Tristan…
The fist came at me with startling speed.
I was sluggish, slow. I'd had too many other things on my mind lately.
"Your Highness, you have to pay attention if we're going to do this."
I needed to get my fucking head in the game. Another round of fists, elbows, two knees. My blocks were faster this time, and my brain started to engage.
If I didn't block Frank, he was going to pop me in the face. And that was going to be a bitch to explain tonight on the red carpet. Frank Talbott had been on my personal guard detail since I was sixteen. I used to have two more guards, but now it was just Frank.
"Well," I muttered. Jab. Jab. Right cross. "If you weren't trying to maim me…" Knee, twist, block. Front kick. "Then maybe I could have a moment to breathe." Knee, knee, elbow.
Frank crumpled for a moment and then peered up at me. "Oh so, Your Highness thinks you can take care of yourself, do you?"
I growled at him. "I didn't say that. I'm just saying this is a bit of aggressive training."
"Didn't you ask for this?" He was on his feet again, lightning fast, bounding up as if that momentary respite was all he needed to dole out more beatings.
My brain clicked into that numb, automatic space. I knew how to deflect the blows. I knew how to block. I knew how to go on the offensive. I finally let myself engage, shut everything else out, and delivered.
I landed a jab to his face, the satisfying crunch pushing me on, driving me.
Frank was blocking at lightning speed. Missed block. Gut punch.
He oomphed. I delivered a front kick, then I was on him, twisting his arm in my grasp, and pinning it behind him with my knee in his lower back. "Say Uncle."
My voice didn't even sound like mine. It was cold, detached.
He gave two taps on the hardwood floor, and then he chuckled. "Well, I guess all I have to do is goad you into paying attention."
"I was paying attention. It was just taking me a second to get my head in the game."
He hopped to his feet and grabbed the face towels, tossing mine at me. "Are you burning the candle at both ends again?"
I rolled my eyes. Frank might have only been five years older than me, but he acted like a pensioning, agony aunt, always trying to feed me tea, make me eat, and get me to sleep 8 hours a night.
Granted, that was his job. But still... It was odd having someone try to mother me. Especially since my own mother had been cold and distant at the best of times.
"Sorry, my mind was just elsewhere today."
He shook his head. "Your Highness, not to nag..."
I sighed. "Then don't nag. I beg you."
He pinned me with a glare. "Well, if I don't nag no one is going to. When we train, you need to be on. I'm the only guard you have."
I winced at that reminder. There'd been a shooting at the Vienna Opera House during a charity event a few weeks ago. I had felt the ghost whistle of the bullet as it whizzed by my ear. Yet still, the Regents Council didn't see fit to provide me any more guards. And I knew exactly who on the council was blocking my return. He wasn't the only one, but if everything went my way, there'd be nothing keeping me from going home soon. Or at least my plans would already be in place and it wouldn't matter what happened to me after that.
My cousin, King Sebastian, had been working with me to find alternatives, but the rules were clear, and since my uncle's death, they were being enforced. As a member of the royal family, I couldn't be guarded by civilians.
And given that my family was currently out of favor, however deserving, I was a sitting duck. My parents had one guard each. My sister, the same. All because my brother, asshole extraordinaire, had committed treason. We weren't necessarily in exile, but we weren't particularly welcome at home in the Winston Isles either.
I just needed this deal to go through. Then everything would change.
"No, I know you're right. I'm sorry."
He studied me. "How late were you up last night? I went to bed at one and I know you were still up then."
I made it a point to school my expression. I'd been working on my plans to go home and the plans for beyond that day, but I couldn't tell Frank that.
"Yeah, I was up a little late. You worry too much."
Ella, my fiancée, came out of her bedroom, all beautiful blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her robe tied at the waist and a disapproving frown on her face. "Tristan, you're not ready?"
I sighed. "We don't have to leave for another three hours."
She blinked at me as if I had spoken Greek.
"You have to get ready, so stop playing Mortal Combat or whatever."
I laughed. "Mortal Combat? Please, you're going to have to update your references. Is that all you know about martial arts sparring?"
She shrugged. "Yeah. I don't really like action or violence."
The word violence was spoken softly enough to keep me from teasing her too much. "How in the world have you gone through life and not watched a proper Bruce Lee movie?"
She shrugged. "Too violent."
I sighed. "Right. Okay. We have plenty of time. Remember, all I have to do is shower, throw on some aftershave, and toss on a tux."
"Fine, don't listen to me. It's a lot better if we arrive early and show our faces. Then if we duck out, no one will notice."
She had a point there. But still, the idea of going extremely early to an event just to get as many paparazzi photos as possible was exhausting.
Frank inclined his head. "That's my cue to shower too."
I shook my head. "Way to leave me during a time of true strife."
He chuckled as he ran to his room. Once his door closed, Ella lifted a brow. "How is it going?"
I gave her a brief nod. "It's fine."
"He seems concerned about you."
"I'm fine. Just tired." No way was I telling her what was clouding my reflexes. We might not have a traditional relationship, but she'd certainly worry.
She studied me closely. Her gray eyes tracking every inch of my face. She was quintessentially beautiful and had an ethereal quality about her. From the moment I met her, I knew she was someone that needed my protection. But there was something else in her eyes now, something that I deftly ignored.
I knew just how bad an idea it was. We'd already gone down that road once, and it had been a disaster. Granted, that was what happened when you made love to one woman and called out another's name.
Not my finest moment.
So now, I pretended I didn't see her interest. It was the kindest thing I could do. We needed each other, and pretending we could be more than partners would only hurt her in the end.
"Are we still going to pretend that someone didn't shoot at us a few weeks ago? And that we might have poked the bear with what we've been doing?"
I shook my head. "Nope. But I have things under control, okay?"
She shifted on her feet. "Listen, Tristan, I've been thinking that maybe..." Her voice trailed off.
Shit. I knew that face. She was getting cold feet. "Ella, you can't back out of this now. We both agreed. Strangers on the train."
She swallowed hard. "I know. I just—the way you're training and the fact that somebody already shot at us indicates he's clearly onto us. Maybe I should just go back to him. This all stops if I go back."
I took her hands. "Look at me. Take a breath. We have no definitive proof that Vienna had anything to do with Max."
"What else could it have to do with? When we got engaged, he swore that he was going to make us pay, and what if this is it? He's trying to kill us."
She was scared, and she had a right to be. Her former manager was a psychopath. One that everyone in the entertainment industry loved. He was a star maker. He also terrorized his starlets. Everyone was too afraid to go against him, to expose him.
"When we met and I saw what he'd done to you, I told you I'd protect you, right? And haven't I?"
Her bottom lip quivered, and I prayed to God she didn't start with the water works. I had no idea how to deal with the overflow of emotions. At least not in some way that didn't ultimately hurt her.
"When we made this deal, I didn't think you would be doing something dangerous that could get you hurt. Jesus, someone tried to kill us already. I know you think it's not him, but—"
"It's not. He's a coward. That was too public."
"You don't know him like I do. He's dangerous. He already ruined my life. I don't want him ruining yours too."
"You need to have more faith. I won't be the one hurt. And I'm training so everything will go seamlessly. The other stuff with Frank is basic anti—kidnapping stuff. I don't have enough guards. I need to keep my training honed. I promise I'm going to be fine." I placed my hands delicately on both of her cheeks. It was rare that I touched her. I didn't want to give any mixed signals.
Like that one time.
"Ella, I made you a promise three years ago, okay? I'd protect you from Max and build you enough cachet so that you can have a career outside of him. And then I promised he would never hurt you again. Do you remember that day?" I'd been furious when I'd walked in to her flat and found her bleeding. When she'd told me her manager had hit her, I'd lost my shit.
She nodded. "Yeah, I remember."
"Do you believe I'll keep my word?"
She blinked rapidly. "Of course, but I don't know why you would even want to."
"Because it's the right thing to do. That guy is a fucking bully. The things he did to you… he's going to pay for all of it."
"You're probably the best friend I've ever had in my life. How sad is that?"
"Well, I'm your fiancée. I should be your best friend." I released her and stepped back.
"Tristan, do you ever think that maybe we should, you know... stop this?"
I stared at her for a moment. "What do you mean stop?"
"I just—you're doing so much for me. And I know this is the plan. This has always been the plan, but I'm worried. I don't want something to happen to you. Not to mention your whole plan to go home. You've said yourself there are barriers."
I shook my head. "Not insurmountable ones."
"Oh really? So your psychotic brother and the Council member who vowed you would never come home are not insurmountable problems to you?"
Way to hit below the belt. The problem was when you were in the trenches with someone, it was difficult not to tell them your secrets. Ella and I had been through it. And she knew things about me I'd rather no one knew."
"Look, Gilroy's claim is false. He can't stop me from coming home. Not if I'm the returned national treasure." Which I would be if my current negotiation went well. "And you let me worry about my brother."
My psychopath of a big brother was in prison for crimes against the throne. That didn't stop him from sending me texts to remind me of the secrets he'd spill if I even dreamt about going home.
"I just worry that you're not taking this seriously enough. I don't want something to happen to you."
"Nothing is going to happen to me." And then it occurred to me that maybe she wanted to back out of her end of the agreement. "And listen, no matter what you choose to do, I will take care of Max. You will never have to worry about him again."
A frown marred her beautiful face. "What, you think I don't have the balls to take care of your brother?"
"That's not what I'm saying, Ella. You have the balls. But maybe this is too much. I never should have asked—"
She tilted her chin up. "We had a deal. You help me with Max, I help you with your brother. What you're planning on doing is the kind of thing that will get you hurt, or arrested, or something. All I need to do is get your brother's information. I think I have the easier end of the deal."
"Why don't you let me worry about that?" I'd agreed to help her with her twat of an ex manager long before I found out that her family had founded Banks Safes. Her great grandfather had been a bank robber. His son had wanted to restore the family name and built uncrackable safes.
Beautiful and ethereal though she may be, Ella had the magic touch. And it just so happened I had a safe I needed cracked.
She sighed. "One day, Tristan, you'll realize that relationships go both ways. It's a give and take. It's not you just riding in on your shining white horse being the hero."
"Well, today is not that day."
Once I was in my room, I leaned against the door. She had a fucking point. I was playing with fire. If Max was behind Vienna, it meant he was onto us, which meant he'd be on high alert and executing the plan I had for him was going to be next to impossible.
But I wanted to see it through. I had made her a promise to keep her safe and keep her secrets. And I was so close to making that happen, making sure that she'd be able to walk back into the world and never have to worry about Max ever again. When that was over, then I'd stop.
Then maybe you'll think about a life?
I winced as I marched into the shower and turned it to cold. Maybe I was thinking of home too much. I knew full well I couldn't go back to that time of my life.
Are you sure? Because you're still fucking in love with her.
Ariel fucking Scott. Going home, there'd be a risk I'd see her. But I needed to steer clear. I need to let her go, because if she entered into this equation, I was going to lose all my focus and ruin every plan I'd made in the last three years. Not to mention I'd promised Ella I'd keep her secrets. There was no way I could have Ariel and not betray Ella.
Later that night, next to me, Ella preened for the cameras. She was a natural performer.
Three years ago, when my agent suggested that I needed to increase my profile to cash in on endorsements and income, I had agreed. But this, our relationship, had morphed into something different.
I cared about her, but these days it was getting harder to pretend.
With every flash from the cameras, I felt like I was being stabbed with the white—hot metal of a sword, and I had to force the smile to remain in place.
But it had been worse since Vienna a few weeks ago. I was hyper—aware of the crowd size and increasingly conscious of just how small my guard 'team' of one was.
Is that why you declined the King's assistance? Admittedly, maybe that wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done. I knew Sebastian wanted to help. But I had my own pokers in the fire, and I didn't want interference. If everything went according to plan, I'd be home sooner rather than later. And I wouldn't need as much guard presence.
I just had to make it through this stuff. When Ella felt me being distant or not present, she'd lean into me and place a kiss on my cheek and gaze up at me adoringly.
The press ate that shit up. It always sent them into a fervor and frenzy of more flash bulbs and questions. "Ella, Tristan. When will you two get married?" "Over here, Tristan. Will you be taking Ella home to the Winston Isles?"
When we were finally at the end of our death march, Ella squeezed my hand. "Are you okay? You seem out of it."
"I'm fine."
"Nope, this whole thing works when we both make each other look good. When you're distant, or not in the moment, people start to ask questions. They will start to ask me questions."
I knew we were still being watched, and so I leaned forward and gave her what might seem a sweet kiss on the cheek. "I'm in this. We are tied together."
"Perfect. Then smile for the cameras."
So I did. And everything appeared exactly as it should.
Once we were inside, my shoulders relaxed. At least in there, we wouldn't be as tightly scrutinized. I led her into the ballroom and to our table and prepared myself for a long night.
I kept checking my phone. While I might be exiled, I still had friends back home, friends who would sometimes send me a photo or a snippet from a newspaper.
You're a masochist.
I was.
Just because I had a completely different life now didn't mean I didn't love her. That she didn't command half my dreams.
You have no idea what love is.
Maybe that was true.
And I honestly thought it was better for Ariel that I wasn't there. But after all the headlines from earlier this year, her dismissal, her leaving the Royal Guard, the big old scandal, now we were both collateral damage.
Granted, I could understand why the Council more officially sanctioned this exile for me. My brother was a traitor, and it seemed that my mother—well, she came from a long line of traitors.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Ariel wasn't my concern anymore. It was fine. I could make our plan work. Pretend a little bit longer.
With all the negative publicity about the fallen prince, my endorsements had dried up. I had a contract negotiation, and it had been a bad time. My agents came up with a perfect solution. Find someone who could soften my image. Far from home, most people didn't even remember I was a prince until something bad happened, but they said I needed someone who was sweet and beyond reproach. Someone who could bring up my profile but at the same time needed me just as much as I needed her. And athletes and starlets together were money.
Enter Ella. She was beautiful and, most people said, talented. At the time, I'd never seen one of her movies. Her manager had wanted her in a showmance to increase her profile. Power couples in Hollywood were a thing.
But he hadn't anticipated how much the public would love our supposed fairy—tale romance. His jealousy got the better of him, and he demanded we stop. His request had been violent. I'd found her beaten and bloody.
I promised from that moment to always protect her, and we'd kept up the charade for three years.
The plan was for everyone and their mother to photograph us looking lovey—dovey and doing charity benefits. It was a fairy tale. People loved it. Thanks to the arrangement, I picked up four more endorsement deals. Contract negotiations had gone great. As for Ella, she had been cast in three movies despite her manager's attempts to blackball her.
After the benefit, we were ushered out the back to a side exit that no one else was going to use, and Frank was waiting for us there. "Your Highness. This way."
I paused at the door to wait for Ella, and I could see our limo waiting for us, as it should be.
When Frank opened the door for us, it was slow motion chaos. All I heard was an oomph and a gasp. In those frozen seconds, I watched Frank go down, and then there was blood everywhere.
He'd always been on me to train, to tap into everything I'd learned. And luckily, those years of training kicked in. The years of telling my body what to do and having it obey.
I hit the floor, dragging Ella with me and crawling back inside the door. When I shut it, the heavy metal clicking into place, I crawled over to Frank. "Frank, talk to me, man. Talk to me. Ella, hand me your shawl."
She sat there frozen.
I raised my voice. "Ella." Then she blinked into alertness, watching me. "Oh my God, someone shot him."
"Yes. Shawl, now."
She handed it over and I pressed it to his shoulder. "Hey mate, look at me. You're going to be fine."
He nodded and swallowed. "Your Highness, it's been a pleasure."
"Stop with that nonsense. You're not going anywhere."
I pulled out my phone and hit the emergency call button. "Ella, look at me. I need you to go back toward the benefit, call for help. Use one of the red phones. Hurry."
I applied pressure like I knew what to do.
I could have counted Vienna as an isolated incident. But I couldn't ignore this. And now Max had taken out the only bodyguard I had.
I was a sitting fucking duck. By hook or by crook, I was going to stop him. The only way he was getting to Ella was over my dead body.
In the blur of activity with the paramedics, I was shoved back. I could only watch in dismay as they tried to help Frank. I looked up, but my vision was hazy. I was too raw, too tired.
In full crisis mode, I didn't even think as I pulled out the phone. I dialed the one number I hadn't allowed myself to call in ten years.
