"Not nearly as glamorous," he replied after a pause. "Most days I didn't have time to rest. And I've seen things that..." he trailed off, his voice taking on a distant quality. "Things that normal people wouldn't be able to unsee."
The admission surprised me. "Have you spoken with someone professionally? Therapy, I mean?" I asked gently. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, but I could sense he was weighing his response.
"Yes, Princess, I have," he whispered. "But I still have flashbacks sometimes."
I nodded, not wanting to push further. I wanted to ask more, to understand what haunted him, but something in his posture warned me not to push. There would be time later—I hoped. This small confidence felt significant, a crack in his impenetrable façade. We continued watching, and I found myself drawn into the film's intricate plot. When an unexpected explosion filled the screen, I jumped, accidentally upending the popcorn bowl over both of us.
"Oh! I'm sorry," I laughed, embarrassed by my reaction. "That car scene caught me off guard." I shifted to my knees on the sofa and began picking popcorn from his shirt. Up close, His sheer size struck me again —his arm alone was nearly the width of my thigh. As I reached to remove a piece from his hair, mybreast brushed against his upper arm. A jolt of electricity shot through me, and James turned his head, our eyes meeting.
The film continued in the background, but neither of us was watching anymore. His gaze held mine, intense and searching. My breath caught as his eyes dropped briefly to my lips. My mouth went dry, and I unconsciously licked my lower lip.
"You have popcorn in your top, Princess," he said, his voice a low rumble. Another explosion sounded from the TV, but it felt distant, irrelevant. The air between us seemed charged with ambitious energy. I remained on my knees, my face inches from his, acutely aware of where my body touched his.
He reached out slowly, deliberately, and plucked a piece of popcorn from near my collarbone. Then his gaze dropped lower, to where another piece had fallen into my cleavage. I thought he would withdraw, maintain the boundaries he'd established so firmly, but his hand moved again.
"Don't move, Princess," he murmured, the warning in his voice sending heat spiralling through me. His fingers brushed against my skin as he removed the popcorn, the fleeting contact almost unbearable in its restraint. I felt my eyes closing, overwhelmed by sensation. When I opened them again, he was watching me, his entire body taut with marginal contained restraint.
"Why don't you kiss me, James?" I whispered, making it sound like a royal command rather than a plea. "I know you want to."
His expression remained controlled, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—betrayed him. Heat, hunger, and something deeper, more complex, swirled in their depths.
"Do you want me to kiss you, Princess?" he countered, his voice coarse. "And what about your Frederick? Or should I be concerned about Tom Cruise?" I thought I saw a hint of jealousy flicker across his face, though he quickly masked it.
"Frederick is history, and Hollywood stars are mere fantasy," I replied, my heart racing. "The only way to know what's real is to find out."
In one motion, he shifted his weight, pressing me back against the sofa descending over me. My pulse thundered in my ears as he captured my wrists in one hand and pinning them above my head. This was the first time he'd allowed actual emotion to show, and the intensity of it stole my breath.
"I know exactly what you're doing, Princess," he said, his face inches from mine. "And it won't work. My job is to protect you, not compromise you. Yes, there's an attraction between us—I won't insult your intelligence by denying it. But there can be nothing more. You're royalty. I'm your security. And in a couple of weeks, this assignment ends and I'll be reassigned."
My heart pounded against my ribs, and warmth pooled low in my belly as he held me pinned beneath him. I suddenly realised how small I was compared to his powerful frame and our size difference. Unbidden, my mind wandered to how that difference would feel in more intimate circumstances. I pushed the thought away, shocked at myself.
"Is that why you were so upset about Frederick? Because you'll be gone soon?" I challenged, watching emotions war across his usually impassive face.
His jaw tightened. "Frederick is irrelevant. But untested visitors are a security risk, particularly with the threats you've received. My personal feelings don't enter into it."
"Liar," I whispered, watching his pupils dilate. "I saw your face in the library. That wasn't a professional concern."
For a breathless moment, I thought he might kiss me after all. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and his grip on my wrists tightened fractionally.
For a moment, we both simply breathed, the weight of what had almost happened settling between us like a living thing. Icould have challenged him further, pushed to see how far he would go, but something held me back. Even though I wanted to break through his walls, I was unprepared for what might be on the other side. "Maybe it's better this way," I finally said, my voice small but steady.
"Three weeks is a long time, Princess," he whispered, then released my wrists and moved away, putting careful distance between us on the sofa. "Long enough for things to become... complicated."
The absence of his touch left me feeling strangely cold, despite the warmth still pooling in my belly. I sat up, smoothing my shirt with trembling hands. "I've never been afraid of complications, Mr. Banks."
He looked at me then, really looked at me, as though seeing past the title and privilege to the woman beneath. "Perhaps you should be," he said, and turned back to the film, though I could tell he wasn't watching it at all.
We sat in charged silence; the movie playing unwatched, both of us acutely aware that a line had been drawn—and that neither of us was entirely certain it wouldn't be crossed.
Chapter Ten
James
It was late September, and three weeks had passed since we'd arrived in Luxembourg. I was slowly falling into a new routine, though I was looking forward to returning to London in November. Jake, who was supposed to handle this assignment before his climbing accident that left him with a broken leg and hip in three places, was slowly healing. The doctors said he'd need at least another month of recovery before he could return to active duty, which meant I was stuck here until then—assuming nothing went wrong. I was looking forward to it as I followed the princess through the university campus in Luxembourg. Her final year was demanding—veterinary medicine required long hours in labs and clinical rotations—but she never complained, even when I had to accompany her to every lecture and practical session. People, mostly other female students, were noticing me even when I was trying to stay in the shadows.
The weather wasn't as warm anymore, but Evangeline was still wearing the long dresses that amplified her figure. Just over a week ago, that evening on the sofa left me questioning myresolve. Things were still awkward between us. It was better and easier this way. I'd already told her she shouldn't get used to me, as I was ready to leave as soon as I could.
Princess Evangeline was a bad distraction. She made me admit I wanted her, that there was an intense attraction between us, and it bloody killed me that I couldn't touch her. The cold showers weren't helping anymore. Her scent lingered in my mind, how she'd looked at me that night on the sofa. I imagined what it would be like to cross that line, to forget my training and give in to what we both wanted. The memory of her body pressed against mine during the film, the way she'd tested my resolve, haunted me. I could still feel the phantom weight of her in my arms, still hear the hitch in her breathing when I'd pinned her wrists above her head. We'd crossed a line that night, even if we'd pulled back at the last second. She didn't realise that I was ready to shut her up with my mouth, but things had already escalated. I knew if I tasted her, there was no going back from this—ever, so I had to act like I felt nothing, because being empty felt better than being lost in her forever.
