“I shall endeavor to be invisible, Sire.”
Leopold ignored his friend and pushed the button for Skye’s floor. They rode in silence, with Jürgen stepping down the hall as Leopold headed for the door. “Aren’t you afraid there’s an assassin waiting to jump me in there?”
“Considering how Skye feels about you now, I wouldn’t be surprised.” He held up a hand as if in apology; Leopold knew that Jürgen and Skye had become friends two years ago. Hurting her hadn’t sat well with him. “I will wait here.”
“Thanks.” Leopold took a breath, then rang the bell. He heard the footsteps approaching, then the door opened and Skye stood there, her face alight with laughter.
“Sorry. I was just—something funny. It doesn’t matter.”
But it did, because it suited her. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was when she laughed. Until now, he’d yet to see pure joy on her face during this trip.
She ushered him in, then closed the door behind him, leaving Jürgen alone in the hall. Not that Leopold cared. He was just glad they had this moment alone.
“—and that’s when Larry said. Oh.”
The voice was as full of laughter as Skye’s expression—and was decidedly male.
So maybe they weren’t so alone after all.
“Um, sorry.” The man had golden hair and the kind of pecs that would put Jürgen’s to shame. Leopold knew that because the only thing the man was wearing was the navy blue towel wrapped around his hips.
“Sorry,” he said, looking at Skye. “I didn’t realize we had company.”
We.
“This is Leo,” Skye said. “He’s here to help me with my talk for the symposium. I told you, remember? Leo,” she continued, her attention turning to him, “this is Bart. My … boyfriend.”
The word hit Leopold like a knife.
Across the room, Bart’s eyes widened. “Boyfr—”
Bart cut himself off with a chuckle, then shook his head before hooking his arm around Skye. “She’s supposed to be introducing me as her fiancé now. Right, honeybun?”
Her smile was tight but teasing. “Not until you buy me the ring, sweetie.”
He laughed then moved to kiss her on the forehead, but she backed away, waving an unadorned left hand. “Ring first, then the kisses.”
Bart pressed a hand over his heart, pulled an exaggerated frown, then looked at Leo. “You always hurt the ones you love.”
“So I’ve heard.” Leopold cleared his throat, shooting a sideways glance toward Skye. “But, ah, we really should get going.”
“Going?” Her brow furrowed. “Aren’t we … practicing here?”
“What good would that do? You’re already comfortable speaking to me. And presumably you have no qualms about speaking to your fiancé.”
“He makes a good point, snugglemuffins,” Bart said.
Skye’s smile was almost a grimace. Leopold wasn’t surprised. There was a time and place for pet names, and frankly he would prefer that time and place not be here and now. “Thanks for your input, honey.”
“Shall we?” Leopold asked. He hoped she said yes. Otherwise he might have to text Jürgen to pull the fire alarm simply as an escape plan. But then the media might show up, and he might get photographed. Definitely not the best plan.
“Sure,” she said, blowing a kiss too Bart. “Don’t wait up and don’t worry. I have an excellent chaperone.”
Bart blew a kiss back, and Leopold was grateful to escape the treacle. Jürgen followed them onto the elevator, acknowledging Skye only with a nod. “I had no idea you were engaged,” Leopold said as the elevator descended. He caught the rise of Jürgen’s brows, but kept his attention on Skye.
“Why would you?”
A good question, and one he couldn’t answer honestly. Over the years, he’d kept tabs on her career and, he’d thought, her personal life. He knew she had a male roommate, but he’d assumed that they were only friends. He’d never allowed his team to poke around too closely in her life. Now, he regretted maintaining that distance.
Except, no, he didn’t. Or at least he shouldn’t. There was no future between them. Even if it weren’t impossible because of his inevitable coronation, the fact that he walked out on her would be enough to cool the most red-hot of romances.
The unfortunate and inescapable reality was that Skye could never be his. And in light of that fact, he knew that he should be happy for her to have found a man she loved. One she was so clearly comfortable with. Who teased her and laughed with her.
Yes, he was happy for her. Giddy, even. Absolutely, he was.
“—getting off?”
He frowned; those weren’t exactly words he was expecting.
“Are we getting off?” Skye repeated, nodding toward the open elevator doors.
“Yes. Of course.” He stepped to the side, allowing her to exit first, then followed. Jürgen flashed a knowing smirk, then fell in step behind them.
“Where … are we going?”
“Not far,” Leopold said, still pulling himself together. “Come on.”
He led her through downtown to his hotel, then across the lobby to the marble stairs that led up to the Driskill Bar, an atmospheric venue with dark wooden paneling, leather furniture, and bronze sculptures. A pianist was playing soft music, and he led her to a small table for two. Jürgen settled himself on one of the barstools. Far enough away to give them privacy. Close enough to keep an eye on Leopold should a random assassin decide to pop in and take a shot.
“I love this place,” Skye said once they were settled. “It feels like something … out of another era. Like a speak … easy.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind what?”
“Being alone with me.”
“Why would I?”
“You’re engaged. Bart doesn’t mind?”
She glanced down at the tabletop. “This is work. Isn’t it?” When she lifted her head, he saw the question in her eyes.
“Of course.” He was about to press further when the waiter arrived. “I’ll let you order for both of us,” he told Skye, who scowled, but didn’t argue.
“Garrison Brothers,” she told the woman. “One … ice cube for me. Neat for … him.”
“Appetizers?”
“Fries … please.”
“You got it.” The woman turned, her blond ponytail swinging.
“You sounded fine,” he said. “Clear and confident.”
She shook her head. “She could have … driven to Dallas … in those pauses.”
“That’s her problem, not yours. You were the one ordering—that pays her bills. And in two weeks, you’ll be the one delivering valuable information to me and everyone else at the symposium. That means you’re the one with the power.”
“Not according to … my dad.”
“What? The client is always right? That may be true later in the relationship, but not when you’re sharing knowledge. We need you, Skye. That gives you power.”
She licked her lips, and that simple swipe of her tongue set off a chain reaction of memories that had him gripping the arms on his chair to forestall a very inappropriate groan. This woman. No one had ever affected him the way she had—and still did. And right then he hated the universe for the cruel game it had played with the two of them.