I glance over my shoulder at Marius, leveling him with a look that pleads with him to rescue me. To my horror, my best friend abandons me. His gaze seems calculated as it moves to focus on Jackson. He then gives a slight shake of his head, smirk fully in place, before turning and walking away.
“I’m going to murder that bastard,” I mutter.
“Pissed your boyfriend is abandoning you?” Jackson mocks as he leads me straight to the middle of the dance floor and deftly turns me in his arms.
His right hand goes to my waist and his left takes my right, holding it at an angle away from my body. He puts appropriate distance between us and sweeps me across the large, parquet dance floor beside the orchestra.
I keep my lips pressed together and don’t disabuse Jackson of the notion that Marius is my boyfriend. The mere fact he threw that in my face would only give him satisfaction if I were to deny the nature of our relationship. Besides, it’s none of his business.
Instead, I say, “Do you treat all your clients so bullishly?”
“Bullishly?” Jackson asks with a bark of laughter. “I would never treat a princess bullishly. I would handle a spoiled brat who recklessly put herself in danger by bending said brat over my knee and spanking some sense into her.”
That should’ve pissed me off.
I should be so offended I’d be within my right to slap his face, not that I’ve ever done something like that.
His threat should make me want to berate him for his temerity. It should make me want to run to my father and Dmitri and tell them they’ve made a huge mistake letting this obnoxious man have control over my safety.
Rather, I’m horrified to realize that I have a vivid image of me over Jackson’s lap, and my skin tingles just from the promise of a spanking.
I shake my head hard. What the fuck am I thinking?
Why would I ever imagine such a scenario?
I banish it from my head, but it comes roaring back, except this time with more clarity. Jackson’s in his tux, sitting on the edge of a bed. I’m in my gown, bent over his lap and held in place with his large hand on my lower back. His other hand slides my gown up my legs, over my ass, which, I’m shocked to find, isn’t covered by any panties. His palm grazes over my flesh—
I stumble over my own feet as we dance, and Jackson easily rights me. I’m so embarrassed by where my mind had gone that I blurt out almost hysterically, “So, what do you think about the weather on our island?”
I wince internally because that was the most asinine thing to say. It propelled me from a position of power down to the echelons of bumbling idiots.
It made clear that this man intimidates me.
I hope it doesn’t make it clear that I’m attracted to him.
If he has an ounce of sense, he’s going to know something just threw me into disarray.
Jackson’s lips curve upward, and the sparkle in his eye tells me he knows I got sidetracked by the threat of a spanking.
I clear my throat. “There’s a really great beach along the eastern side of the island you should check out, and if you want a tour of the ruby mines, I could arrange—”
“Just stop it,” Jackson interrupts, and gone is the amusement I thought I just saw. “I get that you don’t know me and I don’t know you, and that Dmitri and his crew may do things differently, but as of this evening, I am exclusively in charge of your personal protection. So let’s just get one thing straight… unless you are inside your family’s compound, you are in my sight at all times. You don’t leave my sight without permission, and if you need to go somewhere, you give me an opportunity to determine the safety of it.”
“But we were just going down to the docks,” I insist angrily. “I go there all the time. I was with Marius, who would protect me. And I guarantee there were at least four of Dmitri’s crew outside, ready to follow at a distance.”
“Yes, you would have been so safe,” Jackson says dryly, bringing our dance to a sudden stop. His hands drop, and the areas of my body he’d been touching feel ice-cold now. “I imagine any one of those men protecting you could have stopped a sniper’s bullet fired from three buildings away.”
I blanch at the scenario, immediately dismissing it. “Who would want to kill me?” I demand. “I get I’m an ideal kidnapping target, but I’m worth more alive than dead.”
Jackson’s mouth snaps shut and he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t give me any plausible reason someone would want to kill me, but he also doesn’t give me any opportunity to push for an answer.
Instead, he nods across the way, and my gaze follows. It’s Marius, flirting with two women.
“If you and your boyfriend would like to go take that walk, I’ll be glad to escort you both. But you’ll need to pull him away from those women first.”
His tone sounds smug, almost victorious. Once again, I don’t correct him that Marius isn’t my boyfriend. I lift my chin and pin him with a confident smile. “Actually … I think I’d like to go home now if you can have the car brought around.”
Jackson inclines his head graciously. “As Your Highness desires.”
CHAPTER 5
Jackson
“I expected a bigger jet,” I mutter as I pull my suitcase out of the Bentley’s trunk. Like a 747, given the family’s wealth.
Not that the Bombardier Global 7500 is by any means a small plane. It has the capacity to seat fourteen and can fly up to sixteen hours, long enough to get us through the first ten-hour leg to Dubai. There we will refuel and pick up a new set of Bretarian pilots who already traveled ahead of time. Then it’s another nine hours to London.
I watch as Camille ascends the steps and disappears inside the aircraft. She’s totally ignored me since sliding into the car this morning for the short drive to the private airport. She looks like she’s ready to summer in the Greek Isles as she’s dressed in a pair of skinny white jeans, a navy-and-white horizontally striped shirt, and a pair of white tennis shoes. Her large, white tote bag is casually slung over a shoulder, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. She’s got on oversized sunglasses and her hair is in a messy bun.
Looking at her, minus the $50 million plane she’s boarding, she almost looks… normal.
For the last two days, I’ve barely seen her, and when I have in passing, we’ve ignored each other. Ladd, Cruce, and Dozer went back to the States the day before yesterday to begin final preparations for the princess’s arrival. I stayed behind, as planned, to accompany her to London for her cousin’s wedding, and over the past few days, I’ve worked with Dmitri and the Bretarian security forces that will be making the extended trip to the States, including the man beside me, who’s going with us on the plane as Dmitri’s right-hand man.
Paul Regis has been in the king’s employ under Dmitri for the past four years. Even though there are men and women who have worked in security longer, Dmitri said Paul is his most trusted and the man he’s chosen to be my second to protect the princess. He’s former French Foreign Legion, and his specialty is hand-to-hand combat. Dmitri wanted him with me as my second in case an attempt is made on Camille. If she’s going to be snatched away from us, it will entail face-to-face, close combat to protect her.