"No, because someone would have seen something and instantly reported it to my fiancé," she sighed. I was just about to ask her something when, a moment later, someoneelse walked inside and we both stilled. She had dragged me to the farthest loo in this building, probably thinking that no one would use it.
"I don't know why Queen Romanov doesn't interfere in this matter. The princess is twenty-three, and she should have been married when she turned twenty." Arya turned her head to look at me, and I smiled, shaking my head. This wasn't a big deal. People often talked about me behind my back. I knew it kept happening even after what had happened three years ago. No one knew the full truth, and yet they all kept gossiping.
"There have been rumours in the past that she was engaged several years ago," another woman stated, and I didn't recognise her voice. I did not know who either of them was, and I didn't care. Arya widened her eyes and then indicated to me to leave the bathroom, but I decided against it.
"Bellavista's PR team must have spread the rumour to distract everyone from the scandal. Remember her blowing that guy who was a personal butler to her mother. Everyone was talking about it," the woman with the high-pitched voice stated. Damn it, I couldn't believe that people were still bringing this shit from the past back. I screwed up big time, and I was still paying the price of what had happened three years later. Why couldn't they just leave it alone?
James knew about the scandal, of course—it would have been in his security briefings—but not the intimate details that still haunted me. The reports' focus was on security breaches; officials had sanitized them to omit personal humiliation. Only a few people knew the full truth of what had actually happened that day, and I intended to keep it that way.
"Oh yes, the palace paid off that journalist to keep the pictures out of the papers, but someone still leaked them online. I'm surprised she's even here and that she keeps attending these official events. I would have moved away and never come back."
"I remember now. She disappeared for at least a year; no one heard from her, and then she suddenly appeared at that charity gala. Can you believe that? No one batted an eyelid? It's like that whole scandal has been long forgotten," the first woman continued. She sounded so outraged, and I wanted to laugh, but deep down, I was angry that I had to listen to this rubbish.
The scandal had happened during my gap year before university—a year I'd spent largely in seclusion while the palace managed the fallout. That was the reason I'd fought so hard to attend university in Luxembourg rather than staying home, desperate to rebuild some kind of normal life away from the constant whispers and judgment.
"That's why the Queen should marry her off as soon as possible. I don't know what she is even waiting for. " The first woman continued, but a moment later, I heard them finally leaving. I didn't want to look at Arya, but I knew she was one of my loyal friends who had my back.
"I'm sorry, Arya, I don't know who–"
"It was Lady Georgina Maxwell, the Foreign Secretary's wife, but I'm not sure who was with her, though," Arya cut me off as we slowly moved back from the cubicle. I fixed her gown so the zip wouldn't dig into her skin again.
"It doesn't matter; I'm just surprised that they are all still talking about me. After so many years, I thought they would have moved on to other scandals," I stated, thinking that my mother's team had done a superb job distracting people from what happened that day. Queen Sophia had returned late last night from her diplomatic mission, and I knew she'd be calling soon to discuss tonight's appearance. The political pressure never stopped. I thought I was past that.
"You are here, looking stunning with your new handsome bodyguard, so of course they would talk about you. They are filled with envy, because their own lives are so boring," Aryahissed and then glanced at her own reflection in the mirror. "I think you're the bravest royal that I know. You went through so much, and you're still holding your head high. You're my inspiration."
I stared at her, trying to comprehend how I was an inspiration to her, because deep down, I felt like a fraud. My heart raced as I thought about the past and the reason things happened. I had not been careful, and the man who wanted to see me brought down was still out there. I felt guilty that I hadn't said anything to James. He needed to know, as he was actively trying to keep me safe.
"Don't be silly. I'm not that brave, and my mother would strongly disagree with you," I told her.
"I would crumble if I had a mother like yours, but you stood your ground; that's impressive," she pointed out. She was right. The Queen was like steel, and she brought me up the same way, to be fierce. When the scandal broke, she stood by me like a mother should, and that made me teary a little.
I didn't respond because I wasn't sure what to say, and a moment later we left the bathroom and headed outside.
"Princess," James said, nodding at me as soon as I opened the door. Even as he maintained his professional demeanour, I could see the tension in his shoulders. The threatening calls had escalated since the party incident, and I knew he suspected someone was tracking my movements. Every instinct probably told him to increase security, but I was already chafing against the restrictions. Tonight's gala would be a nightmare to secure, but cancelling would create diplomatic issues that could compromise my long-term safety. Arya gave me the look that asked how the hell did he get here so fast? I gave her a smile, and then, several moments later, we were back in the hall. Lady Georgina was someone I searched for, yet I couldn't see her. I needed to forget her. She didn't know the truth; she could judgeme all she wanted, but no one apart from me and a few other close friends knew what had happened all those years ago.
Arya went to dance with her new fiancé, who came in late, and I felt a little bored.
"May I ask you to dance with me, Evangeline?" Someone asked. I turned around, standing face to face with Frederick Van Den Sen, and he looked good. Tall, blond with the most incredible blue eyes that looked through me, my ex-boyfriend.
The sight of him brought back bittersweet memories. Frederick had been everything a princess should want—charming, well-connected, and understanding of royal protocols. But his demanding career had always come first, leaving little room for an actual relationship. We'd simply grown apart, wanting different things from life. Seeing him now reminded me of what I'd thought I'd wanted back then and how much I'd changed since.
I felt James's presence immediately shift behind me, his professional alertness sharpening. Any unexpected approach to me would trigger his protective instincts, even from someone as harmless as Frederick. This was exactly what James had feared about tonight. Too many variables, too many people, too many opportunities for something to go wrong. Despite all his preparation and security protocols, threats had a way of materialising from unexpected directions.
I could sense James was tense behind me, and knew without looking that this unexpected reunion had just complicated our evening considerably.
Chapter Twelve
James
The moment that prick approached Evangeline, I knew he was going to be a pain in my backside. I'd overheard those women gossiping about her in the bathroom—they weren't exactly keeping their voices down. This guy shows up, making the night even worse for her.
She smiled at him, and I clenched my fists as I stood at the back of the room alongside several other security personnel. That guy was handsome, and he was the man that she had dated when she was only eighteen. I had studied her file and knew enough. They separated because of their conflicting work schedules, but now he was living in Luxembourg, so it was just a matter of time before they would see each other again.
I began to move, ensuring I remained unseen to get closer to them. He must have asked her to dance with him. I didn't fucking know what was wrong with me. I hated his hands on her and the fact that she was smiling like she'd won the fucking lottery. They were dancing, and everyone was suddenly paying attention to them, all eyes in the ballroom following their movements. I hated myself for admitting that they looked goodtogether, but my hand kept moving to the knife in my pocket. Despite everything that happened between us, I couldn't deny she was stunning—smart, fierce, and beautiful. I'd never felt this way about a client before. I fucking wanted her to be mine, even though the voice in my head kept reminding me it would never happen.
Earlier that evening, when she stepped out of her bedroom, every coherent thought in my head had evaporated. The gold dress clung to her curves like liquid metal, accentuating every line of her body that I'd been trying not to think about for weeks. The slit revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her thigh, and my mouth went dry as I imagined running my hands along that smooth skin.
Christ, she was stunning. Not just beautiful—devastating. The kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees without even trying. And she was mine to protect, which meant she was completely off-limits.
