He glanced at me briefly. "Yes, I don't like him because he's your ex. Yes, I don't like how he looks at you, touches you. And yes, I don't trust his motives. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Your Highness?"
The formality stung. "Don't do that. Don't retreat into 'Your Highness' when you're uncomfortable."
"What would you prefer I call you?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.
I swallowed hard, remembering how my name had sounded in the darkness of my bedroom, whispering against my skin. "You know what I prefer, James."
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "We agreed to maintain professional boundaries."
"Is that what you want?" I asked, my heart pounding. "Truly?"
He didn't answer, his silence was more revealing than words. When we reached the penthouse, he disappeared into his bedroom without another word.
The tension continued to build over the next few days. Frederick called twice more, suggesting we meet again—alone. I declined firmly, aware of James's watchful presence during each call.
By the end of the week, the atmosphere was strained to breaking point. We moved around each other carefully, like dancers following a complicated routine, always aware of the other's position but never connecting. Easy conversation had evaporated, replaced by terse exchanges about schedules and security.
Then came the morning that changed everything.
I woke up early, preparing for a day of lab work. The shower was gloriously hot, steam filling the bathroom as I washed away another restless night. Dreams of James had plagued me again—his hands, his mouth, his voice murmuring things that made me blush even in sleep.
Wrapped in a towel, hair dripping down my back, I opened the bathroom door and stepped directly into a solid wall of muscle. James, heading to the bathroom himself, wore nothing but a towel slung low around his hips.
Time stopped as we stood frozen, bodies almost touching. Water droplets ran down my shoulders, and I watched his eyes track their path with undisguised hunger. His chest—broad and muscular, scattered with dark hair—rose and fell with quickened breaths. The scent of him—sandalwood and something uniquely him—enveloped me, making me dizzy.
"James," I whispered, his name falling from my lips like a prayer.
His eyes, dark with wanting, met mine. The careful distance we'd maintained evaporated in an instant, leaving only raw, undeniable need.
And in that moment, I knew we were both done pretending.
Chapter Twenty-Four
James
Istood frozen in the hallway, my heart pounding against my ribs like artillery fire. Evangeline was inches away, her skin flushed from the shower, water droplets trailing down her neck to disappear beneath the white towel she clutched to her chest. I could smell her vanilla shampoo, could see the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
"This isn't..." I began, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
"Professional?" she finished, her blue eyes holding mine without apology. "No, it isn't."
My jaw clenched as I fought for control. Control I'd maintained through gunfire in Iraq, through royal security threats, through every fucking dangerous situation I'd encountered in my career. Control that was now unraveling because of one woman in a towel.
"We agreed—" I tried again.
"I know what we agreed," she whispered, taking a deliberate step closer until the space between us seemed to crackle with electricity. "I also know what I want."
Something snapped inside me then—some final thread of restraint I'd been clinging to since Luxembourg. I raised my hand to her face, cupping her cheek with a gentleness that belied the storm raging inside me.
"Tell me," I demanded, needing to hear the words. "Say it."
"You," she breathed, the single syllable making my chest tight. "I want you, James. I've wanted you since the moment you walked into my barn and judged me without knowing me."
I couldn't stop the ghost of a smile that touched my lips. "That long?"
"Yes," she admitted. "Even when I hated you, I wanted you."
My thumb traced her lower lip, and she trembled at the contact, her breath catching. "This changes everything," I warned her, my voice rough with barely restrained desire.
