She pressed her eyes closed. “It did,” she said. “I think.”
“But only tonight.” His tone was cold with realization.
She hesitated. “Not forever.”
“Interesting,” he said under his breath, and pulled his hand out of hers.
She balled her fingers and kept walking. This was how it had to be. She wasn’t being melodramatic or unreasonable. The lives of the royal family were upheld by strict codes of conduct, and the rigid set of rules brokered no deviation—or deviants.
They approached the top end of the avenue where it adjoined the tree-lined royal parade. The palace gates were closed a block to the left, guards stationed on either side.
Kris stopped just short of the deserted intersection and looked over his shoulder at the approaching security car. “I want to talk to my guards.”
She frowned, turning back to him.
“Alone,” he added.
Taken aback, she waited until the car drew level and Kris motioned for the driver to wind down the window. Then she said, “I’ll go ahead.”
She couldn’t read the look he shot her in answer.
Striding across the empty intersection and onto the sidewalk that bordered the palace grounds, she glanced back, but the car was out of view behind the street corner. She clenched her teeth against the wound she’d torn open for him. Vulnerability ran from it like blood. She’d shown him everything. Her pain, shame, and struggle, and he still didn’t get it.
She needed him to seal her closed. All he had to do was say that he understood—that he agreed. Yes, she would bring disgrace and scandal to the royal family, and heartbreaking as it was, she had no place by his side.
But he wouldn’t say it. He wasn’t even close to thinking it.
He was a prince who hadn’t grown up in a monarchy. His parents clearly hadn’t instilled in him the ideal of a royal ruler—a personification of their nation. The people needed to see the best parts of Kiraly reflected in their king. The goodness. Strength. Integrity.
Not the rabble.
The entrance gates were just up ahead. She clenched her teeth tighter. She’d request the gate opened, follow the car up the stately drive and ask the guards to escort Kris to his suite. Then she could—
“Hello, Frankie.”
The voice came from behind her.
It crushed her windpipe. Turned her belly to liquid.
Breathless, she spun to where her father stood several feet away. His expression was as cunning as his silent approach, and she cursed herself for not scanning the street trees. Instinct told her to run, as it always had, but fear had a sick habit of jamming that impulse.
Frozen in place, she could do nothing more than stare at him.
“She’s new.” He gestured at her dress, her assumed class, her persona. “I didn’t recognize you. Quite convincing.”
Her pulse leapt with old fright as he shifted closer. Her rage was too slow to wake.
“I might not have noticed you at all, but your charming man kept staring at me.” His smile pushed shards of reaction under her skin—alarm, dread—deep into her bones. “And he can’t keep a secret off his face to save himself.”
She hid her dismay.
They both turned at the crunch of tires on cobblestones. The security car was passing them on its way to the front palace gates, and through the open window, the guard gave Frankie a nod and a murmured, “Ma’am.”
She jerked her head in a return nod as her stomach bottomed out.
Kris wasn’t in the backseat.
Her father waited until the car was nothing but fading red taillights along the stately driveway. Then he stepped closer. “Tell me the plan.”
“What plan?” The first words she’d spoken to him in ten years. “I work for the guard.”
“So I’ve discovered.” His smile was biting, and it ripped the top off her anger.
How dare he show his face here?
“Not just with the royal guard, but as head of personal security. I knew you were good, but this? And to think I doubted you.”
His implication curdled her blood—as did the fact that across the street and just around the corner, Kris was almost definitely listening.
“This isn’t a plan.” Her throat was tight. “I haven’t done that since you flesh-peddled me, you twisted prick. This is my job.”
“Your job.” His eyes gleamed. “Positioned high enough to slide your way into the heart of a prince. Ingenious. I didn’t think you had the patience for such a long game.”
Disgust rooted her to the spot as her lip curled.
“He’s completely enamored with you. And desperate. Hell, he was practically rutting the table leg back there.” His laugh was low and vicious. “I don’t know how you’ve held out this long, but using yourself like a carrot on a string is clever. My commendations.”
“I’m not being clever.” Her words came out hoarse with fury.
He smirked.
“I’m being professional.”
“As you’ve ever been, Frankie.” He glanced up at the palace, glowing in all its majesty. “I hadn’t realized you’d set your sights on building a career out of a single con. What a grand plan. Who better to know the lies and secrets of the royal family than head of security? That kind of information is a one-way ticket to unlimited power. And on the arm of your prince? You’ll have it all.”
He took in a long breath, lungs swelling in pride as he looked back at her.
“No doubt you’ve got it all worked out,” he continued, inching closer. “Does he believe you’re saving yourself until marriage? The wedding must be around the corner. I doubt he could hold out much longer. Then you’ll have access to the royal account. The vaults. And if something went missing occasionally, who could possibly question you when you have their dirty laundry in a basket ready to go?”
“I’m not—” Confused, she bit down on her outrage. This didn’t make sense. He couldn’t honestly believe she’d planned all this. She’d run away from him. Tonight, she’d turned her back on him, desperate not to be seen. How could he possibly believe she’d—
Oh.
The conniving bastard.
He knew they weren’t alone. He knew Kris was waiting around the corner and overhearing every word. Her father wasn’t congratulating her on her skills or exquisite scheme. He was speaking to discredit her and get her booted from the position she’d worked so hard to achieve—to tear her from the heart of a good man.
He was shoving her into the dirt, his heel digging firmly into her back, because she’d had the nerve to run away from him.
“Fuck you,” she said, voice shaking.
His brows shot up. “Watch that mouth, girl. What did I tell you about playing with powerful men? They don’t like eating out of the gutter.”
Shame burned her throat at how she’d once followed that advice. She’d once spoken as if her words were fresh as spring water—and the Burberry boy had practically licked her mouth clean. Then her shame became horror at the light scuff that came from behind them.
Kris had come out of hiding.
Her dad’s look of surprise was masterful.
“Frankie?” Kris spoke her name quietly.
Chest tight, limbs shaking, she angled her face back at him.