Protecting the Prince

by Dana Volney

  She rubbed her temples as Louis, normally a man who used few words, kept going. He was in commanding officer lecture mode, and there was no stopping him in this condition.

  There was a basket wrapped with see-through red paper stuck in the corner on Eliam’s counter. She cut the bow and opened it. Man, this grocery delivery service is cool. She was really going to have to look into this company. Well, she had a whole slew of other issues to solve, such as having a kitchen, before she was able to hire a service to bring her groceries.

  There were fruit, oranges, apples, and bananas, and then some sweet treats—cookies, muffins, and chocolate truffles that looked to be homemade. Rich people—they could afford the damnedest services.

  She set the cookies out on a plate, put the fruit in a bowl on the counter that had one lone orange left, and set the muffins and truffles in the corner where the basket had been.

  Dinner was ready before she knew it and she went to check on Eliam.

  “Yes, we are going ahead with that deal.” His voice carried as she neared his cracked office door.

  She peeked in. He was facing a large screen that streamed the video conference.

  “Are you sure that’s a wise idea?” somebody questioned from the Brady Bunch set of heads.

  “I am,” Eliam said. “It won’t hurt our profits and will give us another ally. Which we could use.”

  “Is there any other business?” a man in a white polo and argyle vest asked.

  “We need to release the statement to the press about Franklin’s death,” Ann piped up from the top left box on the screen.

  “Draft me a new copy,” Eliam replied without looking up from a piece of paper in his hand. “I’ll look at it first thing. Nix the background with my family.”

  “But, sir…”

  “Ann.” Eliam’s stern voice cut over hers. “Make it shorter.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  His mom. Winter had totally forgotten Eliam had lost his mom not long ago. After last night he was also down a stepfather. All of that must be hard on him.

  She could relate. Her mom had split when she was young; she barely remembered her and they were mostly memories her dad had instilled in her before he himself checked out. Some people weren’t meant to be parents. He’d tried hard, but the reality was she’d never felt a strong connection with him, and there was no doubt in her mind that her dad felt the same way.

  That’s why entering the army right out of high school had been such an easy decision for her. The comradery, skills, and training it offered appealed to her on every level—so did leaving Seattle for a new life.

  Well, some people had blood family members and some had people who became a family. Her team was the latter.

  “Thank you for meeting tonight on such short notice,” Eliam said to the screen, and she thought she saw a smile.

  She knocked gently on the door as the virtual people expressed their joy that he was, indeed, alive. She glanced quickly at the faces to see if any of them were lying. Nope, seemed they were all genuinely glad to have him back. Felix had texted her as much when she was making dinner. Nothing suspicious. Eddie was now checking out all employees and Eliam’s cousin as well as Franklin’s side of the family.

  Eliam hit the Power button and faces disappeared.

  “Good timing. Dinner is ready.” She stayed in the doorway.

  The edges of his mouth started to curve up and happy eyes met hers. Apparently getting back in the driver’s seat of his company put Eliam in a good mood.

  “Smells delicious.” He stood and dropped a folder on his desk.

  They’d showered in their respective bathrooms after Felix and Eddie had left. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been thinking about them in the shower together. This is exactly why you don’t screw a client, Wyn. She would have years to lecture herself and hopefully only days until she was out of this mess. After being naked with a client, it was really hard not to want that again, to look him in the eye without him witnessing the memories of mutual lust.

  “Good. The smell is the first part.” She swiveled on her heel and walked back to the kitchen.

  Past the kitchen to the right of Eliam’s bedroom door was a formal dining area, separate from the rest of the house. She was pretty proud of herself—she’d found nice red plates for the table.

  “How’d your conference call go?” She took a seat on the side of the table facing the door, leaving Eliam with his back to it.

  She’d thought about setting out the candlesticks she’d found in her hunt for a bowl for the green beans and potatoes. But that seemed a little too forward and more of a personal meal. This was definitely a work meal. Their one night of pleasure was over and wouldn’t be happening again.

  “I think they were a little skeptical at first that it was going to be me who was actually on the call.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the news was, and maybe still is, reporting I’m dead.”

  “Yeah. We should probably correct that.”

  “It’ll be in the press release with Franklin’s death statement tomorrow.”

  She nodded and put mashed potatoes on her plate before handing them to Eliam and switching him for the green beans.

  “Have you found out anything interesting?” he asked.

  “Nope. People don’t seem to be texting about offing you.” She winked at him and smiled.

  “Cute.”

  A little bit of sadness pushed its way into her throat. When this was all over, after she’d saved the day, she’d probably never see Eliam again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Great, you made dessert.” Eliam spied the cookies on the kitchen counter. “I have a sweet tooth.” He grinned and took a bite before Winter could tell him she didn’t make them.

  His face crinkled. “What did you put in this? Something doesn’t taste right.”

  Her gaze flitted to the cookies. She hadn’t tried one earlier, but they’d smelled good. “I think they are apple-oatmeal cookies. And I didn’t make them. Your grocery service did.”

  “They did?” He threw the cookie back on the counter and hurried to the sink and spat out what he hadn’t swallowed. “They only bring what I order, and a basket of any kind isn’t on my standard list.”

  “What?” Her voice rose and panic threatened to take over her limbs. She ran to him before that could happen.

  “My mouth.” He was grabbing at his throat and noticeably swelling lips. “I have a sesame allergy.”

  What does that mean? Did she need to call 911?

  His face reddened. “Epi-Pen.” His arm flailed toward his room.

  “In your bathroom?”

  “Top. Drawer,” he managed to croak out.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” She helped him sit on the ground and lean against the bottom kitchen cabinets.

  She hurried to his bathroom. Drawer, drawer, top drawer. She swallowed hard and tried to calm her breathing. Holy fuck. There were three top drawers in his long vanity. She opened the one nearest the sink and rifled through it quickly. What the hell does this shot look like? She’d never been in this situation before; she’d only seen it on TV and the movies. The first drawer contained shaving crap, so she opened the next, sticking her hands right in and messing them around in cotton swabs, hair gel, and cologne bottles. Being systematic probably would’ve been better, but Eliam was choking to death on his own tongue out there and she needed to find this blasted medicine. She threw open the third drawer, knocking it off of its tracks. She’d fix it later. There were Band-Aids, bottles of aspirin, and thank God, an orange and white shot-looking device. Grabbing it as she was almost out the door, she nearly slid on her socks rounding the corner out of Eliam’s bedroom.

  “I got it.” She waved it in the air. “Here.”

  She knelt beside him. Fumbled the cylinder. Eliam’s face was pale, his lips bigger than when she’d left him sixty seconds ago, and his palms sweaty. He pointed to his thigh. Oh God, she was goi
ng to have to give him this shot in his thigh. Over his jeans. She pushed it into the spot he pointed at and pressed down on the top. A small click rang out in the silent apartment and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Eliam winced. She held it there for a couple of seconds, making sure he received all the medicine.

  She cupped her free hand lightly on his cheek. Are you okay? She frantically searched his face for any signs of the swelling dissipating. His light brown eyes slowly closed.

  “Eliam.” She let the Epi-Pen roll onto the floor and put her other palm on his left cheek. “Eliam. Are you okay?”

  Terror welled and her throat burned. Don’t die. “Do I need to call 911?” What the hell was she doing? Of course she should call an ambulance. The man didn’t look any better.

  “No,” he whispered, and reaching his left hand up he connected with her forearm and moved his fingers up slowly until his palm was covering hers on his cheek. “I’m okay.”

  A brittle breath filled her lungs. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He’s fine. This job protecting Eliam was seriously pushing her to her limits.

  “Can you move? Do you want to lie on the couch?” Her free palm fell to his chest.

  His cheeks were starting to lose their redness. “Bed.”

  That made sense. She moved to her feet in a kneeling position and slung his right arm around the back of her neck. He braced himself with his other hand on the floor and they slowly stood.

  Eliam sighed, probably from residual pain, and she nearly laughed she was so happy that he was alive and standing. She’d take a bad guy over a medical emergency any day—she was more equipped for combat than a hospital. She kept his arm around her even though he could probably walk on his own. They rounded the right side of his king-sized bed covered in a red comforter and black pillows. That was the only side with an alarm clock and glass of water.

  He untangled himself from her and lay on the bed. Where did those fucking cookies come from? This was a tad bit awkward. She couldn’t just stand over him, watching to make sure he didn’t have a residual reaction. She should go check the basket and call down to get a copy of building security footage. There wasn’t a note or anything on the basket; she’d just assumed it was the grocery company.

  I’m sorry I didn’t catch the cookies. She ran her fingers through his thick hair.

  “I’ll be right back.” She turned to leave when he grabbed her arm.

  “Wait. Stay?”

  She stepped back toward him, and his hand grazed her arm until they were hand in hand. Lying there in his dark jeans, black socks, and a cerulean sweater—he wore his clothes, they didn’t wear him—he was still a little puffy and he looked weak, but he was gorgeous nonetheless. She knew his abs were hard under that blue sweater, that his skin was sensitive to her touch, and she knew how he smelled. Not just his cologne, which was spicy goodness, but his scent—the one unique to him when she kissed his neck, nuzzled his collarbone, and lay on his chest.

  He patted the space on the covers to the left of him. Don’t mind if I do.

  “How do you feel? Any other allergies I should know about?” She propped some pillows so she would be ready if something else happened.

  “Better. The swelling and itchiness is going down. It just takes a lot out of me. My mom had the same allergy.”

  Who else knew about your odd allergy? The question burned on her lips, but Eliam didn’t need the stress of once again hashing out who might be after him. She’d give him a break for a little bit. She’d text Felix later, letting him know what happened, and have Eddie review the building’s cameras. Whoever brought the basket in was long gone by now.

  “Tell me about your mom.” She laid her head back on a plush pillow and crossed her outstretched legs. “I mean, if it doesn’t hurt to talk.”

  “Raya Prince-Black.” He looked up at the textured ceiling tiles, painted in white, and a black wrought-iron chandelier. “She was beautiful. And strong.” He smiled and tilted his head to smile at her. “She was not to be trifled with.”

  “I like her already.”

  “You would’ve. You two probably could’ve shared stories for hours about how you got men to do what you wanted with a look.”

  “If you can say it with a look, why use words?” She chuckled and steepled her fingers on her belly.

  “It’s…weird she’s gone. I keep thinking she’ll call and ask what in the hell has happened the last couple of days.” His voice quieted and her heart broke.

  She could relate, but she didn’t know what to say. So she reached down, grabbed his hand, laced their fingers, and pulled his arm up a bit so she could lie back down.

  “Where does your family live?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand.

  “My dad is here. I don’t know about my mom.” Normally when she had to answer questions like these, her answer was that her mom was dead—the finality of the statement stopped further questions.

  “Are you close with your dad?”

  “Not exactly. Family is hard.” If she hadn’t gone into the army, she wasn’t sure she would’ve ever really understood what the word family really meant.

  “They can be the best and worst. I never gave Franklin a chance. I mean, the man was an ass. I can’t believe I feel bad he’s dead.”

  “You’re not a bad person. That’s why.”

  “Do you feel bad he’s dead?” He stopped rubbing his thumb over her skin.

  What kind of question is that? It wasn’t her fault Franklin had died. “I don’t really have an opinion on the matter. I never met the man.”

  “I suppose.” He used his free hand to adjust the pillows behind his back. “I wanted him to die these past couple of days—actually, for some time now. But now that he has…”

  “You had nothing to do with it. It’s not your fault. Who else knew you had a sesame allergy?”

  “Anyone who has eaten with me.” He chuckled. “Ann orders in for me a lot.”

  “I didn’t get a sinister vibe from her. Have you ever felt uneasy around her?”

  “No.”

  “Eddie checked her out and she was clean.” Her story checked out, too. By all accounts, Dustin East was not on to where Ann lived or worked, so he wasn’t a threat to anyone in Seattle.

  Ann was a looker, though—did Eliam think so, too? Not that his love life was any of Winter’s business. She and Eliam were back to a strictly professional relationship—one where they were lying in bed holding hands.

  “Ann was supposed to go on vacation this week. She has a ton of time built up. But I had to call her back in when all of this stuff with Franklin happened.”

  “That important, huh?” Quit prying and being jealous. You don’t want to be the man’s assistant.

  “She’s been with me since I came back to Seattle.”

  She grabbed her phone from her back pocket to text Felix.

  “Eliam had allergic reaction to cookies left in that red basket.”

  Instantly, the three dots that showed he was texting her back appeared.

  “Fuck :/ Tell him sorry. Thought it was a condolence basket the building had delivered.”

  She smiled—it was hilarious to see a big macho man like Felix use emoticons on a regular basis.

  “Did you meet the person who delivered it?”

  “No. On doorstep. We checked for bugs and bombs.”

  “Check Ann again. She knew.” She set her phone on the nightstand.

  “I always admired how my mom ran the company.”

  This time she rubbed her thumb gently on his wrist. “Did she like heading up the company?”

  “I think for the most part she enjoyed the work.”

  He had a far-off look in his eyes—he wasn’t trying to be in control, so he seemed more relaxed. His hard-line attitude had its appeal, but this side was attractive, too. It made her want to hug him, kiss him tenderly, and show him just how much his sincerity turned her on.

  He continued, “I think she would’ve rather I’d been able
to do it straightaway, though.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I was too young when my dad died and then the timing wasn’t ever right. Franklin took over and the rest is history.”

  They had so many things in common. Too bad the possibility of their being a couple was impossible, because he was Mr. Executive and that was the last way she wanted to live her life.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Eliam reached over and took a drink of water. His throat had cleared up. He touched his lips to confirm the swelling had gone down there, as well. What a mess.

  He couldn’t do anything about his past, or even what had happened an hour ago, so harping on it didn’t make a difference. He needed to live in the present and not take anything for granted. Who knew how much longer he had on this earth—whether someone was after him or not. There was no guaranteed amount of time.

  He scooted up on the bed so he was closer to Winter. He stretched his neck and lightly caressed her lips with his.

  He had never before experienced what this woman did to his senses. He was not wasting any more time not going after what he wanted, who he craved. He didn’t know the future. But he did know the present. Winter was the now and the tomorrow he wanted. They were connected, and he didn’t know how or when it happened, but it had.

  He slid his hand over her flat belly to her hips, pulling them closer to him. He wrapped his other hand around her hip and brought her down face-to-face with him.

  Her lips were soft and comforting, and he’d never been so turned on just by kisses before in his life.

  Winter rubbed the tip of her nose to his. “Eliam.”

  There was hesitation in her eyes. Please don’t say no. I need you. He was becoming addicted to her—her presence, her floral scent, and her take-no-prisoners attitude. There was no telling how much longer a threat would exist in his life, but he didn’t want Winter to leave when he was safe. He didn’t want her as his bodyguard—he desired her for so much more than that.

  He’d called a contractor in between business matters today. He’d have an estimate of the cost and time to rebuild her house by tomorrow. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her shoulder. If he had it his way, she’d stay with him and then they’d move into the rebuilt house together. They’d pick out the flooring, wall colors, and bedroom sizes. Together.