“Where are you running off to?” he asked.

“Nowhere,” she said, turning to face him. Her expression—her eyes wide, her lips parted slightly, full and inviting—drew him in closer. “I just needed some air.”

“Dancing with Bastian had such a strong effect on you?” he asked, advancing further.

She turned her head, casting her face into shadow. Her expression was obscured. “No. It had no effect on me. As usual. But it was more disturbing this time since the date of my official engagement is set now. And he’s very likely the one I’ll be engaged to. If his bid is high enough. I’ve been too cowardly to ask what the price is on my head—or hand, as the case may be.”

“You want to feel attraction for him?”

“I want something. Anything.”

Makhail stopped right in front of her, noticed a shimmer in her dark eyes, pale moonlight reflected there, betraying the depth of her emotion. He put his hand on her face. Just to offer comfort, just for a moment. There was no harm in that.

The feel of her smooth skin beneath his palm sent a shock of desire through him. Strong. Foreign. Intense. It was almost enough simply to feel that need. To revel in it. The desire of a man for a woman. Almost.

About the Author

MAISEY YATES was an avid Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance reader before she began to write them. She still can’t quite believe she’s lucky enough to get to create her very own sexy alpha heroes and feisty heroines. Seeing her name on one of those lovely covers is a dream come true.

Maisey lives with her handsome, wonderful, diaper-changing husband and three small children across the street from her extremely supportive parents and the home she grew up in, in the wilds of Southern Oregon, USA. She enjoys the contrast of living in a place where you might wake up to find a bear on your back porch and then heading into the home office to write stories that take place in exotic urban locales.

Recent titles by the same author:

ONE NIGHT IN PARADISE

GIRL ON A DIAMOND PEDESTAL

HAJAR’S HIDDEN LEGACY

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Royal World Apart

Maisey Yates

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Megan Crane and Paula Graves. It was our

Twitter conversation that inspired me to write Mak.

And to my fabulous editor Megan Haslam,

who always helps bring out the best in me.

CHAPTER ONE

THE scandalous princess had done it again. Evangelina Drakos had slipped away from yet another one of his top security guards. It was inexcusable. It was something that should never happen. And yet, it had. Three times in as many weeks.

Makhail Nabatov did not tolerate mistakes. Mistakes, no matter how small—from losing the princess one was meant to be guarding, down to the simple act of spilling hot coffee on yourself while driving—could be disastrous.

He slammed his car door and rolled his shoulders forward, trying to ease the tension that had every muscle in his body bound into knots as solid as stone. He didn’t believe in letting anything affect him like this. Yet another way Princess Evangelina seemed to be messing with the carefully well-ordered life he maintained.

When he’d met her for the first time, all glossy brown curls, dark, glittering eyes and golden skin, she had seemed every inch the demure princess. Nothing like the bold, vivacious party girl who was making tabloid headlines with increasing frequency. He had wondered if the media had exaggerated her image.

Over the past six months he’d discovered that the tabloids were right, and he was wrong. He was never wrong. And yet the Drakos princess had proven him so.

He didn’t like it.

It defied logic that one petite royal could cause so much trouble. And yet, this one seemed to have a knack for it.

He punched the speed dial on his phone for the man he’d had watching out for the princess. “Ivan, where did you last see her?”

“The casino. She disappeared into the crowd,” Ivan said, his voice filled with fear. More weak emotion. He despised it.

“You’re fired.” Makhail clicked the end-call button and stuffed the phone back into his pocket, straightening his tie before striding down the electric strip of the only major city on the island of Kyonos. He was willing to bet Evangelina was still in the casino. Gambling away her father’s money, no doubt.

He moved seamlessly through the crowd, weaving past revelers on his way through the gilded doors. Princess Evangelina wouldn’t be in the main entry trying her hand at the slots. He’d bet she was in one of the high-roller rooms. It was the only place in a casino for a spoiled brat with a penchant for drama and pink champagne.

He passed quickly through the lobby and headed toward a pair of black doors in the back, flanked on either side by guards in suits.

“Name?” One of the men asked.

“Mak,” he said. “I’m here to see the princess.”

“I’m afraid you can’t just …”

One of the doors opened and a socialite in a skin-tight dress breezed out, the scent of alcohol clinging to her body. He took advantage of the moment and gripped the edge of the door, pulling it open the rest of the way and walking in.

He spotted her right away, bent over the table, laughing as she watched the man to her right roll a pair of dice, cheering when the numbers came up favorably. Then she looked up, at him.

Her dark eyes rounded, her pink lips parting slightly. She touched her companion’s arm and said something quickly before edging away from him. She wasn’t trying to run, not from him. She knew better than that.

One of the guards rushed into the room and everyone looked up from the game. “Princess,” he said, “is everything …?”

She regarded Mak cooly, her manner distant, disdainful. “I would prefer it if this man wasn’t here, but trust me when I say there’s no way you can remove him,” she said crisply. “He’s in the employ of my father. You can see that that could become problematic.” Her tone was commanding, haughty. Her dark eyes glittered with anger, proving her collected tone of a voice to be a lie. “So, I’m to be taken back to my cell then?”

“Your cell?” he asked. “Is that what you call that frilly pink bedroom of yours?”

A hint of raspberry color touched her golden cheeks. “Not officially.”

“How did you lose your tail?”

Her lips curved upward into a smug smile. “Did you see the women at the slot machines in front? The ones who make change for patrons?”

He shook his head once. “No.”

“Ah. Well, your guard did. Or more specifically, he noticed the fact that the necklines of their dresses were cut down to their navels. I took the opportunity to slip in back. He must have assumed I’d gone out front, as he’d suggested.”

Mak clenched his teeth. “He was deluded. Naive enough to believe you would do as commanded.”

Evangelina raised her eyebrows, her expression overly innocent. “Indeed.”

“I am not.”

One side of her mouth quirked upward. “I noticed.”

He regarded her for a moment. She had a feline quality to her. Lithe, graceful and more than ready to bare her claws if the need presented itself. He could see how she’d managed to intimidate the palace guards, how she’d managed to dupe his men.

She would not do the same to him.

“I would recommend, printzyessa, that you come with me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Your father will hear of this,” he said.

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Now, her breasts he noticed. She wasn’t showing off every bit of skin she could get away with and still be considered dressed. And it made her figure all the more enticing for it. It made him wonder. Made him wonder if she was golden all over. Made him wonder what her breasts would look like, uncovered for him.

He clenched his hands into fists, battling the images that flashed through his mind. He didn’t let women distract him. Ever.

This was an aberration. As unusual as it was unwanted. It would not happen again.

“I’m not all that concerned over my father hearing about this. What will he do? Lock me in the dungeon? Or perhaps he’ll marry me off to a stranger at his convenience? We both know he won’t do the former, and he’s actively attempting to accomplish the latter.”

“I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. If your designer heels don’t make it …” he shrugged, “it’s not my problem.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

He took a step toward her. She didn’t shrink, didn’t step away. “You don’t think?”

She regarded him for a moment. “I’ll allow you to escort me out.”

He reached out and took hold of her arm, running his fingers over her smooth skin, her flesh hot beneath his palm. He pulled her to him, linking their arms. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “I will allow you to leave on your own two feet.”

She turned to face him, deep brown eyes blazing with defiance. “Good for both of us, as I imagine the alternative would not have ended well. For you or for me.”

“Then it’s good you chose the right option.” He held tightly to her arm, leading her from the room. She kept her chin tipped up, her neck craned, likely so she could look down her nose. It gave her a haughty, untouchable air. It made all of the men in the room practically fall at her feet.

They breezed through the foyer and back out into the damp night air. Salt spray lingered, thick and pungent and the sound of the sea could be heard roaring in the distance. He opened the passenger door to his car.

“In,” he commanded.

She complied, stiffly, her posture rigid as she settled into the vehicle, her eyes fixed straight in front of her. He rounded the car and got into the driver’s side, revving the engine and pulling away from the curb, heading in the direction of the palace.

“So,” she said, her voice conversational, “you won’t tell my father?”

“No.” It wouldn’t benefit anyone to bring the king into this.

“I might tell him,” she said, her tone still light, casual. Obnoxious.

“Why is that?”

“As I said, he won’t do anything about it. He has no leverage. At least, as far as what he can do to me. Now you … he may fire you.”

Makhail tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “He won’t.”

“Really?”

“No. He won’t. I fired Ivan, and now I personally will be guarding you. Your father knows that there isn’t anyone better suited to the job.”

“Does he?” she said, her tone flat.

“Your palace guards can’t keep tabs on you, and they cannot be distracted from issues of national security to deal with a brat who has no interest in her own safety. That leaves me. I am in the unique business of guarding royalty when the built-in protection of a nation proves to be ineffective. And I never make mistakes. It’s regrettable that one of my employees did.”

“Two,” she said.

“What?”

“Two of your employees did.” She reinforced the figure by holding up a matching number of fingers. “I’ve given two of them the slip while they were busy rubbernecking some woman’s figure.”

“Former,” he said.

“What?”

“Former employees. They lacked discipline, and that means I have no room for them among my staff. You may not realize this, as your spoiled tendencies keep you from looking too far outside of yourself, but this is about more than image.”

“Is it? I thought it was mainly about making sure I didn’t look unsuitable to possible fiancés.”

“This is about your safety. You are an important piece of political power, printzyessa.”

“Am I?” She injected false, breathless surprise into her voice. “And here I thought I was just Evangelina.”

“When a title is involved, no one is ‘just’ anything.”

She turned to face him, the indicator the sound of her clothes sliding over the leather. He didn’t turn to look at her. Didn’t take his eyes of the road. “Except I am. I am just a political pawn.”

“An important one,” he said.

She snorted and he heard her flop back against her seat. “What more could a girl ask for?”

Eva felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. Her arm still burned from where Makhail had touched her, and she was so angry she thought she might actually fold in on herself. Yes, she was being outrageous and she knew it. But it was her power. Her only power.

Impotent, it turned out.

Six months ago, when her father had introduced her to Makhail she’d breathed a sigh of relief that he was no longer a field agent. That he wouldn’t be guarding her personally. Because he … well, he was just too disturbing. Far too big. Too masculine. Broad shoulders and cropped brown hair, a square jaw, a mouth that looked as if it had never smiled. And his eyes … gray like the barrel of a gun. And they were every bit as cold.

And now here he was. It was one thing to mess around his goons. Easy too. They were far too interested in what was going on around them. But Makhail focused in on her in a way that no one else ever did. It was as if he was looking into her. She didn’t like it at all.

“Perhaps a girl could ask for more diamonds in her gilded cage?”

“You think because I’m rich I have no right to complain?” she asked.

“Not at all. I’m not here to have an opinion. An opinion would imply that I care. I don’t. I am here to do a job. Keep you safe, keep you scandal-free. I will do it.”

“Until my marriage?”

“After, if I must.”

A strange thought. That she would be guarded even after her marriage was secured, and yet she knew it was true. She was a royal, destined to marry a royal. From the moment she’d been born, her life had been controlled down to what shoes she was to put on in the morning.

And of course, the man she would marry was also to be carefully selected. Just like her breakfast cereal.

It had been over six months since she’d woken up to a terrible, clawing fear that she would never be able to make a decision for herself. Not one. Not about what she wore, not about where she went, or what she ate. That was when the serious rebellion started. So Makhail Nabatov could talk about duty and spoiled brattiness all he wanted, but he didn’t know what it was like to be her.

He was the enemy.

“I dare say my husband will have his own guards intent on ensuring my submission.”

“And what makes you think they’ll be any better than your father’s guards?”

He didn’t look at her, never took his eyes from the road, his profile strong, uncompromising. A crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken at least once, a square jaw that verged on being too sharp. A mouth that looked incapable of smiling.

“They may not be. But maybe I won’t try to escape. That all depends on who my father selects, I suppose. Or if I fall in love with him.”

She doubted she would. She had a vague idea of who her father might find suitable, because there weren’t very many royals just lying around for her to marry. A few minor members of nobility, and of course there was Bastian, King of Komenia, a small principality in eastern Europe, actively looking for his queen. She felt nothing for him, no matter how hard she tried. And she did try.

Because he was the likeliest candidate. The one who would bring the most strength, the most power, financial and military resources to Kyonos.

How she felt—love, attraction—didn’t come into it as far as her father was concerned. And Bastian was nice. He was even rather handsome. But there was no spark. He touched her and she felt nothing. He wasn’t the one.

But it was looking as though she would never have the chance to find that man.

“You want love, do you?” he asked, maneuvering the car through the narrow streets, café tables pressed in so close to the roadway that if she rolled the window down she could reach out and steal a cappuccino. Unless of course the windows were locked. Likely, under the circumstances.

“Of course I do. Don’t we all?”

“No,” he said. No explanation, just no. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Except she was. And then it made her angry. Because he could have love if he wanted it. He could marry whomever he wanted to, and he didn’t have anyone trying to make the decision for him.

But he just … said no, he didn’t want love. Probably because he was more interested in cleavage, anonymous cleavage, than he was in a real woman. That was what she’d noticed with the other men who guarded her. That was how she’d shaken them.

Makhail was no different, though he was more focused when he needed to be, clearly, since he hadn’t even noticed the busty cocktail waitresses at the entrance of the casino.

But still, he had all the freedom in the world and he wanted to waste it on shallow, frivolous things. Not that her night in the casino had been anything more than shallow and frivolous. But it had been fun, and she’d had a shortage of fun in her life.

“Well. I do,” she said, looking out the window again, her stomach tightening as they neared the palace.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” She turned to his profile again. “Everyone—well, not you, we established not you—most everyone wants love. Love is …”

“A lot of work.”

She looked down at his hands, his grip tight on the steering wheel. There was a platinum band there, thick and prominent, on his left ring finger. “Are you married?”

“Not anymore,” he said. There was no emotion in his voice. No hint of how he felt about the subject. Yet he still wore his ring.

“Why?”

He flicked her a glance for the first time. “I did not realize we had to become friends in order for me to protect you.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she said, annoyance coursing through her. “You aren’t protecting me. Not really. You’re keeping me out of trouble. Or perceived trouble. I’m an adult woman. I’m twenty, you know. Almost twenty-one.”

“Ancient,” he said, his tone dry.

“Anyway, no, we don’t have to be friends. I suppose us being friends would be impossible, actually, seeing as we’re working with opposing agendas.”

“And what is your agenda, Princess?”

They pulled up to a wrought-iron gate, guards stationed out along the perimeter of the pale stucco wall that stretched around the palace, backed by the Aegean Sea.

“If I told you, Mr. Nabatov, it would be much too easy for you to gain the upper hand.”

CHAPTER TWO

“IT was online, on every trashy news website you could think of, before you ever left the casino, Eva.” Her father paced in front of her, his hands locked behind his back, his expression fierce. “Rolling dice, men on your arm. You looked like a common college student.”

An insult from her father’s lips. There was no mistaking that. Anything common, as far as Stephanos Drakos was concerned, was beneath the hallowed royal family of Kyonos.

“Father …”

“Your Highness,” Makhail stepped in, his voice smooth, confident. “Eva was meant to be under the supervision of one of my men, who has been dismissed now for his carelessness. I have decided I will take on the task of guarding the princess myself.”

Bloody gallant of him. So gallant she’d like to smack that smug expression right off his face. Instead, she cleared her throat and addressed her father. “I don’t suppose you’ve considered that I don’t need twenty-four-hour … nannying?”

“Not for a moment,” King Stephanos replied.

Makhail turned to her, his gray eyes glinting. “I am not a nanny, Princess.”

“You do carry a bigger gun than most nannies,” she said.

He arched one brow. “Among other things.”

“Charming,” she said tightly.

“How do I know I can trust you, Mr. Nabatov, when you seem incapable of keeping an agent in my daughter’s presence?”

Makhail turned his focus to the king, his expression hard. Fierce. Almost frightening. “They were fools. I am not. And your options are limited, Your Highness. Typically, when we protect someone, they have the good sense to want that protection. Princess Evangelina does not.”

“That’s because I’m being protected from myself,” she said. “It’s insulting.”

“You behave like a child, and you shall be treated like one,” Stephanos said. “I am in the process of arranging a union for you that will benefit Kyonos, benefit your people. You disdain it.”

“I … I just want to have a bit of my own life … a bit of …”

“You are royal, Eva. It is not that simple,” the king said.

Eva bit back her response. Because, as much as she hated it, he was right. Every privilege, every ball, had a price. Every ounce of gold dust came with a twenty-pound iron weight attached to it. It didn’t matter whether she accepted it, it simply was.

Still, the outright refusal burned in her throat. Desperate to escape. Words she knew she could never speak.

“Am I dismissed?” she asked.

“You may go,” her father said, nodding his head.

She turned on her heel and walked out into the hall, covering her face with hands, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to keep tears from falling. She wasn’t weak. She didn’t have time for weakness. Even more importantly, she couldn’t afford to show it.

Not to her father, certainly not to the press. Least of all to Makhail, her brand-new jailer. The only person who understood her, even a little bit, was Stavros, her brother. And at the moment, he had his own problems.

She stalked down the long, empty corridor of the palace, making each step count, her high heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. If she had any idea what she wanted, things would be so much easier.

Making scandal, derailing her father’s plans to find her a suitable husband, that had kept her busy for the past few months, but she had no end plan with it.

What else could she do?

She knew what she wanted. She also knew she would probably never have it. A man who loved her, just her. A man she loved just as madly in return. A marriage that had nothing to do with politics or trade.

It was nothing more than a fantasy. Some little girls dreamed of being princesses. She’d just dreamed of being. Of living on her own terms, making her own goals, goals she could aspire to. It wasn’t possible, but she’d clung to the hope. For too long.

And any freedom she had had a timer ticking on it. The marriage was being arranged. And when she was married … it would all be gone, any hope squashed beneath the weight of it. She would go from being beneath her father’s control to being beneath her husband’s.

It was bleak.

“Princess.”

The deep, rich voice, flavored by a Russian accent, could only belong to one man. She turned and saw Makhail standing there, looking every inch the secret agent in his black suit.

“Yes?”

“I have finalized arrangements with your father.”

“Have you?” she asked, stiffly. “He says you have six months.”

She tried to ignore the sick, sinking feeling in her stomach. “So I’ve been sentenced, then?”

“Is that how you feel about it?”

She laughed, and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t feel amused. Far from it. “How would you feel? Being offered as commodity to a total stranger? To bear his children and … sleep with him.”

“I imagine I would not enjoy it,” he said, his tone wry. “But then, I have never been interested in sleeping with men.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Listen, Princess …”

“Eva. Just Eva, please. If we have to deal with each other for the next few months it will be easier.”

“Then you can call me Mak.” It wasn’t a friendly offer. More like a prisoner exchange.

“I don’t want to,” she returned, keeping her tone intentionally tart.

He chuckled. “Why is that?”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “It humanizes you. I would prefer to stay angry with you for as long as possible.”

His lips curved into a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took a step, then another, slowly circling around her, like a predator who had found some very tempting prey. “I am certain I will find many ways to make you angry, Eva. You won’t need to manufacture reasons.”

“On that we can both agree.” She turned to face him as he moved to her side. “Stop circling me, I’m not a gazelle.”

He paused. “Excuse me?”

“You look like … like you’re stalking me or something. But I am no one’s prey.”

“I believe it.”

“Tell me then, Mak,” she said his name with as much disdain as she could muster. “What is on the agenda? Has my father lined out every single activity I’m approved for over the six months? Galas and tea parties?”

“Something like that.”

“Lovely,” she said dryly.

“Not for either of us and I see no reason to pretend otherwise. I am not a babysitter, so unless you want me to be incredibly irritable during our time together, I suggest you stop acting like a child.”

She stiffened, anger coursing through her veins, her temper, quick at the best of times, ready to snap. “I am not acting like a child. I’m being treated like one.”

“What do you think, Eva, that you’ll find the answers to life in a casino? In a bar? That somehow that sort of freedom means more than doing your duty to your country? If so, you really are a child.”

He turned his back to her and for some, strange reason, she felt compelled to ask him to stay. To make him stay. “Wait.”

He turned back to her. “Yes?”

“Where are you staying? Do you … do you have a home on Kyonos?”

“I shall be staying here.” He smiled slowly. “All the better to protect you.”

“Are you supposed to remind me of the big bad wolf?”

He arched one dark eyebrow. “Do I?”

Come to think of it, he did. “What big teeth you have,” she said, forcing her voice to stay in a monotone.

His dark eyebrow arched. “I won’t say the rest. It would hardly be appropriate.”

A little thrill zinged through her. It certainly would not. And what was happening? Had he … flirted with her? Had she just flirted with her bodyguard?

He was gorgeous. In a very understated sort of way. He certainly wasn’t pretty, he was far too rugged for that. But he was … masculine. And somehow, just being near him, made her feel very, very aware of her own femininity. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw and she imagined it would feel rough beneath her palm.

She found herself brushing her fingertips lightly over her own cheek in response to the thought, feeling the smooth skin there. Craving its opposite.

She dropped her hand to her side, flexing her fingers, trying to get rid of the phantom impression of his scruff, and took a deep breath, attempting to clear her head.

“Hardly,” she said, trying to swallow. Her throat felt tight. Too tight.

“This doesn’t have to be hard, Eva,” he said, his accent shaping her name differently than she’d ever heard it before. It was … intriguing.

“It can’t be anything but. You and I have opposing goals, Mak.”

“What is your goal, Princess?” he asked, his eyes hard on her. Far too perceptive. He made her want to wrap her arms around herself, to try and cover as much as she could. Because she felt as though he could see beneath her filmy dress. More disturbing, she felt that he could see inside of her. See her fears, her desires. Things she’d never shared with anyone. “And be honest. None of this talk about you not telling me. Do you intend to take yourself out of the running for a dynastic marriage by ruining your image?”

“It had crossed my mind. Or perhaps, I simply wanted to start as I intend to go on.”

“Meaning?”

“The lucky royal who takes me as a wife should have an idea of what he’s getting into. He should know I’m not simply some docile piece of arm candy.”

He treated her to that look again. Cool. Assessing. Penetrating. He spoke slowly, as though each word was chosen carefully. For the purpose of irritating her, she imagined. “I doubt anyone could possibly believe you’re docile.”

“Then my job is at least half done,” she said, trying to play it a whole lot cooler than she felt. “I’m tired now. I think I’ll go to my quarters.” She turned away from him and started walking back down the hall.

She could hear heavy footfalls behind her. She turned and saw Mak following behind her. “I said I’m going to my quarters. You aren’t invited,” she said, even as her stomach tightened, thinking of inviting him in.

“I’m simply ensuring you arrive as you should,” he said, completely unperturbed by her prickly responses. She was usually very good at putting her guards off. The palace guards had given up on her, Makhail’s guards hadn’t been able to keep up with her.

And Makhail was … calm. Maddeningly so. As though he felt nothing. Nothing more than a mild amusement over the disaster area that was her life. As though the idea of her being sold into marriage was nothing.

“Think I’m going to knot the bedsheets together and rappel out the window?”

“You’ve done it before.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Once. And I was fourteen. Did you read my file? Oh, theos, have I got a file?” She’d never, ever felt more like one of her father’s assets in her life. Not a person, a thing. A thing that was catalogued, like the antiquities, like the artifacts from the temples of Kyonos. She was another item from the royal collection.

“Of course you have a file. And considering you burn through guards at such an accelerated rate, it’s a good thing too. It made it much easier for me to know you.”

She gritted her teeth, tightening her hands into fists. “You can study that file all you like, read it cover to cover. You still won’t know me.” She turned her back on him and took short, quick steps down the hall, ignoring the sound of him still behind her.

When she reached the door to her quarters, her hands shook as she entered the code that would unlock the door.

“I make it my business to know people,” Mak said. “I profile them. It makes it easier in this business if I understand human nature. You think you’re so special that I can’t figure you out?”

She turned to him, her heart raging in her chest. “I’m not a list of characteristics. I am a person. I …”

“You are spoiled. Selfish. Characteristics brought on by a life with every amenity you could possibly imagine—and some most people can not—at your fingertips. You feel persecuted while surrounded by luxury, because you know nothing else. Because you don’t know what it is to go without food or shelter. Oh, I think I know you, Eva. Better than you know yourself, quite possibly.”

His assessment made her feel ill. Made her tremble from the inside out. Was it so wrong to want more out of her life than being an object? She wasn’t an artifact, which made being wrapped in silk and put on display boring and unsatisfying.

She sucked in a breath and met Mak’s eyes, ignored the shiver that worked its way through her as she did. “You can continue to think all of that if you wish. Frankly, you underestimating me works to my benefit.”

He chuckled, low and slow. “Perhaps you are simply overestimating yourself.” He moved closer to her and her heart kicked into high gear. He leaned in, his palm pressed flat against the door to her rooms, his face so near hers she could hardly breathe. For one moment, it all stopped. There was only Mak, his face filling her vision, his scent teasing her. “Sleep well, printzyessa.”

He pushed back from the door and turned away from her, walking down the hall, his abandonment leaving her cold. His recent nearness leaving her shaking.

“Bastard,” she said, loud enough for him to hear.

He didn’t turn. He just laughed.

She pushed the door open and closed it firmly behind her. This was a disaster. A nightmare. She’d been downgraded to a maximum-security playpen.

She hated that man. That ridiculous, gorgeous, awful man.

Eva toyed with the idea of climbing out the window. For all of two seconds. She didn’t have anywhere she wanted to be, and frankly, it would be rebellion for rebellion’s sake and that was just stupid.

The casino stuff, that night she’d gotten into one of Kyonos’s most exclusive and racy nightclubs, that had been for the benefit of the press. And even though she’d lost her bodyguard detail, she’d been sure she was safe.

Sneaking out in the dead of night didn’t have the same benefit.

She sank into the sofa that stretched across the entryway to her quarters, which was structured very much like a luxury apartment without a kitchen. It was a way for her to have privacy without actually having it. An illusion of independence.

She closed her eyes, her head resting on a plush white cushion. She could feel the noose tightening around her neck. Duty. Honor. She should care about both of those things more than she did.

She just wanted her own life.

And in her position, wanting that made her selfish, terrible when it would be seen as normal, responsible, for someone else to want to take control of their existence. It was also completely impossible.

CHAPTER THREE

EVA in her fitted black slacks, white blouse and long string of pearls that hung low, knotted beneath her breasts, was a very different Eva from the one he’d encountered the night before. With her glossy brown hair tamed into a sleek bun, her makeup light and subtle, she looked every inch the proper princess.

But he knew better. He could not get the image of her as she had been last night out of his mind. Angry, and more than a little bit hot. She had plagued his dreams. Another strange occurrence. Even in sleep he had control. It had been necessary, for so long, for him to have control in every way. And he had gone into a business that took that and used it, made the most of it.

He couldn’t afford to lose it now.

He had been forced to take to the beach early in the morning, running until his lungs burned and his muscles shook, until he was certain the desire for her had been replaced by utter exhaustion. It was a technique he had used often in the past. It had not worked today.

“Good morning, Mak,” she said, looking up from her breakfast, her tone telling him there was nothing good about seeing him at all. So, she wasn’t so different from last night’s Eva.

“Morning.”

“What’s on my agenda for the day?”

“You are housebound.”

Her head snapped up, her expression fierce. “Is that the way it’s going to be, then?”

“There is a ball coming up at the end of the month.”

“Ah yes, a ball. What is the function of those balls do you suppose? To trot me out before potential suitors.”

“And for women to parade themselves before your brother, right?”

“True. As long as Stavros is single there will be balls. And minor royals gagging to marry a future king.”

“And your brother is as interested in marriage as you are, I take it?”

“Less.” She looked up at him again and for the first time, he saw a vulnerability in her eyes. He also saw her beauty, beauty that was impossible to ignore. “Although he’ll do it. And he’ll do it without argument. That’s how he is. He does what’s best. Feeling … well, feeling never comes into it for Stavros. Is it really house arrest until I’m engaged? Is that my only option?”

“What is it you want, Eva?” He moved to the table and sat across from her. “Beyond creating scandal?”

“Something. Anything. A chance just to be myself for a while. A chance to have some freedom. To live.”

He ignored the slight twinge in his chest. “Your life is different, Eva.”

“Ah yes, I’m a princess. Which, ironically, means I have less control than your average person. Not more.”

“I find it difficult to muster any sympathy for you.”

“So … in lieu of that you plan on watching me eat breakfast?” she asked, finely groomed brow arched. She was stunning. A study in refined beauty. In another life, well, this same life, but a part of it that was so long ago it might as well not have existed, he never would have been able to speak to a woman like her. A woman of her station.

And yet, things had changed. He had found great success. And with every step in his professional life, with every dollar added to his bank account, more had been torn away from his heart, more of the things he loved stripped from him.

Now he was a billionaire. Self-made royalty. The most highly regarded man in his field. And in so many other ways he was bankrupt. He could relate in some ways to her, more strongly than she could imagine.

Still, she was here. She could use her legs, her mouth, her mind. She had so much, and she seemed to appreciate nothing.

“Breakfast, then maybe coffee out on the terrace? Lunch later. A thrilling day for us both.”

She rolled her eyes, the expression making her look like a rebellious teenager. He wasn’t that much older than her. Just nine years. It felt like so much more. “How can you stand this?”

“Simple. I’m getting paid to be here.”

“You don’t need the money.”

“You’re right about that.”

“Then why?”

He shrugged. “I have nothing else to do, and I don’t believe in an idle life. I have built my company from nothing, I have a reputation to protect, and I intend to do it. I see a job through to completion and I don’t intend to stop now.”

“Well, you might have chosen your life, Mak. But I didn’t choose mine.”

He laughed at that. Laughter was a rare thing in his life, yet Eva seemed to make him laugh more easily than most. Unintentionally of course. “I didn’t choose my life, any more than you chose yours. But what I did was make something with it.” No one, not a single person in history, would have chosen the path he’d walked, not knowing where it led. He was certain of that.

“But you said you didn’t have to work … you.”

“I don’t. But I choose to, because I believe in what I do. I started my business for the same reason anyone starts a business. To make money. I did. I kept going, I made more. And now I am here.” He looked around the dining room, bright, with large windows that overlooked a turquoise sea. “I started a job here, and like every job I have ever started, I will see it through to the end. Honor, keeping my word, that’s more important than money. Something I realize you don’t understand.”

“That’s low,” she said, pushing her plate back. “I get that you pride yourself on reading people,” she looked up, her dark eyes blazing, clashing with his, “but you don’t know me. And you won’t until you’re facing a future filled with nothing but endless … endless darkness. An eternity serving other people with no consideration to yourself.”

His stomach tightened. Painfully. It was still so easy to find himself back at Marina’s bedside in his mind. Watching her face, so lovely at one time, contorted with pain, her lips opening for silent screams her damaged mind wouldn’t allow her to articulate. Then sometimes she would scream. Sometimes …

He stood, trying to ignore the raging of his heart. He couldn’t afford an emotional reaction. Not now. Never.

“I will make you a deal, printzyessa. I won’t assume to know you, so long as you don’t presume to know where I’ve been in my life. There are other paths to walk down than the one you speak of. There is darkness you can’t imagine. Darkness no light can cut through.” He breathed in deeply, ignoring the stricken look on her face, finding a foothold in his control and taking it. “Are you through eating?”

“Yes.” She stood too, a hint of curiosity mingling with the anger in her eyes.

“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind showing me the grounds of the palace?”

Eva couldn’t even pretend to be happy about playing tour guide to Mak, particularly since she didn’t believe, for one second, that he wasn’t well-versed in everything pertaining to the Kyonosian palace and its grounds. He’d read her file after all.

“So, now that we’ve covered every wing of the palace, and half of the gardens, be honest with me,” she said. “You already know about everything I’ve told you, don’t you?”

His expression remained stoic as he studied the little alcove. It was on the far end of the gardens, shrouded by hedges, with lattice and grapevines arching over them like a domed ceiling, providing shade and privacy. The ground was covered in stone carved with scenes from ancient stories. It was a sacred place, one her family never seemed to have time for. But she’d always liked it.

“I’ve been over the schematics for the palace in detail, and of course I’ve walked the perimeter, both of the grounds and of the palace itself.”

“This was just to keep me busy.”

“The bodyguard equivalent to a nanny’s cartoon,” he said, his tone as stoic as his face.

She shot him her deadliest glare. “And now you’re being an ass on purpose.”

A small smile curved his mouth. “I have to make my own fun.”

She studied him for a moment, the hard lines of his face. Hardness not even the slight show of humor softened. “You don’t look like you care one way or the other about fun.”

He looked at her, his gray eyes intense. “You’re right. I don’t.”

Being on the end of that look, of those eyes, made her feel hot all over. “So … so you can’t really understand my problem.”

“Your problem?”

She swallowed. “Yes. The fact that I want a life. You can’t understand it because you have no desire to have one of your own.”

He paused for a long moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. It doesn’t mean I don’t understand it.”

More puzzles. He was a complex man. Hard on the surface, letting things glance off without even feeling them. He had erected a barrier between himself and the world, that much was obvious. He was able to talk to her, joke even and yet, it felt as though he was barely giving any of himself in the process. Makhail, who he really was, was hidden behind that thick stone barrier he’d erected. She had a feeling if she could ever get a look behind it, she would find a darkness that would consume her.

Because she could feel it. Could see it sometimes, in his eyes. As frightening as his surface image was, all of that hard muscle displayed to its best advantage by military-grade posture, it was the man beneath that scared her most.

And intrigued her. Made her breath grow short and her stomach get tight. Which was actually scarier than Mak himself.

“Then, if you can imagine it, why can’t you try and understand instead of simply assuming I’m a spoiled brat?”

“Because it’s not my job to do anything that goes beyond your protection.”

“But … you can protect me without holding me prisoner. You can …”

“I don’t work for you, Eva. That means it’s very likely your suggestions are wasted.”

Her stomach tightened. “You’re right. I don’t know why I bothered. You aren’t any different from anyone else. From my father.”

She turned and he caught her arm, his touch sending a blaze of heat through her, her skin on fire where his fingers met her flesh. “And that means?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, determined to keep her composure. Determined to stay strong. “You only care about yourself, and you can use me to further your own end. For my father, it’s about Kyonos. For you, it’s about the job. I’m a person, Mak. And I am sick to death of people forgetting that. Who has to go around reminding people that they aren’t a thing?” Her voice broke and she was horrified by the weakness. She didn’t show weakness. It accomplished nothing. It earned her even less respect than she already got. She cleared her throat. “That’s why your guilt trips don’t work. That’s why I can’t feel bad for wanting more.”

She jerked her arm out of his grasp and walked away as quickly as she could, willing the tears that were forming in her eyes not to fall. She didn’t cry. Ever. She wouldn’t start now.

It was late when Eva decided to try and make her escape. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t care. But there was no way she was allowing Mak to think that he had all the power here, not even close.

She was a princess, and that ought to mean something. Shouldn’t she have some sort of power? Some sort of say in any part of her life?

She tightened the belt on her black trench coat and opened the door to her chambers, her heart pounding. She didn’t usually sneak out of the palace. Usually, she conned her guard into taking her somewhere and sneaked off from there. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, her high heels dangling from her fingertips as she walked down the hall. The marble floor was cold on her feet, but it was preferable to announcing her presence with the click of her heels.

It was dark, and even though it was rare there wasn’t some form of activity happening in the castle, everything was quiet in her wing. She could only hope that there wasn’t anyone loitering in the halls.

She rounded the corner and hit a hot, solid barrier. A hand over her mouth cut off her sharp shriek, strong arms turning her sharply, putting her back to the wall. Her eyes clashed with Mak’s, dark and glittering in the dim hall. She breathed in deeply, her breasts brushing against his hard chest.

Anger, excitement, desire, swirled around inside her. She tried to grab onto anger and hold it steady, keep it at the forefront.

She narrowed her eyes and he lowered his hand.

“I didn’t want you waking the whole castle,” he said, his expression deadly.

“So, you accosted me?” She refused to be intimidated. Refused to let him hear the tremor in her voice. A tremor caused by his nearness, and not so much the scare she’d just had.

“You were sneaking out.”

“How did you know?” she asked, fully aware that she sounded petulant and childish and not really caring at all.

“I have an alarm on your door. Silent, of course.” One side of his mouth lifted into a grim sort of self-satisfied smile. “Surprise.”

“Bastard.”

He released his hold on her. “It’s entirely possible. Likely, in fact.”

“I didn’t mean in the literal sense,” she said, brushing her hand over her arm, where his hand had burned her through the fabric of her jacket. “Of having unmarried parents, I mean. I meant it to mean more that you’re a jerk.”

He shrugged. “Either way, you’re probably correct. Where were you going?”

“To a drink-fuelled party,” she said tightly.

His lips curved into what might have been a smile. “I don’t even almost believe that. Where were you going?”

She looked away from him. “I don’t know. Somewhere.”

“In the middle of the night. By yourself.” His tone was even, but hard. The control injected into each word more unsettling than if he’d been shouting. “You might not be under any current threat, but it seems as though you want to tempt someone to try something.”

“No. That’s not it. I …”

“What is it, Eva? You’re stubborn for the sake of it?”

“Hardly. I wanted to go out. I’m an adult, it seems like I ought to have the freedom to—”

“Oh yes, you think you’re an adult because you’ve reached a certain age, and yet you don’t show that you’re capable of making intelligent decisions.”

“I see, were you required to pass some sort of test demonstrating competence before you made a decision in your adult life?”

He moved closer to her and she stepped back, hitting the wall again. He was so close she could smell him, a faint hint of soap and skin. Musky and enticing. It felt dangerous to be so close to him, and she wasn’t sure why.

“I’ve been making my own decisions since I was thirteen,” he said, his breath fanning over her cheek. “And since then I’ve made good decisions and I have made very, very bad decisions. So trust me, I recognize both kinds when I see them, and I have only seen the bad kind from you.”

She swallowed, ignoring the sudden impulse she felt to draw closer to him. Maybe that’s why it felt so dangerous to be near him. Because controlling herself seemed harder. Because her body didn’t quite seem as though it belong to her anymore. “Bad or good, you were still allowed to make the decisions.”

“And there are some I would take back tonight if I were able to. You don’t ever want to be in that position. Trust me.”

She wanted to touch him. To put her hand on his face. To feel the sculpted muscles that she knew lay beneath his crisp dark suit. She curled her hands into fists and pinned them against the wall, forcing herself to deny the impulse.

He looked at her for a moment, the air between them too thick for her to breathe in. Then he turned away, putting his broad back to her.

“Go back to bed,” he said.

“You’re just … leaving?”

He turned back to her. “Do you need me to come and hold your hand? Tuck you in?”

Her heart slammed into her breastbone. “No.”

He inclined his head. “Good night.”

She just stood and watched him walk away. And tried not to wonder why she wished he would come back.

Makhail cursed the fact that he felt bad for her. That he felt anything at all. But the look on Eva’s face before she’d stormed out of the gardens the day before, and her escape attempt that same night, had done something to him. Had appealed to the small bit of humanity he had left inside of him. One he had thought long snuffed out.

She’d spent the rest of the day yesterday in her room. Her father had considered it a victory. It kept her well out of the spotlight, after all.

Mak had not seen it the same way. He wasn’t in the business of dealing with people who didn’t want to his services. And as much as he hated the parallel, he was essentially a babysitter with a gun.

And Eva was unhappy. Desperately so.

I want to live.

That word, live, had hit him hard in the chest. There was something about her in that moment that reminded him of Marina. When she’d been vibrant, whole, with her entire life stretching before her.

I don’t need anything but you, Mak. Everything else can wait.

Except there had been no future for her, no later time to experience the things she’d longed for. In one moment everything had changed. All of the somedays they’d planned had been lost. And he had thought, so many times, that death would have been sweeter than what Marina had been left with.

There had been many times he’d thought of what he would do differently. If he could turn time back eleven years and redo everything.

He’d been doing nothing but thinking of that since Eva had shut herself in her room.

He stalked down the corridor and into the dining room, where Eva was alone, eating breakfast at the same table she’d eaten at yesterday. A table that could comfortably seat thirty, but seemed only ever to seat her.

“Morning,” she said tightly, not looking up.

“Good morning, Eva.”

“We did this yesterday,” she said. “It didn’t go well.”

“Not really.” He looked at Eva, really looked at her. He could change it for her. He could make sure she felt some sense of freedom. He didn’t want to care about her, about her situation. It was a job, only a job. And yet, now that he’d made the connection between Eva and Marina in his mind, it couldn’t be shaken.

When he thought of Marina in the same position, asking for a chance to taste life … he wished she had tasted life.

She hadn’t. And then the opportunity was stolen.

So much of that was his own fault.

He wouldn’t do the same to Eva.

And the attraction you feel has nothing to do with this? He banished the thought. The attraction, such as it was, could mean nothing.

“What do you want, Eva?” he asked, his voice rough, even to his own ears.

She looked at him, her expression wary. “What … what do you mean?”

“I thought about it last night. About what you said.”

“Before or after I had my emotional meltdown?”

“Just before,” he said. “I cannot change what it is your father expects of you. That’s a matter between you and the king. It concerns your country. But we have these months, and I don’t have to keep you in the palace. As long as you’re willing to cooperate.”

“Meaning?” she asked, her tone wary.

“What would it take to make you happy?” he said, his tone hard.

“In this … in this scenario, where you’re asking me … I still have to marry the man my father chooses for me?”

“I told you, that’s a matter between you, one that has nothing to do with me. But there are things I can arranged if you like. Outings. Shopping. Dinner.”

“I … my father says it’s too hard to arrange all of the security required to—”

“Your security is my concern. It might have been too hard for the Kyonosian Guard, but it’s certainly not too difficult for me.”

“You’re not kidding?” she asked, her expression guarded.

“No.”

“I want … I want to choose my own clothes.”

“You don’t pick out your club wear?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I … actually no, it’s all been provided by the palace stylist. And if you saw what other women wore to those sorts of places, you’d believe me.”

“I do,” he said. He’d secured the perimeter of more than one of those types of establishments, though he’d never been in one as a guest. It wasn’t his scene. Not in the least. “What else?”

“And I want to go out and order my own dinner.” She spoke slowly, her words gradually picking up tempo as she went along. “And I want to go to the beach. And … and I want … I don’t even know everything I want because for so long all of my decisions have been made for me.”

She stood, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. “I … Please don’t be lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Something in his stomach twisted. Hard. “I’m not changing what happens in six months. Just what we do now. And you have to stay with me. At all times. If I lose sight of you for a moment, I will personally lock you in your room for the duration.”

Eva swallowed. He was offering her a life line—more than anyone else. Yes, it was just a vapor of what she really wanted. The surface, shallow experiences when there was a deep well of things she craved. But it was something.

Offering her an olive branch, even if he was keeping his distance. It was more than anyone else had done. Her other guards had been silent annoyances, making sure she felt watched, never speaking to her. Never interacting with her.

Mak was the last person on earth she’d expected to break that barrier. But he seemed to understand.

“What’s changed?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” He stood and rested his hands palms on the tabletop.

“Something changed between last night and this morning. Last night you told me I was nothing more than a spoiled brat, and I think you were ready to lock me up then.”

“It’s true.” He walked along the opposite side of the table, his fingers resting lightly on the polished wood surface as he did. “It is not my job to approve or disapprove of the decisions your father has made. I’m here to protect you. That’s the beginning and end of it. As it is with all of my jobs.” He rounded the edge of the table and stood across from her, without the protection of antique furniture between them. “You remind me of someone.”

She took a step toward him, an involuntary action. She simply felt drawn to him. Like seeing brilliant art that you had to get closer to. “I do?”

“Yes. She … If I could give her a day at the beach, I would. But I can’t. So I will give it to you.”

He raised his head, the bleakness in his eyes stunning her, stopping her from moving closer. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t. She knew he wouldn’t tell her. There was something in his voice, a depth and intensity. There was emotion. It had been absent every other time he’d spoken. But not now. This was something real. Something that stretched to a place she couldn’t grasp.

“I … don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Why?”

“It would be far too close to a civilized interaction between the two of us. It hardly seems right.” He looked at her, his eyes assessing. “And anyway, this is all a part of my job. I’m already being paid. I don’t require anything more.”

He might not think it was more, but it was to her. So much more. “All right then. I accept.” She had to do it quickly, in case he changed his mind.

“Good. When would you like to start?”

“Are you free today?”

“I happen to be charged with keeping an eye on a certain princess today, and I can do that anywhere.”

She fought the urge to do something truly juvenile like jump up and down. Or fling her arms around him. “Really. Really, thank you.”

“There are rules,” he said, his voice hard. “You will stay in my sight at all times. You will not question me. On anything. If I say we need to leave, we leave. If I say you need to get down on the ground and cover your head, you do that. If you fail to do any of these things, I will personally see that you are confined to the inside of the palace, and trust me, neither of us wants that.”

His warning glanced off her without impact. She had her eyes on the prize. A day out. The rest didn’t matter. “Fine.”

“Be ready in an hour.”

She smiled and was met with a stony glare in return. “See you in an hour.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHERE to first, printzyessa?”

Eva found herself staring at Makhail’s hand as he gripped the gearshift. Light-colored scars marred his skin, tendon and muscle flexing in his forearm as he put the car in Reverse. Strength was evident in each move he made, even the simple act of driving a car.

Fascinating that just the sight of it, the play of flesh over muscle, could make her heart pound faster. The men at the casino hadn’t done that. They hadn’t done anything for her, not in a physical sense. Being with them offered her a bit of thrill, but it was more related to the fact that she knew she shouldn’t be there. Shouldn’t be letting them touch her arm or flirt with her.

Makhail didn’t flirt. He certainly didn’t offer anything illicit. He was simply there. And his mere presence was enough to make her feel so much her body felt too small to accommodate it.

She didn’t like it. The annoyance didn’t bother her. It was the other stuff, the stuff that made her stomach twist, that was what she didn’t like.

“It would be nice to go and have coffee,” she said. He didn’t respond, only put the car in First and pulled out of the gates of the palace, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Then I could go to a couple of boutiques, maybe.”

It actually sounded boring to her. If she had some friends to share it with, that would be different. But the only people in her life who really passed as friends were Sidney and Marlo Gianakis. The Greek heiresses were only on the island during the summer months, and even then it wasn’t as though they were true friends. Not the sort of friends she’d ever confide anything in.

Their alliance had more to do with a compatible social class than anything else. And since they came with their own security team, their presence gave her the rare chance to get out with permission.

“That will be fun,” she said, more to try and convince herself than for his benefit.

“Sounds like no fun to me, but this isn’t my party,” he said, his tone a study in purposefully undisguised annoyance.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, at his hand again. “It won’t be so bad.” Without thinking, she reached out and trailed her fingers over his knuckles. The contact sent a flash fire through her, igniting at her fingertips and blazing along her veins, molten heat pooling in her stomach.

She turned to look at him. He was still stiff as ever, his eyes fixed ahead. The only sign that she’d touched him was the twitch in his jaw muscle as he tensed.

“Not bad at all,” she said softly, letting her fingers linger on his skin. It was such a strange feeling, foreign, exciting.

She blinked and pulled her hand away, brushing the tips of her fingers with her thumb, trying to figure out if they were hot outside, or if all that heat was beneath the surface.

“Why do you still wear your ring?” she asked. In an attempt to get her focus off his hand, she’d drifted to his other hand. And from there to the platinum wedding band that gleamed on his fourth finger.

Again, his reaction was minimal. Tendons flexed in his hand, a muscle rolled in his forearm. “Tell me, Eva, if you were being kidnapped, held at gunpoint, harassed by an obnoxious man in the coffee shop, would that information somehow benefit you?”

“No, but …”

“Then you do not need it.”

“I thought we were aiming for civility, Mak,” she said, overpronouncing his name.

“Civility, yes. Hand-holding and feeling, sharing, no.”

Her fingertips tingled. She knew he wasn’t referencing that. She hoped he wasn’t. She opened her hand and shook it out. She’d been aiming for flirtatious. Confident. An action befitting the woman the tabloids tried to make people think she was.

The problem was, she didn’t feel like any of those things when she was with Mak. He managed to make her feel every inch the spoiled child he thought she was. All of her efforts to carve out some sense of individuality, some semblance of independence, were reduced to rubble with one searing glare from her gun-toting nanny.

“All right. I suppose we can keep all that to a minimum.”

“To nothing, would be preferable.”

“Well, I’m just curious. And you can’t blame me. Of course I’m going to wonder about you. We’re spending time together and …”

“Don’t think of this as spending time together,” he said, his accent thicker than usual, forcing her to listen carefully to each word. She didn’t really mind. “Think of it as cars in traffic,” he lifted his hand from the wheel and gestured in front of them, at the line of cars that was starting to grow the closer they got to the city. “We’re on the same road for a while, but we’re not traveling together.”

“Right,” she said. “Except you and I are in the same car.”

They were stopped at a light, and he took his eyes off the road for the first time since they’d started driving, one dark eyebrow lifted. “You’re missing the point.”

“No, your metaphor doesn’t work because … well, we are traveling together.”

“No, it still works as a metaphor. Because it’s not meant to be taken literally.”

“Well, it’s just confusing as we’re traveling in the car, but you’re asking me to think of this as us in separate cars on the same road.”

“Now you’re just being obstinate.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile and he turned his focus back to the road.

A small flutter started in her stomach, growing and spreading to her veins, turning into fizzy bubbles as it flowed through her body. “All right. Maybe a little bit. But it’s just that … if we can’t talk at all I’m going to be lonely.”

“I didn’t realize I was meant to protect you, keep you entertained and keep you company.”

She let out a breath. “You’re making it sound like you’re nannying me again. And I’m certain my father is paying you enough to do all three of those things.”

“Actually, as of yesterday, he is not paying me.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“My men made inexcusable errors. And even though I was not personally responsible for those errors, it falls to me to correct it. As I said earlier, it’s not about money. It is about reputation, my standing in the eyes of my potential clients. This may surprise you, but I generally aid in the protection of people who are under a much larger threat than you will ever find yourself in.”

“Like?” she asked, curiosity too piqued to allow her to be offended.

“Men who dare oppose despots in their rigged elections, people who fight for change and find themselves in danger as a result. Sometimes, my clients are less noble. Sometimes it’s simply an entitled sheikh who has offended the wrong people.”

“So this really is babysitting for you?”

He grunted. The sound was noncommittal, designed to drive her crazy without him actually having to insult her. Not with actual words anyway.

“Do you intend to walk for a while?” he asked, as they drove through the main street of old-town Thysius.

“That would be good. I could go to the coffee shop and then to a couple of the boutiques. I want boots.” She wasn’t sure that she really wanted boots, but it was as good a destination as any. Mak, spending time with him, was starting to seem more interesting than boutiques.

“I’ll park and follow you from a distance.”

She swallowed the rising lump of disappointment she had no business feeling. “And they say romance is dead.”

“Romance has nothing to do with this,” he said, his voice hardening as he pulled the car, quick and smooth, into a tight parking space against the curb and between two other vehicles.

“I was being facetious.”

“Wait,” he said, killing the engine and getting out of the car, rounding the back of it. He put on a pair of dark sunglasses. His movements were liquid-smooth, his focus on the area around them. There was no way he could blend in, which meant his only option was to adopt an air of absolute authority. No one would ever question whether he belonged. No one would ever question him, period.

He opened her door and rested his forearm on the top of the car, leaning in. “It’s clear. Put your sunglasses on. Let’s not draw a crowd.”

It was an old trick, and while it wasn’t nearly as successful for her as it was for some, it kept people from recognizing her at a distance at least. A person’s reaction to her was generally one of calm politeness, mixed with a bit of awe perhaps. Which wasn’t ego, it was just her title. She was a princess, and people were generally a little bit awed by royals.

But if a crowd happened to notice her, that was when things could get a little bit on the crazy side. And she wasn’t looking for crazy today. A bit of normal, that was the order of things.

Although, she was starting to wonder if normal was possible in Mak’s presence.

She slipped her large, round sunglasses up over her nose and took her handbag from its spot on the floor. “Ready.”

Mak backed up and moved to the side, allowing her the space she needed to get out of the car. She slid out beneath his arm, his body radiating heat. It was a warm afternoon, a coastal breeze blowing in off the ocean offering the perfect amount of relief from the Aegean sun. Even so, she found she wanted to lean into Mak’s body. To seek his warmth.

Denying that feeling before it could intensify, she moved past him quickly, stepping up onto the sidewalk. Mak looked at her, even with his sunglasses shielding his eyes from her she could tell, and she fought the urge to tug her dress down as far as it would go, to cover a bit more of her legs.

At the same time, she fought the urge to flaunt every bit of leg her simple black sheath dress revealed. She wasn’t sure where either feeling had come from.

“Just walk on,” he said.

“We just got out of the car together, Mak, it’s pretty obvious that I’m with you.”

“Just walk on,” he repeated, his voice firm as he closed the door behind her.

Frustration built in her chest, like a hardening knot. It was completely disproportionate to the situation, but that didn’t stop it from getting even worse.

“Fine,” she said, turning and heading toward her favorite coffee shop. It had been a long time since she’d been able to go out for coffee. Trips out on the town were a rare treat, typically reserved for the times when Marlo and Sidney were around and their security team joined forces with hers. They were always a spectacle, the three of them, with everyone giving them a wide berth. Often, their security detail would go into shops first and clear them of clientele before they went in.

It was all a bit over the top. And as far from normal as anything she could imagine. This would be a different angle on it. Still, hardly normal with a large, muscular man in a custom black suit stalking her like predator.

She turned and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He pretended not to notice, choosing to fade into the crowd around him. Not that he could really fade, not in the sense that he could go unnoticed. But he blended into his surroundings like something organic to the cityscape.

He looked more a part of Kyonos than she’d ever felt she was.

She turned away from him and focused on the shops that lined the narrow streets. English and Greek were spoken in Kyonos, and both languages were printed on signs in newer parts of the city, but in old town, it was predominantly Greek. Here there were still market stalls, with fish and fruit and homemade pitas. She liked it better than the polished, uniform look found deeper in the city.

She made her way into the kafenio, and she could feel Mak follow her in. She focused on the surroundings instead of turning to look at him. She always enjoyed coming here. It was small, with lavish details carved into darkly stained wood. Old books filled the shelves and mismatched armchairs were placed in front of small boutique tables.

It was intimate. Quirky. Everything the palace was not. Everything she looked for when she sought to escape the confines of her family home.

She approached the counter and spoke in Greek to the woman working the register.

“Coffee. Metrio, please.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up, a shot of adrenaline spiking in her veins. Mak had gotten closer to her. Strange how she was so certain of that fact. That she was so very aware of him. “And another please. No sugar.”

Mak didn’t seem like the sugar type.

Eva paid for both drinks and collected the white cups after the woman finished pouring the thick coffees. “Efharisto,”

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