by J Santiago
“Thank you for seeing me,” she said.
She turned to walk to the door.
“Your Highness,” he said, making Ele pause and look back at him, “is she okay?”
Ele thought about it. She did not have her finger on the pulse of Juliana’s moods or life. But she’d glimpsed her sister’s face during the video review. There was no triumph in her expression, no light in her eyes.
“I honestly don’t know.” How much of my soul am I willing to display for this guy? “She’s in a bit of hot water with the queen, which is never fun. And I think, even if she feels bad for what she did, I’m not sure she feels bad about her motivations.” Ele nodded.
She lifted her hand to the knob but paused when he spoke behind her, “I think your people—your brother, your PPO—have gone out of their way to speak to Tristan. It’s not so easy to get an audience with you.”
She faced him.
Rowan crossed his arms over his chest, ever defensive. “Let him go.”
Ele mirrored his pose and waited.
“You are locked up so tight; when you unravel, you’re going to take him down with you.”
Ele stiffened. Maybe the first part of his sentence was a fair assessment. But she wasn’t going to hurt Tristan.
“He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into. But you know. You know what he’d have to give up if this goes any further with you.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Tristan and I are clear on what this is and what this isn’t.”
They stared each other down, eyes locked, faces set.
“Make sure you don’t forget,” Rowan said.
“And you make sure you stay away from my sister,” she responded.
“Don’t worry; if she comes within fifty meters of me, I’m running in the opposite direction. I’m no Prince Charming.”
“Yes, Skip,” she said sarcastically, “you’ve quite proven that.”
A knock on the door broke the staring contest.
“Probably your escort.” Rowan moved around her, making her step away from the door. He looked through the peephole before shaking his head. “Like this day could get any worse.”
Then, he pulled it open.
Tristan looked back and forth between the two of them.
He covered his surprise and confusion quickly but not fast enough for Rowan or Ele to miss it.
His head tilted as he tried to puzzle it out. “What’s going on?”
“I was just leaving,” Ele said at the same time Rowan said, “She was just leaving.”
20
5 July
Chicago, Illinois
Tristan and Rowan shared a look and assurances.
Nothing here, mate.
I know.
Then, Tristan slid his hand into Ele’s and started to his room. They didn’t speak as they walked quickly to get out of the way of a potential audience. When they reached his room, Tristan unlocked it, holding the door for Ele.
As the door closed, Tristan let go of his tightly held control. He stopped her forward progress with a not-so-subtle yank on her arm. She came back around, and he maneuvered her up against the door, pinning her with his body. There was no gentle approach, no light kisses. His lips took hers. She opened under him, and he dipped into her mouth, communicating all of his angst from the morning.
Tristan was a doer. Standing on the sidelines this morning when Ele had been open and exposed was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. His impulse was to rush into the fray, pull her out of the masses, and get her to safety. When her fears took over and that mask of stone slammed down on her features, Tristan knew exactly what was happening to her. Only her panicked plea and Nico’s hand on his arm had made him hold his ground. The restraint of those long moments broke free in his kiss. He communicated all of that with the demands of his teeth and tongue. He couldn’t give in to it earlier. But here, in the privacy of his hotel room, he poured it all into her, and she absorbed his helplessness.
When they came up for air, she soothed him. Her hands moved up and down his back, and he accepted her assurances.
“Thank you for today,” she whispered against his neck, the movement of her mouth against his flesh a kind of sign language. “Knowing you were there helped. I know it was hard for you to do nothing, but doing nothing was actually something.”
She pulled away, and he looked down at her.
“You understand that, right? What you did, which I know you think was nothing, was exactly what I needed.”
Then, she slid right back into her space, tucked under his chin, her hands wrapped around him. Tristan dissolved into her. They remained like that for a moment, leaning up against the door, holding each other.
He’d been off all day. Through the remainder of practice and the travel back, his disorientation had grown, distancing him from what was happening around him. Other people rarely affected Tristan’s moods. He careened through life, dictating his own happiness, his own way. Having his mojo linked to Ele was something he would have to adjust to.
Ele pulled away from him. “I need to talk to you about something,” she said.
Walking into the tiny living space in his room, she sat on the love seat. She patted the space next to her. Tristan followed slowly. But instead of sitting next to her, he climbed over the back and perched on the arm. With his legs bent, he dropped his elbows onto his knees and waited for her.
“I went to Rowan’s room to explain to him what had prompted”—she fidgeted in her seat, smoothing her hands along her thighs—“the kiss.”
Tristan didn’t fight his smile. As pissed off as Rowan was about what had happened and as complicated as it made his life, that kiss was hot. It would forever be fodder against Rowan, but Tristan snickered when he thought about it.
“I’m sure it was uncomfortable to find me in his room.”
Tristan had thought he covered his disorientation well, but based on Ele explaining herself, he hadn’t quite pulled it off. He wasn’t jealous. Mostly. Seeing Ele taking steps to be more independent made him experience this stupid rush of pride. But finding her in his best mate’s room hadn’t exactly been expected or comfortable.
“It was fine. I’d trust Rowan with my life.”
Her brow knit. “But not me?”
“We’re getting there,” he answered truthfully.
“Fair.” Ele shifted, pulling one leg up on the sofa so she faced him more fully. “I explained my panic attacks to Rowan and told him Juliana kissed him to pull the attention off of me.”
“Well done, E.” His grin was wide and unfettered.
This was big for her. To approach someone she didn’t know. To put her insecurities before that person. Two months ago, Ele’s inner circle had been a tiny microcosm; to Tristan, it seemed to be expanding.
“That must have been difficult for you, but Rowan will guard your secret and maybe forgive Juliana. Eventually.”
She laughed somewhat humorlessly. “He’s a tough crowd,” she admitted.
“Aye. But when you get him, he’ll have your back forever.”
“No chance of that then,” she quipped.
“Went bad?” He wasn’t too concerned.
It had taken him forever to win Rowan over. And he was sure Rowan had wanted to hit him more times than he could count their first year.
“Worse than,” she confirmed.
“Don’t sweat it.” He shrugged.
Tristan didn’t spend any time worrying about whether or not someone liked him. They either did or they didn’t. But he understood Ele didn’t open herself up to many people, so dealing with Rowan must have been daunting.
“I watched the press conference earlier today.”
Tristan reared back in surprise. “Really? Why?”
“It’s something we do. Like a hospital morbidity and mortality conference. Have to get to the bottom of what deadly mistakes we made.” It was delivered frankly, but he could sense the sarcasm underneath.
“That sucks. If I had to watch every time I said something off script with the press, I’d spend a lot of my time in—what did you call that?”
“Morbidity and mortality. We call it M and M, and we usually do it with wine. But not today. Today was undertaken stone-cold sober.”
She looked away from him, and he wondered what about today had most bothered her.
“After that, I had to speak to the queen and Jamie. It’s been a long day.”
“What happened?”
“Before I came to the States, the queen met with me. She told me if anything happened with Juliana, I would be responsible. I didn’t want her to get the opportunity to order me home, so I trumped her and struck first.”
“Did you get what you wanted?”
“I did.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her gaze returned to his, and she smiled. She liked the comment; he could tell.
“I didn’t come here to rehash today.”
“Okay. I can think of more fun things to do.” He smirked.
She shot him a goofy grin. She pushed up to her knees and shuffled forward, coming to stop between his legs. Resting her hands on his thighs, she leaned forward and kissed him, quick and intimate. Squeezing his thighs, she backed away and came to rest on the opposite side of the love seat. He warily watched her.
“I was with my parents in Caldonia. We’d been on a goodwill mission for three weeks. It was my first time away with them. Jamie had completed his first trip the year before, and then it was my turn. They’d sat with us the year we turned sixteen and mapped out their plan for bringing us into the fold. We were obviously familiar with life at home, at the palace, with the government. We’d been quizzed on domestic policy as part of our studies since we began primary school. But foreign policy was something we were to learn as adolescents and young adults.”
Tristan tried not to breathe too heavily, even as he realized the import of this conversation. He didn’t want to spook her, but he wanted so badly to pull her into his arms that he had to restrain himself. Fighting against his impulses—not a strength.
“I digress.” She sighed, her hands restlessly rubbed up and down her thighs.
He found himself hypnotized by the movement. Her long, delicate fingers smoothing along her legs.
“We were scheduled for an appearance. I’m actually not even sure where we were supposed to be,” she mused, obviously lost in the memory. “Funny, I thought everything about that day was indelibly etched into my brain.” She shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. “But the day before, my father told me there had been a change in the itinerary. The consulate didn’t think we should go to the place we were scheduled.” She bowed her head, rubbing her hand along her forehead. “I can’t believe I don’t remember where we were supposed to be,” she murmured so quietly that Tristan knew she was speaking to herself. Shaking her head, she looked up. “But the change had come from our own government, so there was no concern. In fact, I remember Father confirming with the palace.”
“Schedules.”
“Right, schedules are important to me now.”
Her hands made another track down her legs, and he moved. He stepped down and walked toward her. He scooped her up into his arms before he sat with her on his lap. One of her hands automatically landed on the back of his neck, and he took hold of the other one. She gazed up at him and smiled gratefully.
“As you know, my parents were assassinated that day. What no one knows is that it happened right in front of me and that the terrorist group who killed them held me captive for three days.” Her eyes looked beyond him now, like she had suddenly left him in the room with her body while her mind was lost in the memory. “I don’t know many details. They say you get a surge of adrenaline in emergency situations, that your instincts just kick in. Only one of my parents’ security guards, Joe, survived the attack. What I know is from his account.”
Tristan thought of the folder in his safe for the hundredth time since Robert had given it to him. Could Robert and Jamie know more than Ele? For the first time, he wished he’d read it instead of waiting for her to tell him.
“I was in the car with them. But in a teenage act of rebellion, I hadn’t worn the hat I was supposed to wear with my outfit. I thought if I just showed up right before we were due to leave, I would get away with it. But my mother sent me and Joe back to the room. We were leaving the lobby; I was literally five steps away from the Rover when it blew. I was thrown back. I couldn’t hear and was disorientated. I remember that part. But when the men came to shoot my parents as insurance, they noticed me. No one knows why they didn’t just shoot me. But they didn’t. They put me in the back of their van and held me in a basement.
“There was nothing traumatic about the captivity. No one bothered me. I know they made some demands, but my grandmother did not bend. Instead, they sent a team in to rescue me. On the team was a twenty-five-year-old sharpshooter who ended up locating me and carrying me out.” She looked up at him. “You know him as Robert.”
For some reason, that didn’t surprise him. There was something almost paternal in the way Robert cared for her.
She stopped talking, apparently done with her recitation. There were hundreds of thoughts bouncing in Tristan’s head. Her eerie retelling left him cold. She might have been telling him about the M & M from earlier or what she had for breakfast. There was no emotion, no connection.
“Did they catch the kidnappers?”
“Shot dead in the rescue.”
“Good.”
With a half-smile for him, she tucked into his chest. “That’s it,” she said so low that he could barely hear it.
He wanted to call her on it. Her recitation, robotic and emotionless, downplayed the utter devastation of the story. That she never spoke to anyone about it, never got help was a complete travesty. It explained some things but not others.
Why didn’t they ever make her ordeal public? She could have been the badass heroine instead of the pathetic princess. She would have garnered more sympathy and understanding if the people knew what she’d endured.
“So, that’s why you and Jamie don’t travel together.”
“One of the reasons, yes.”
“Why can you travel with Juliana then?”
Ele’s head snapped up. “I told you what happened to me. But the rest of it, they’re not my secrets to tell.”
His hand carefully grasped her chin, and he lifted her head up. “You need to talk to someone about this. Someone who can help you deal with what happened and the consequences you are still trying to handle.”
Ele shook her head. “No. Telling you was fine, but I don’t need to talk to anyone else. Plus, it’s getting easier.”
“Ele,” he pleaded.
“Look, I have you now. Since you came into my life, I’ve learned to control it. I’m stronger.”
“But I’m not going to be around for much longer.”
Ele kissed him, soft, sweet. “But you’re here now.”
Tristan was quip-less. He had no ready smile, no one-liner. No pithy encapsulation for her bleak story. He held her, soothing her with small caresses.
For the first time in their acquaintance, he was sorry for her. She had grown up with everything, destined for one particular fate, wanting for nothing but also wanting nothing. She accepted her terrible past like she accepted the role she had to play. But no one had counted on her meeting him. And while he might not be able to change her future, he was damn sure going to see that she dealt with her past.
21
8 July
Chicago
Leaning against a pillar in the parking deck, Tristan buzzed with a sense of accomplishment, and the day hadn’t even begun. Even though the potential for success was outweighed by the possibility of failure, he was excited. He was taking Ele out on a date. And with a win the night before over the
reigning number one, he was on top of the world.
It was part of the plan. The disguise they had come up with, but still, when Tristan saw Ele, he did a double take. The clothing was plain—a pair of nondescript shorts, a simple white T-shirt, white Chucks, a baseball cap—and she made it look haute couture.
“Hey,” he said when she was close enough for him to keep his voice low.
She was in his arms in an instant.
As he wrapped himself around her, he breathed deep. This.
She sank into him. “Hi,” she said against his throat.
“You okay?”
She drew back, so he could see her face. Her smile was bright, not an ounce of trepidation visible. “I am.”
He answered with a grin of his own. “You look perfect.”
Robert cleared his throat. “We should go.”
Tristan looked over at Robert, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t contain his laughter. The man who wore an Armani suit like it was as comfortable as sweats stood near the door of the Range Rover in a baseball jersey, cargo shorts, and trainers. With a hat flipped backward on his head, he was the perfect fan. Ele squeezed Tristan’s hand and winked, her own giggles contained by her rigid self-control.
“As long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen his legs,” she said low, so Robert couldn’t hear.
Tristan cracked up. “If I hadn’t agreed to leave my phone, I would get photographic evidence.”
“Probably why he made you leave it.”
“We should go,” Robert said, eyes narrowed.
Tristan and Ele shared another smile before getting into the back of the car.
Robert walked around to the passenger side and got in. As he sat, he said, “They’re a ten.”
Tristan glanced at Ele.
“What?” she said.
“My legs,” Robert answered.
“Right,” Tristan replied on a sputter of snickers.
The ride into Chicago passed in a blur of murmurs and small touches. Tristan and Ele talked low about random things, sites they passed, movies they liked, places they’d been. The chatter had a first-date quality to it, but the touches between them were intimate and familiar. His hands had a mind of their own, lingering on her skin, twirling her ponytail, massaging her neck. She responded to each caress, melting under his ministrations. Each reaction was a brick of trust between them, building something breathtaking. By the time they reached their destination, Ele was practically in his lap, all the barriers of propriety hacked away.
