As for work…
Well, spying isn’t a safe or predictable career.
My team and superiors have been hyper-prepared for every operation, but still, bad things have happened.
I’ve seen fellow agents wounded in the line of duty, and I lost a boss early in my career. Sven and I weren’t close, but he’d been in the field for decades. Realizing even a seasoned operative who’d been undercover on and off for the better part of forty years could still get made, still pay the ultimate price, had been a sobering reminder that there are no guarantees in the life I’ve chosen.
It’s one of the reasons I haven’t been home to visit for more than a few days at a time in years. I enjoy spending time with my sisters, but it’s best if we keep a buffer between us. Best if Sabrina and Lizzy stay identical-twin-bonded in a way that’s deeper and stronger than the bond they share with me.
Should something happen, I know they’ll grieve, but they’ll recover more quickly if I remain the married-to-her-work, always-too-busy-to-spend-hours-on-the-phone triplet.
Which is fine.
I am married to my work. I am busy.
And I take comfort that I’m protecting my sisters. Perhaps, at times, it’s a lonely life. But it’s the right kind of life for me.
Though, clearly, Nick doesn’t see things the way I do. He still lives with his mother and brothers, still has dinner with them almost every night, still works a day job that’s intimately connected to his family. And when he associates with unsavory characters, he does it as himself, not undercover.
And yes, I understand that he’s internet-and-tabloid famous, with a face so recognizable it would be difficult to conceal his identity, but if I were in his shoes, I would still try.
Or I would quit the spying gig. No matter how careful he is, he’s still putting his family—and mine—at risk.
That’s bothered me ever since I found out Nick was a part of Union Ten, but somehow it seems even more unacceptably reckless tonight.
The baby, I realize as I pad down the hall to my guest suite in the east wing.
My sister is going to have a baby, an innocent child Nick will put in harm’s way.
The thought plagues me through my shower and follows me to bed, lingering in the darkness, whispering that I can’t sit by and let things continue as they have.
I have to do something about Nick.
Maybe I can convince him to quit. Though, that seems unlikely, considering he’s just been promoted and apparently believes he’s capable of keeping his loved ones safe while he jet-sets around the world, getting into fake trouble with real criminals.
So, what, then?
I could try to persuade him to do his work undercover. But even if I sway Nick, I doubt our superiors will embrace the change. Nick’s status and his access to the rich and famous are too useful to them, and they won’t give that up without a fight. And when the higher-ups fight, they win.
But if I compromised Nick in some way, made sure enough of the bad guys know what he’s really about, then he’ll no longer be useful as a field agent. He’ll be forced to say safely behind a desk for the rest of his career or give up spying altogether.
But compromising a fellow agent isn’t only immoral, it’s illegal.
Not to mention dangerous—for Nick and me, both, if we’re trapped on an island with a few dozen armed criminals at the time.
No, I can’t go there.
I’ll have to find another way.
Luckily, I do my best thinking under pressure. Something will come to me, I’m sure of it. By the time Nick and I board the plane home to Gallantia post-mission, I’ll have a plan to neutralize the threat he poses to my family.
Ignoring the soft voice in my head whispering, Or you could just talk through your concerns with him. He seems like a reasonable person, not to mention a nice one—I roll over onto my other side and will myself to sleep.
If I lay my cards on the table and Nick refuses to budge, I’ll have lost the element of surprise. He’ll be on guard, and I might never get what I need from him.
And that’s unacceptable. I haven’t spent the last decade holding my sisters at arm’s length so some shortsighted idiot can endanger their lives.
“Sorry, Nick,” I whisper.
But I’m not.
I’m not the least bit sorry, and if I see an opportunity to take him out of the spy game, I won’t hesitate to seize it.
Chapter Seven
Nickolas
Christmas Day passes in a warm, hot-chocolate-and-mulled-wine-flavored haze. We unwrap presents around the tree, enjoy a late breakfast together, and then scatter to the four winds to enjoy our day off as we see fit.
I watch a movie in the castle theater with Sabrina and Andrew, take afternoon tea with Lizzy and Jeffrey in the library—they’re the only people in the world who can make reading side by side look like an illicit sexual activity—and end my day walking with my mother under the nearly full moon through the freshly fallen snow.
“Are you sure you won’t stay a few more days before you go sun-hunting?” she asks, giving my arm a squeeze. “It’s been so nice having everyone here together.”
“Even Vivian and Charles?” I ask, arching a brow.
Zan’s parents aren’t bad people, per se, but they are decidedly odd and more than a little old-fashioned. My mother, the first in the royal family to obtain a divorce and a pediatric heart surgeon who eagerly passed the crown to my older brother after Grandfather’s death, is neither.
She smiles. “Yes, actually. They remind me of my mother and father—mildly annoyed with each other most of the time but keeping the love alive, regardless.”
I grunt. “Makes sense, I suppose. They’re closer to Grandfather’s age than yours. Though, I don’t know about the keeping love alive part. I don’t think I’ve seen them touch once since they arrived.”
“People love in different ways,” Mother says. “But I see it there. Charles always fetches a glass of water for each of them before he heads to bed, and Vivian keeps his sketchbook and watercolors in her purse so he’s ready to draw the moment inspiration strikes.”
“And that’s love?” I muse.
Seems fairly pedestrian, but what do I know? I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love, not the kind people write epic poetry about, anyway, and I’ve certainly never made love last for decades.
I’m lucky to make it six months before something goes hideously awry.
“It’s part of it,” she says. “A big part, I think. A hundred daily acts of thoughtfulness trump a big romantic gesture every time.” Mom tilts her head, gazing up at the moon as we turn back toward the castle. “So, keep that in mind, my darling. Chemistry is all well and good, but at the end of the day, you need a partner you can live with. And hopefully, one who will make that living easier and better than it is without them.”
“Wise words,” I say, before adding with a grin, “though I think I’ll take chemistry for now.”
She laughs. “Understandable. You’re young.” She squeezes my arm again. “But just so we’re clear, if you break Zan’s fragile little heart, I might disown you, at least for a month or two.”