"Are you serious?" She asked, pausing. "Are you really telling me that your brother is Spencer Banks? Oh my God, Banks of course, you have the same surname and you do look a little familiar."
"It's not a big deal, I'm the one that no one ever talks about so we are good," I grumbled and then went to the kitchen and got her a new fork. Spencer had always been the golden boy, the charismatic one. I preferred working from the shadows.
"I met him when he became the prime minister," she said as I handed her a clean fork. Of course she did. She was a royal after all and Spencer travelled extensively. He must have visited Belavista in the past. "It seems your good looks run in the family. Wasn't he pronounced the hottest PM of the century or something like that?"
"So you think I'm good looking, huh?" I asked her, allowing myself a rare moment of playfulness. I wondered briefly if I was jealous of my brother—a ridiculous thought. She was my client, nothing more. Of course she must have found Spencer attractive, because all women thought that he was like Adonis, but that didn't change the fact that his personality left a lot to be desired.
She looked at me, parting her lips as a blush spread over her cheeks. I needed to regain control of this conversation and my own reactions.
"Well yes… I meant you're very handsome, but your brother is simply beautiful," she sighed and then went back to finishing her meal. I gripped my fork tighter. The sudden surge of jealousy surprised me—I'd never felt competitive with Spencer before.
"He's all show," I said quietly. "But he's good at what he does."
We didn't talk much after that and I had a feeling that she was embarrassed, so I offered to clean up and then finished my work for the evening. She retreated to her own bedroom while I tried to sleep, but I ended up tossing and turning for half of the night.
The next day, I was reviewing the background checks I'd run on Evangeline's friends when they arrived for lunch. I positioned myself at the kitchen counter where I could maintain a clear sightline to all entrances while appearing to work on my laptop.
Gabriela Cortez was the daughter of a Belavistan diplomat—low security risk but prone to gossip according to my files. Octavia Reyes came from old money, had a history of reckless behavior, and her family had business dealings with a company suspected of corruption. Both had known Evangeline since childhood.
"Are you telling me that he's your new bodyguard?" Gabriela whispered as they all sat in the living room. I didn't react. I was seated in the far corner of the kitchen, trying to create a schedule and still researching potential suspects. I had run background checks on these girls the night before and cleared them as approved visitors. Evangeline had provided me with a list of her close friends during our conversation about daily routines this morning.
From my position, I could see Evangeline nod, her expression a mix of resignation and amusement. She sat with perfect posture, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail—every inch the princess even in casual clothes.
The girls started giggling. I maintained my focus on the screen, pretending not to hear them. I hated that kind of attention and sometimes I wished that my father wasn't part Italian, because as my mother said, all four of us got good genes.
"He's huge and so good looking. I don't even know how you can actually live with him," Gabriela continued, her voice carrying despite her attempt at whispering.
"It has to be done, my mother wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, he's going to be with me for the next two months, that's all." Evangeline's voice was light but firm—the tone of someone used to managing difficult situations with grace.
I typed several names into the search engine, thinking that Octavia—not Gabriela—was crossing into a dangerous territory. With my trained ear, I could easily distinguish their voices. Octavia had been eyeing me up since they arrived.
"Then you won't mind if I try to flirt with him, maybe he can take me out once he's done with you," Octavia added, obviously speaking quietly but I could hear every word. I didn't glance their way because I knew for sure that this would give me away. I had no interest in Octavia's flirtations. My focus was exclusively on keeping Evangeline safe—a task complicated by my unwanted attraction to her.
I glanced up briefly when Evangeline didn't immediately respond. She was looking directly at me, a calculating expression on her face that I couldn't quite read.
She shouldn't affect me the way she did, and yet there was something about her directness, her surprising strength of character, that I found compelling. I really needed to seek professional help.
"Aren't you seeing someone, Octavia?" She asked, with an edge in her voice. "I mean, sure you can try going out with him, but I doubt he's going to be interested. That man is a total grump that doesn't seem to like anything or anyone."
She spoke loudly enough that I knew she wanted me to hear what she said. I was almost amused because the princess had me figured out. She knew exactly what kind of person I was and she wasn't trying to sugarcoat it.
"Besides," Evangeline continued, her smile brightening the room, "if anyone's going to crack that stone face, it'll be me. I love a challenge."
I kept my expression neutral, but something shifted inside me. The princess was sunshine and determination packaged in royal grace—my complete opposite. And for the first time in years, I felt a crack forming in the walls I'd built around myself.
"Just watch," she told her friends with a confident toss of her head. "By the end of the month, I'll have him smiling."
I doubted that. But as she caught my eye across the room and gave me a challenging smirk, I realised that these few months ahead might be more dangerous than any battlefield I'd ever faced.
Chapter Six
Evangeline
"Mr. Banks, we are going out to see another friend. Are you able to drive us?" I asked James, who still sat in the kitchen, intently typing on his laptop. I didn't have many friends in Luxembourg, but Octavia and Gabriela were perfect counterpoints to my royal life—both fun and carefree, with no knowledge of protocol or palace politics.
The three of us approached James, and my pulse quickened. I was certain he noticed the tension between us, especially when we were near each other, but I knew he would never admit it. I needed to ignore it, too. This was merely a professional relationship that would end in a matter of weeks. Perhaps a distraction would help clear my head.
"What's this friend's name? And can you provide the location?" He asked, not even lifting his head from the laptop. My friends exchanged glances, clearly appreciating his chiselled features and commanding presence. I felt an unexpected twinge of... something. Annoyance? Possessiveness? Impossible.
