Chapter One
In the glorious days of the Renaissance, ink on your fingers marked you as a thinker, a dreamer, an artist. But in modern day Manhattan? It just made Kelsey Wishner feel like a criminal.
“Shouldn’t this stuff be gone by now? I got fingerprinted almost two days ago,” she said, scrubbing her hand against her black yoga pants. A.k.a. her lounge-work-everything pants. Because one of the best perks of working from home was never having to dress up.
Unlike her more practical sister Mallory, who’d gotten her stilettos stuck in grates and broken them off three times in the three days they’d lived here. At this rate, she’d be shoeless before Memorial Day.
Mallory rolled her eyes. “It’s your own fault, hashtag overachiever.”
True. Safety-first NYC fingerprinted its teachers, and Kelsey had insisted on applying for that second job teaching part-time.
“Manhattan’s expensive,” she shot back. Moving to the Empire State wasn’t scary. Affording it was. As Mallory well knew, since she ran their budget. “Our meal plan is currently ramen noodles, oatmeal, and bananas until we nail down how much taxis and the subway will cost per month. I refuse to let us be those sad-sack transplants that New York chews up and spits out in a matter of months.”
“Yeah our budget is tight, but you need to wear the fact that we’re here like a badge of honor.” Mallory grabbed her hand and raised it triumphantly. “We finally made it. We’re official residents of the most exciting city in the world. Just think—we can now get anything and everything delivered to our door, twenty-four-seven.”
That was definitely a perk. Kelsey tapped the stack of flyers already accumulating on the kitchen counter. “Let’s order a pizza at three a.m.”
Mallory laughed, her auburn ponytail bobbing. “I said wear this like a badge of honor, not go crazy. I’m not going to be awake then, let alone hungry.”
Practicality was so not the order of the day. “Call it an early breakfast. You love cold pizza. We’ll set our alarms. It’ll be fun. A pinching-ourselves, made-it-to-Manhattan moment.”
“Didn’t we take the ferry out to the Statue of Liberty today for that?”
Kelsey sniffed. “It’s a big city. We deserve more than one moment.”
“Didn’t we have another moment yesterday when you got me up pre-dawn to be at Rockefeller Center for the Today show?”
Her hands tightened on the next plate, popping a whole bunch of rows on the bubble wrap. Okay. They’d been cleaning and unpacking for hours. It was clear her sister needed a break. Kelsey ought to give Mallory a pass.
She didn’t want to wait, though. She didn’t want to miss a moment of watching the excitement unfold around her. Half the fun of a 3 a.m. pizza would be looking out the window to see who else was up, what sort of activity was out on the street.
Luckily, a knock on the door prevented—or at least postponed—Kelsey’s argument. “I’ll get it.”
“Leave the chain on,” Mallory said.
Fair enough. They’d lived in a tiny Michigan college town their whole lives. Their street sense hadn’t kicked in yet, let alone been honed. Caution was good.
Boring…but good.
Standing behind the door, Kelsey angled her neck to peer through the two-inch crack afforded by the chain, and promptly threw caution to the wind. In fact, she couldn’t slam the door fast enough, undo the chain, and wildly beckon to Mallory as she swung it back open.
Because in the hallway was a cluster of hot men. Two of NYPD’s uniformed finest, biceps bulging against the short sleeves. Behind them were three taller, even hotter men in suits.
Dating wasn’t on their New York adventure to-do list for at least a month. Mostly because Kelsey didn’t want to be labeled as a naïve rube. Or worse, a tourist. She wanted to meet Manhattan men on a level playing field, once she knew the subway lines backward and forward and didn’t jump every time a taxi honked.
She was, however, willing to re-prioritize the to-do list.
“Hello.”
“Ma’am.” The adorable shorter cop tapped the brim of his hat. “Are you Kelsey Wishner?”
“I feel like I should ask why before answering.”
The tallest suited man, one with piercing blue eyes, elbowed the cops aside. He opened an ID holder to flash…something at her. Something with his picture and a fancy golden crest. “I’m Elias Trebanti. I’m here on a mission for the royal family of Moncriano. These police officers can vouch that they’ve verified my diplomatic credentials. May I speak with you? Inside?”
Kelsey looked at Mallory. They raised opposite, questioning eyebrows at each other. Then she went on tiptoe to peer down the hall. Nope. No cameras. That ruled out a reality TV prank show. This was weird, but also kind of exciting. In a semi-scary way.
After a brief nod from the cops, she stepped back and waved them inside. Only Elias entered. Elias of the close-cropped dark hair, knife-edged cheekbones, and muscles that the tailored suit somehow did not hide at all. He shut the door, glancing around the small living room packed with too much furniture their parents had insisted on sending along. Two steps had him at the kitchen, and another five sent him down the hallway to their bedrooms.
Mallory rushed after him. “Hey. You need a separate invite to go that far. Get back out here.”
“My apologies.” His heels all but clicked together as he executed a military-sharp turn. “I had to make sure that nobody else is present.”
“You could’ve asked,” Mallory snapped with a miffed puff of air that fluffed her bangs. Now the stranger was in trouble. Snitty Mallory was no fun whatsoever. Even diplomatic credentials wouldn’t protect him from her wrath.
“That wouldn’t have proved anything.” Softening infinitesimally, Elias put his hand over his heart and gave a micro-bow. Maybe that translated to an apology in his country? “In my business, you can never be too careful.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “What business is that?” Kelsey asked. She noticed he was still casing the apartment. His eyes practically drew a connect-the-dots line from each window, to each door, along the top of each framed photo, to the cluster of phones and laptops on the oval coffee table.
“I’m in the Royal Protection Service.”
Kelsey couldn’t help but laugh. “Then I’m quite sure you’ve got the wrong apartment. There’s nothing for you to protect here.”
Those blue eyes snapped right to her, and her laughter died in her throat. Was it possible to feel a zing just from an eye lock? “On the contrary. I’m here for you.” Unexpectedly, because he’d been all business and stiff thus far, Elias roughly scrubbed a big hand across his face. “This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out.”