The Princess and the Player

by J Santiago

  He was an imposing figure, broader and taller than the other footballers, reminding Ele of a rugby player. He was handsome enough to be a model if footballing didn’t last much longer. His complexion was darker than Tristan’s, and he wore a day-old scruff on his cut jawline. His lips were perfectly shaped, like an artist wanting to display the quintessential form had drawn them. His light-brown eyes were surrounded by heavy brows. Where Tristan was lighthearted and smiling, Rowan was severe and serious. She couldn’t help but wonder how Tristan and Rowan were so close despite their obvious differences. Speaking to the press though, Rowan displayed a charm that surprised her.

  He took his last question, and one wayward reporter turned toward her and Juliana.

  “Your Highness,” the bespectacled man said, directing his question to Ele, “what did you think of Tristan Davenport’s quote about you?”

  She smiled tightly. “We are here to support the team and their great accomplishment last night,” Ele stated, clearly not willing to go down this path with the reporter.

  “ ‘GLOBAL WARMING IS NOT JUST A THEORY,’ ” he continued, his voice getting louder as the other paps turned their cameras her way. “Doesn’t necessarily sound like something a friend would say.”

  A spark of heat ignited in her belly.

  She looked for Millie, keeping her face neutral. Millie’s bland expression communicated the truth of the reporter’s claims. Ele’s eyes flashed back to the mob of people and the light of flashes. She saw movement in her peripheral as Tristan tried to step up to the podium. She watched helplessly as Ramsey put a hand on Tristan’s chest, stopping him. Their eyes met, and she slightly shook her head. The last thing they needed was for Tristan to comment. He held her gaze, trying to calm her. But her hands formed fists as heat and acid percolated in her belly. She swallowed compulsively, warmth spreading out, licking up the column of her neck. Ramsey tried to end the questions, but more paps joined the fray, shouting out to Ele.

  Juliana, who had been silent by her side, stepped away from her, leaving Ele exposed. She saw this going badly in her mind, and that one thought sent her down the rabbit hole. There was jostling near her, and then all of the cameras turned away, focusing on something to her left. She turned her head and saw Juliana as she lifted her arm around Rowan’s neck and pressed her mouth to his. He was indecisive for a split second before he seized her around her waist— to push her away, Ele thought. But then his hands tightened on her waist, and he pulled her into him. The kiss turned carnal, and as the paps’ cameras fluttered and bulbs flashed, Robert maneuvered Ele away from the melee and into the waiting Range Rover. Belatedly, she realized Michael must have gone to get it when the press conference went bad.

  Robert jumped in the back with her, and Michael pulled away.

  Ele braced for the vise grip on her lungs, the constriction on her chest, but it never materialized.

  They drove for a while; Ele had no idea how long.

  Finally, Robert looked over to her. “Okay?” he asked, his voice even.

  She nodded.

  He smiled. “Good girl. I’m proud of you.”

  Ele tried to smile back, but it just wouldn’t come. Her mind was racing, not one thought tangible. They continued to drive, and she realized Robert was giving her time to get ahold of herself.

  Bless him.

  “What was Juliana thinking?” Ele said when she could finally form words.

  “Saving you,” Robert answered.

  Ele blinked. “How often has she done that?”

  “To that extreme? Not once. But in little ways, deflecting attention? Quite often.”

  A myriad of memories bombarded Ele. Jules’s hand grasping hers at appearances, the upstaging and effusive attitude with the press, her more flamboyant outfits. The “incidents” Juliana always seemed to cause that often followed a social bomb by Ele.

  She dropped her head into her hands. “How did I not see it?”

  Robert sighed. “You couldn’t.”

  “How much more do they pay you to be my head of security?”

  “Ma’am?” he said, obviously confused by her.

  “I mean, you have to put up with so much, do so much more, be a thousand times more vigilant with me. How did you get the short end of the stick?”

  “Ah, Eleanor,” he said softly. His hand snaked around her opposite shoulder, and he pulled her to him. He dropped a quick kiss on her head before he said, “I would do it for free.”

  He released her, and the moment passed in such a way that she wasn’t even sure it’d happened.

  “Robert,” Ele began, making a hasty decision, “why did you give Tristan the file on me?”

  He chuckled softly. “I’m a soldier, Your Highness. I don’t take much stock in fairy tales. But the day you met Mr. Davenport, something changed. The second he spoke to you, you seemed to open up. From the outside, it seemed like a tether ran between the two of you. Millie felt it too.” He paused, not to gather his thoughts because Robert didn’t need to gather or think. It was like his thoughts came to him fully formed. “Then, when he pulled you out of that panic attack—something no one, not even Jamie, could do—I thought it was worth seeing what would happen.

  “We all have keys to us. Some of us have more than others. I think you have one singular key that can unlock you, heart and soul. I’m not sure if it’s in the pages of the dossier I assembled. But I think Mr. Davenport might be the only one who can find out. It doesn’t mean you will spend the rest of your life with him. But right now, Tristan Davenport is the right man for you. His sole purpose in being born might have been to help you.”

  “He would probably disagree. I mean, he is awfully talented with that ball at his feet.”

  Robert smiled; she knew it was more for her than because what she’d said amused him. “But he needs to understand what happened to you. And you need to be able to talk about it.”

  Robert looked forward again, signaling the end of the conversation. Ele returned her gaze to the window.

  Now that the danger had passed and she’d managed to keep her sanity, she recalled the press conference. And she giggled.

  Robert’s head snapped around so fast that she feared he’d suffered whiplash.

  Her hand flew to her mouth, and she giggled harder.

  “Ma’am?”

  Robert obviously thought she might be cracking under the pressure. She reached out and patted his hand. As far as she knew, she and Robert had never had any physical contact. And in the last couple of minutes, they’d touched twice.

  “Rowan Beckwith is not going to be happy with Juliana.”

  Robert’s mouth quirked on the left side—his tell when he wanted to give in to something funny. “No, ma’am, I don’t suppose he is.”

  She fidgeted in her seat. “Robert?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Do you think someone has posted that kiss on the internet yet?”

  19

  5 July

  Denver to Chicago

  Robert, Millie, Harry, Juliana, and Ele sat around the conference room table. Noah hit a button on the wall, and a large screen unfurled from the ceiling. When it reached its destination, Noah took his seat in front of an open laptop. Beside Ele, Juliana shifted, her chair squeaking, providing a voice to her discomfort.

  “Why do we have to do this?” she complained.

  Noah grunted as he cued up the computer.

  Sympathy rushed through Ele. She didn’t want to subject her sister to something that obviously made her so uncomfortable. Ele rocked her chair into Robert’s, silently pleading with him to stop the madness. Robert shook her off. He didn’t do anything without a purpose, so she stopped trying to save her sister.

  The press conference started on the screen in front of her. There were multiple views of the action, six different vantage points. The first was focused on Ele, the second on Juliana, the third zeroed in on Tristan, the fourth on Rowan. The last two were wide angles, showing the entire press conference
from the left and the right. As Nicolas Ramsey answered questions, Ele took stock of her complicity in bringing this viewing about. Had she kept her curiosity at bay, she wouldn’t have asked Robert about the kiss. And they might not be sitting here, watching as Juliana shriveled with embarrassment.

  Unfortunately, she’d sat through numerous debriefings in her lifetime.

  When a poor image of the palace was projected, the team watched the offending appearance, looking for reasons and fixes so it wouldn’t happen again. At some point, she would have to talk to the queen about the incidents today, and she needed to be prepared to offer an explanation or at least some kind of convincing apology for the absolute chaos.

  Her attention shifted to the screens, even as she wished she were anywhere but sitting in this particular conference room with the assembled staff. It was one thing to wish to see what had happened, to joke with Robert about it in the car. Quite another to be subjected to scrutiny and judgment.

  Ele shivered with unease as she caught sight of her face on the screen. She looked like she was wearing a mask. Her face was frozen in an unnatural pose, one she didn’t think she could muster if she stood in front of a mirror, trying. Over the years, there had been pictures, capturing her looking stiff and uncomfortable. But seeing it in live action, the physical response to the stress brought to mind a boxer bracing for a blow. Waiting for it. It was disconcerting to look at the woman on the screen, as it didn’t even feel like she was the person in the picture. The action unfolded as Juliana left her side in the video. Drawn to her sister’s movement, she watched the steady progress as Jules made her way to Rowan.

  Juliana provided a diversion for sure, but the intent and purpose on her face gave her actions a bit of an ulterior motive. There was little question Juliana knew where she was going before she took her first step. It was the perfect distraction to draw attention away from Ele.

  She reached out, squeezing Juliana’s shoulder—a unspoken thank-you. Juliana jumped, not expecting the contact from her sister. When Jules reached up and squeezed Ele’s hand in appreciation, Ele smiled.

  Noah’s head dropped to the table, and Harry coughed when the kiss took over four of the screens. As the kiss heated up, everyone around the table shifted uncomfortably. It might have begun as a distraction, but there was something behind the lip-lock—for both Rowan and Juliana. Ele looked away, somehow hoping one less person in the room focused on the scorching hot kiss would somehow ease Juliana. With nothing else to look at, her eyes drifted to the corner screen, the one with Tristan as the star. His eyes never faltered, never shifted, never moved. With singular purpose, Tristan Davenport watched Ele like a sentry, eagle-eyed and ready, in the event he needed to swoop in and save someone—her. Warmth suffused her, weaving through her blood.

  She had no idea what Tristan felt for her, and if she had to articulate her feelings for him, she didn’t know what words to use to describe it. But seeing Tristan uber-focused on her answered some questions, turned the mechanisms on those locks. She reached a decision without even knowing she’d been teetering on the edge of something monumental.

  The video feed ended, and for a moment, no one spoke.

  “Juliana, I am sure we will be receiving a directive from the palace after they have seen this and come up with a plan,” Harry said, lips tight, voice strained.

  Ele froze. The queen’s warning came back to her. There was no way she was going home before this was through.

  “I’ll handle the palace,” Ele said. “Harry, please wait for a word from Millie once I have spoken with the queen. I would like for you to be difficult to contact until you hear from us.”

  Millie’s head snapped to her. Ele never engaged with Queen Lilian. She did as she was told. Millie knew it—hell, everyone in the room knew it. But no one else was bold enough to question Ele’s statement.

  Ele stood. Robert and Millie followed.

  She bent over the top of Juliana’s chair, placing an impulsive kiss on the top of her head. “I see you,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

  Then, with her team behind her, she exited the room. As they traversed the corridor, Michael fell into step.

  “Robert,” Ele said crisply as they walked, “I want to speak with Rowan. Please set it up.” After a few more steps, she spoke to Millie, “Please arrange a call with the queen.” She took a breath, trying to strategize. “And Jamie.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am, the team returns to Chicago today. We are supposed to follow. Do you want me to set it up for tonight?”

  “The sooner, the better.”

  The day, which had seemed interminable before the viewing, was infinitely longer now. Beatrix and Millie packed, Robert secured the plane and the airport, and Michael worked with Harry and Noah.

  An hour after they’d left the conference room, they were on their way to the airport. Three hours later, they were back in their Chicago-based hotel. Thirty minutes after that, Ele followed Michael with Robert trailing, down the hall, on her way to Rowan’s hotel room.

  “He is okay with this?” Ele asked as they moved purposefully.

  “I didn’t ask if he was okay with it. I told him you wished to see him, and I gave him a time.”

  Rowan didn’t seem the type to like being told what to do. As they arrived at his door, Ele was hit with a wave of exhaustion. After a conversation with Jamie and the queen, she’d used more intellectual power in the last two hours than she had in months.

  She knocked lightly on the door. Rowan opened it and bowed. But she had seen his face before he buried it under the illusion of respect. She kept her back straight. She was determined to get through this meeting without further upsetting Rowan Beckwith because he meant the world to Tristan. And she remembered that he was someone to Jules.

  “Mr. Beckwith, thank you for agreeing to see me,” she said as she entered the room.

  “Didn’t have much choice,” he responded.

  But he led her to the small sitting area and waited for her to sit. It wasn’t much, but she’d take it.

  She gave him time to settle in the chair across from her. As she studied him, she decided Rowan Beckwith would make a good royal. He rarely dropped his guard. Even now, after a long day of travel, he appeared buttoned up with a crisp white shirt tucked into a slim-fitted dark jeans. He wore plain-toe oxford shoes. He could be dropped onto a runway in the midst of a fashion show.

  Ele heaved a calming breath. She’d never done this before, willingly sacrificed her secrets for someone. It was appropriate to do it for her sister, who had happily been putting herself on the line for years. As prepared as she had been for this encounter, she struggled to begin.

  Rowan shifted in his seat.

  “I want to apologize for the spectacle today.”

  Rowan raised one of his perfectly defined brows. “I’m not sure the apology should come from you.” His tone was patient, his speech impeccable.

  Ele glanced away, searching for strength. This was the third tough conversation of the day, and she still had one more to complete. “Actually, the apology is mine to give because Juliana’s actions today were directly related to me.”

  Rowan furrowed his brow, intently watching her. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I suffer from panic attacks.” Wow, admitting it had been difficult. She looked away from him, his gaze too much to handle. “I have for a number of years. Apparently, Juliana has taken to providing diversions to keep attention off me.” She’d taken some time on the plane to think about all of Juliana’s incidents and how the press had immediately followed her. “Today, Jules could see the beginning of an attack. With nowhere for me to disappear to—literally nowhere to hide—she tried to deflect their attention.”

  Silence descended between the two of them. How much more should she say? If he wasn’t willing to forgive Jules, there was nothing more she could do.

  “We—my siblings and I—don’t expose each other’s secrets. So, even if you had a
n opportunity to confront her, she would never tell you what had prompted her to …”

  “To attack me in front of the press?”

  His statement angered her. She’d watched the interactions, ad nauseum, and she knew Rowan had responded quite favorably to Juliana during the kiss.

  “Let’s not pretend you were upset about it,” she snapped.

  His eyes narrowed, and Ele immediately regretted her words.

  Rowan leaned back in his seat. “I have a significant other, Your Highness.” He allowed the tidbit of information to dangle between the two of them. And it certainly complicated things. “The conversations I’ve had to engage in today were uncomfortable and, quite frankly, completely unnecessary. I should be concerned only about my team and preparing to play the number one national team in the world. Instead, I’ve had to talk to my girlfriend, my agent, my mother, my club manager, my national team manager, and my mates. I’ve had a shit day with way more conversations than I normally have in a week. To defend myself against my own actions—that, I am more than capable of taking responsibility for. I can appreciate you coming here and talking about something that is obviously problematic for you. I respect you for laying your shit at my feet for the sake of your sister. But don’t expect me to be okay with being used for any purpose. I am not a pawn for anyone. Club, team, family, and country included.”

  Ele kind of wanted to hate him. Instead, she found herself respecting him. He was all Skipper right now. She had no idea what was behind the pawn comment, but somewhere in Rowan Beckwith’s past, he’d been used, and all those walls he’d erected around himself were there for a purpose.

  Ele stood and smoothed her hands down the front of her pants. She’d said what she came to say. She’d slain one of her demons in the past ten minutes. Obviously, she’d not cleared the way for Juliana, but at least now, he had an understanding of her motivations. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough to forgive her, but they did not run in the same circles, and this was one of those times when she needed to cut her losses.