“I can’t believe you’re defending him after all you went through,” I grumbled unhappily.
Harlow shrugged. “If I’m going to believe that all this was just a fluke incident, I can hardly blame Nick. I’ve spoken to him enough to know that he really does want to change things in Lania. He grew up and went to college in England, and he truly believes that Lania should be a democracy. He’d love to see things change until the royal family of Lania functions much like it does in England. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen overnight since Lania has been ruled by the royal family for centuries.”
Jesus Christ! Harlow had obviously been totally brainwashed by that royal prick.
I ground my teeth, trying to stay calm. “How do you know that everything he’s telling you isn’t all a lie? What if he wanted to stir up trouble so he could look like a hero when all of the guerillas were captured? He’s a new ruler, and his ideas to modernize Lania haven’t been all that popular with the people. Now, the country idolizes him because they think he’s a damn genius for simply arresting and imprisoning the rebels after we found them, and pulled our final living hostage out ourselves.”
Harlow shot me an annoyed look. “Nick would never do something like that just to get the approval of the population.”
“Dictators do horrific things all the time for just that reason,” I reminded her. “We both know that.”
She sighed. “I suppose. But I trust Nick. We video chat, and I’ve never seen a single sign that he’s being deceptive. He has such warm and sympathetic eyes. Maybe that sounds naïve, but it’s my gut instinct.”
Hell, I couldn’t really argue that gut instinct meant nothing. Mine had saved my ass enough times out in the field that I couldn’t discount it. “Just be careful,” I warned her. “Murderers can be extremely charming until they pull out a gun and start shooting.”
“I understand that,” she agreed, sounding frustrated. “But I’m not turning my back on Nick. He’s been extremely supportive since the whole thing happened, and I don’t think it’s an act. At times, he’s been the only person I could talk to because I can’t really share much of this with my friends. Or my mother, either, for that matter. I’m too afraid I’ll accidentally expose Last Hope.”
At that moment, I pretty much hated myself for not being there when Harlow had needed to talk.
Yeah, I could be a dick sometimes, but I would have been a better confidant than…Prince Nick.
More than likely, all Nick really wanted was to seduce Harlow when he visited the US.
Hell, what red-blooded male wouldn’t want that?
Even though I knew she was vulnerable, I sure as hell couldn’t make myself stop thinking about getting Harlow naked. And fuck knew I’d tried. Hard.
The majority of the time, I’d kept my mind out of the gutter because her mental and physical wellbeing meant more to me than a fuck. Nevertheless, my brain did go there sometimes. I wasn’t a damn saint, and I couldn’t always control how my dick reacted whenever she was around. I just chose to ignore that reaction…most of the time.
Shit! Maybe I was overreacting to the fact that Harlow chose to have a relationship with the ruler of the country that had nearly killed her. It wasn’t my right to tell her who she could and couldn’t decide to call a friend.
I just fucking hated the idea of her getting too close to that bastard.
Prince Niklaos was way too nauseatingly charming, educated, young, and while I hated to admit it, the guy would probably be considered attractive by most women.
I ignored the small hint of possessiveness that had been eating at me since Harlow had mentioned that she was in contact with Prince Nick. It was natural for me to be protective, right? I was her advisor, her employer, and her…friend.
“What about Marshall?” I asked. “He’s been in touch since the beginning.”
Harlow swallowed a sip of her wine before she replied, “I adore Marshall, and he’s been one of the few constants in my life since this happened. But he acts like my father most of the time. And I think that you’ve worked with him long enough to know he isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. There are lines he doesn’t cross, and things he doesn’t talk about.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I agreed. “I think he was a SEAL team leader for too long. He throws out a command, and expects everyone to fall in line without question. He’s a damn good man, and one I’m always glad is covering my ass, but he’s not an easy person to have a personal conversation with most of the time.”
“But his heart is always in the right place,” Harlow mused.
“Agreed,” I told her. “But you have me now. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
If Harlow was going to spill her guts, I’d prefer she did it with me instead of Prince Nick.
She nodded slowly as a ghost of a smile formed on her lips. “Almost anything. It’s not like we’re lifelong friends, and a woman has to have some secrets.”
Fuck that! I was going to get Harlow to trust me enough to tell me anything. I had no damn idea why that was really necessary, but it was going to happen.
Doing my duty as her advisor, and then going our separate ways just wasn’t going to cut it for me anymore.
I was getting addicted to Harlow’s presence, and I was going to make damn sure this friendship didn’t end after the four weeks we’d agreed upon.
In my mind, because we hadn’t made a deal on anything after that four weeks, it was open for negotiation.
Honestly, I hoped that after four weeks, she’d hang out with me because she wanted to, not because she had to do it as part of some agreement.
Harlow yawned before she said, “I guess I should have skipped the wine tonight.”
I scrutinized her face as I asked, “Did you sleep okay last night?”
She shot me a genuine smile, and my dick was instantly hard.
Harlow was slowly improving, and I didn’t take a single one of those smiles for granted since it had rarely happened in the beginning.
“I told you that I’m sleeping just fine,” she assured me. “I think the wine just made me a little tired because I ate an early lunch. I probably just need to go make something for dinner.”
“If you’re hungry, I can just order out,” I told her.
“Absolutely not,” she insisted. “I’m making dinner, and I doubt I’ll fade away from hunger before it’s done.”
“I should have ordered earlier,” I grumbled. “I’d prefer that you never have to go hungry again.”