by J Santiago
Sighing, she jerked the phone in Robert’s direction. “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked.
Tristan stood, with his hands raised, in the end zone of an American football stadium.
Robert cleared his throat. “American football goalposts.”
Ele’s brow furrowed.
With a sigh, Robert gently took the phone from her and returned it to his pocket. “TD—Tristan Davenport. TD—here in America, a touchdown, ma’am.”
Confused, she continued to stare at him, waiting for an explanation.
“A goal in American football is called a TD.”
She rolled her eyes. “He can be so juvenile.”
“Quite,” Robert agreed.
Juvenile or not, she was desperate to see him or talk to him.
“Robert—”
“No.”
“But it’s your fault in the first place.” God, talk about juvenile. Jeez, Ele.
Robert didn’t dignify her words with a remark. Ele, feeling foolish and stupid, looked out the window. She could say she’d exhausted every avenue today. She’d tried asking nicely, pleading, cajoling, whining, and demanding. Robert refused to help her, but she needed to talk to Tristan today, and she knew just how to do it.
They pulled into the hotel parking lot thirty minutes later. Although she followed protocol, she rushed through the security checks to get to her room. Once there, she changed her clothes. She waited a bit and then picked up the hotel phone and called the front desk.
When the clerk answered, Ele said, “Margaret Smith’s room,” using the code name assigned.
Juliana picked up on the second ring.
“Can you shake Noah,” Ele asked, “and make sure Robert sees you when you come to my room?”
Jules cackled. “Does the queen wear her crown to bed?” Jules responded before disconnecting.
Ele chuckled. The three of them were convinced Queen Lilian wore her crown everywhere, if for no other reason than to assure herself that everyone she encountered would see it perched on her lovely head. Ele didn’t have to wait long for her sister to show up. And Jules did not disappoint.
“Perfect,” Ele murmured.
Jules walked in the door, a sullen-faced Robert behind her. He bowed and left the sisters alone.
“I need your clothes,” Ele explained.
Jules’s face lit up with her trademark mischievous grin. She didn’t ask questions or hesitate. She stripped out of her fuchsia joggers, black sweatshirt, and black-and-pink trainers. Ele did the same, shucking her flannel pajama pants and tank top. They switched. When Ele was dressed, Jules circled her.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the sofa. “Let me get your hair right.”
Ele’s hair was still in an elegant chignon from their appearance earlier. Jules made quick work of the pins and brushed her fingers through Ele’s hair. She pulled it up into a ponytail and dropped the hat on her head.
“I wore it low and gave Robert the usual hard time, so you should be good to waltz out of here.”
Ele nodded. She stood up and took off for the door. Jules grabbed her arm before she could grasp the handle.
“Are you sure about this?” Juliana asked, her features creased with worry.
Up until the moment Jules had asked the question, Ele hadn’t even given it any thought. She would be going to a different floor of the hotel. She didn’t even have to walk outside. There wasn’t anything to be worried about—no unknown elements, no unidentified people. She just needed to talk to Tristan.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Do you know where to go?”
“Yes. Robert briefed me on evacuation routes before we arrived. I know where I need to go.”
She avoided telling Jules where she was going and why. Jules, while far more street-smart than Ele, would always be her younger, wilder sister. Walking around a hotel by herself was a normal occurrence for Jules. There was no reason it couldn’t be .for Ele. She reached for the door again.
“Are you sure he’s worth it?”
Ele stopped in her tracks. It was the simplest of questions. Her conversation with the queen came back to her. They’d all been patiently waiting for Ele to be normal. Twelve years of waiting. For the first time since that day, Ele found something she wanted. Maybe he wasn’t perfect for her. Maybe he wouldn’t end up being worth it. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. If she walked out this door and tried to do something by herself, for herself, then the question was answered. Because Tristan might not end up being for her. But she wanted this right now.
So, she answered the only way she could, “Yes.”
Then, she pulled open the door.
Because, most importantly, she was worth it.
11
19 June
The Michigan Inn
Tristan threw the controller and raised his hands in the air. “Victory!” Then, he looked at Caleb. “Again.”
“All right, Junior, out of the way.”
“Ro, you have to get out of the losers bracket before you can take on the champ,” Tristan said, lifting his training shirt at the chest, emphasizing his number. He snickered. “Grumpy Gramps is going to try to take me down for you,” he teased them with a wink at Caleb.
“Whatever. I can’t help it that you have five years more practice time,” Caleb responded with far more indignation than necessary.
“That’s right, Junior. I will always have more experience than you.” Tristan wiggled his eyebrows, and Rowan threw a pillow at his head.
“Go grab a couple of drinks for us. I’ll handle you when you get back,” Rowan commanded.
“I got you, Skip,” Tristan said before he turned and bounded out of the room.
The hotel had a hospitality room available for them, filled with approved snacks and drinks. Tristan strolled down the hallway, scrolling through his phone. He pulled up his photos and picked one of the us-ies he had taken with the boys, playing video games. Quickly, he loaded one and wrote, Downtime well spent. Adding a couple of smiling emojis, he posted. He flipped back through his pictures, searching fruitlessly, knowing what he was looking for didn’t exist. He had zero evidence of his relationship with Ele.
Relationship? He shook his head.
The day had been lighthearted and fun. Cavorting around Chicago with Caleb’s family and playing video games all evening should have steamrolled the epic finale of the night before. Around midday, he’d realized he’d been an ass to Ele. But by then, it had been too late to do anything about it.
He slipped into the hospitality room and rummaged through the offerings. Grabbing a couple of drinks, he headed back to Caleb’s. He was about to knock when the Exit door closed, drawing his attention, but when he looked, there was nothing there. As ridiculous as it seemed, something continued to hold his interest. He rapped on Caleb’s door, and when it opened, he handed the drinks to Rowan.
“Be right back,” he said.
He walked to the stairwell door, peering inside. A flash of pink darted around the corner to the floor below.
“Ele?” Tristan whisper-yelled.
A squeak of trainers on the rubberized floor alerted him to the person’s presence. He let the door close silently behind him, and he followed the steps down. Against the wall on the landing below stood a wide-eyed princess. Tristan remained where he was, seven or eight steps above her.
He tilted his head in question. “Where’s Robert?” he asked.
Ele bit her lip, and her eyes skittered away from his. “Probably outside of the suite.”
“And what are you wearing?” he asked. He tried to disguise the mirth in his expression, but she looked so unlike herself that he couldn’t help but tease.
Ele glanced down at her outfit, and her head leaned back against the cement wall. “I ordered Juliana to give up her clothes.”
Tristan chuckled. “You are just full of surprises.”
She peered up at him. “Are you still mad at me?”
His expression i
mmediately sobering, he skipped down the steps separating them. Without any thought, his hands were cupping her jaw, and his mouth was on hers. He kissed away all of his confusion and doubts, finding answers he hadn’t realized he was looking for. She melted against him, pliant. When her arms wrapped around him, he gently pushed her back, pinning her with his body. She molded to him perfectly, like she’d been created with him in mind or he had been fashioned specifically for her. With their lips fused and tongues dancing, Tristan could believe they had been made for each other, could forget all the differences and potential problems, could see past the crown to the woman destined to wear it.
He finally came up for air, raining tiny kisses on her jaw, down her neck. He nudged the hoodie aside and skimmed his teeth along her collarbone. Everything about her was already familiar—her scent, his favorite spot on her body, her exaltation when he nipped her with his teeth, her hands gripping him.
The opening and closing of the door on another floor broke them apart. Tristan straightened and listened to the pounding of feet. Stuck between two floors, he was relieved to note the people were below them. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her up the steps. He ignored the flash of panic he saw in her eyes and calmly led them out of the stairwell. Looking both ways, he led the way to his room. Reaching for his key card, he slid it in front of the lock and pushed the door open. He escorted Ele forward with a hand on the small of her back. He was about to step inside when he glanced up and saw Rowan and Caleb looking at him from down the hall.
Caleb practically screamed, “Did you just sneak a woman into your room?”
Tristan closed his eyes, praying for some serenity. He heard a smack and opened them to see Rowan shoving Caleb back into the room. Protesting loudly, Caleb went. But Rowan leveled Tristan with a disappointed look. Shaking his head, Rowan followed Caleb and shut the door.
“Bloody hell,” Tristan muttered.
When he entered his room, Ele was standing in the foyer, the same wide-eyed look plastered on her face.
“That’s not good,” she stated, wringing her hands.
“It’s not bad either. Caleb and Rowan are my mates. They are not going to say anything.”
“Do you think they know who I am?”
He could be honest and tell her he was pretty sure Rowan knew, but her panic was already skyrocketing. So, he lied, “No way. You can’t see your face with that cap. To Caleb, you were just a girl.”
He was sure he’d seen anxiety a moment before, but when their gazes locked, there was more annoyance than anything.
“Because you just bring random girls to your room often?”
Tristan suppressed his laughter—barely. He obviously wasn’t the only one with a possessive streak. He stepped forward with deliberation, stalking her. She must have noted his intent because her hands landed on her hips, and her eyes narrowed. He was almost to her when she held up her hand in that way she had when she was in tiara mode. He had the same reaction he’d had the night before and in the locker room all those months ago. He might be able to handle it in those instances—or, he might be able to figure out how to handle her royal attitude. But here, in his room, when all he wanted was to get his hands on her, she was not in charge.
He took hold of her wrist and pushed it behind her back, pulling her flush against him. A sound of indignation fell from her lips before it melted into a sigh of pleasure. He was hard against her, indicating her power play wasn’t necessarily too much for him to take. Her free hand dangled uselessly against her side, so he wound his fingers through hers.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Tristan found himself saying. All day, he’d wanted to talk to her, but he hadn’t really known what he was going to say. That it was an apology falling from his mouth surprised him.
Ele went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “It was my fault,” she murmured against his mouth. “I default. When I’m nervous or caught off guard, my inclination is to duck behind my crown.”
“Tiara mode,” he said.
Ele dropped back to flat feet, peering at him. “Tiara mode?”
Then, she cracked up, her whole body shaking. He pulled her tighter to him, and she lay her forehead on his chest.
Ah, that laugh.
When she settled, she said, “I think I’ve laughed more in the last two days than I have in years.”
The thought saddened him.
“Jamie is going to love that phrase, by the way.”
When he’d pulled her into his arms, he’d intended to get her naked as soon as possible. But he realized there was more to discuss than they’d gone over last night. It wasn’t enough to wait for the Bat-Signal from Robert for him to follow their predetermined routine to see each other. What if she needed him or, like today, he needed to talk to her? There had to be some way for them to talk to each other without a middleman.
He released her arm from behind her back and nodded to the bed. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly and then sat down on the bed. She kicked off her shoes and folded her legs in front of her. She looked like a kid instead of a woman who’d just returned from a state dinner at the consulate.
“Today was interesting,” he began.
She smirked. “Yes, it looked like you were really put off when you were on the Ferris wheel.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “How did you know I was on the Ferris wheel?”
Blushing, she said, “I might have looked at your photos on social media.”
“How did you do that?”
“Robert’s phone.”
His brow furrowed. “Do you not have a phone?”
“I do.”
“I need your number then.”
Ele looked away from him. “I’ll have to ask Robert.”
“About giving me the number?”
“Yes, and, well, what the actual number is.”
Confused, he tried to figure it out. “So, you have a phone, but you don’t know the number. And you could have given it to me, but you need to ask Robert.”
“Smartphones are easy to hack. Basically, every three to four weeks, I get a new disposable phone. The numbers I need are already programmed into the phone. But still, I hardly use it.” She paused, and he could see her discomfort. “You know I need things to be a certain way. Because of that, I hardly have use for the phone. Millie and Robert handle things.”
“So, any privacy you want or need—”
“Is already scheduled.”
“Any privacy we are going to want or need …”
“I haven’t gotten that far. You were … unexpected.”
He was at a loss. “I wanted to talk to you today. I wanted to see you. I had no way to make that happen.”
“You could have called Robert.”
“You had to sneak out.”
“I asked him, but he refused. He left me little choice.”
Tristan wandered over to the desk. He scribbled his number on a piece of stationery and handed it to her. “Memorize it.”
She looked up at him. “Okay.”
He leaned in, placing his hands on either side of her. “I don’t like not having a way to get in touch with you. Talk it over with Robert and let me know how he wants to handle it.”
She nodded. Then, her arms were around his neck, and she was falling back onto the bed, taking him with her. He dropped into the cradle of her thighs and propped himself up, giving her space. He moved his leg, spreading hers wider, rocking against her. Their sighs of satisfaction mingled together, a perfect melody. He dipped his head and ran his lips up her neck until he reached her mouth. Then, he dived in.
All of the desperation of the day, the frazzled thoughts, the stifled apologies, the inability to talk to her poured into the kiss. She opened to accommodate him, absorbing his forcefulness and meeting his demands. Heating quickly, Tristan’s hands followed. He was like an octopus, everywhere all at once. Up her hoodie, down her tights—mapping, memorizing, capturing. In record time, his finge
rs were inside of her, circling, flicking, opening her up to him. Like the night before, everything moved with speed, like if he didn’t take what he wanted, what he needed, the opportunity would be lost. He bartered with time and circumstance. In mere minutes, he had her gasping through her orgasm.
He was content with just this—her in his arms, trying to catch her breath, looking completely blissed out. He had no intention of going any further. His hands continued to caress her, but his mind was on the problems and complications of carrying on an affair with her.
When the knock sounded on his door seconds later, he realized he’d been waiting for Robert to come. Unsurprised and unmoved by the interruption, he kissed her swift and light.
Ele, however, startled. “Do you think that’s Rowan?”
“No, E. I think it’s Robert.”
Ele tried to sit up, wiggling away from him and straightening everything. Her cap had fallen off, so she grabbed it and shoved it on her head. She jumped to her feet, looking guilty and nervous. Tristan, on the other hand, stood leisurely, adjusted his rapidly deflating erection, and padded slowly to the door. Just as he was about to look through the peephole, an impatient knock sounded.
Tristan opened the door just enough to admit Robert.
He expected a pissed-off bodyguard, but Robert was stoic.
“Davenport.”
“Robert.” Tristan couldn’t resist adding, “Took you longer than I’d thought.”
With an impassive face, Robert winked at Tristan before saying, “Just long enough, I’m assuming.”
Ele came forward, penitent. “I’m so—”
“Your Highness,” Robert interrupted gently.
He’d been emotionless with Tristan, but Tris could see Robert’s restraint. He was angry, but he wasn’t going to take it out on Ele.
