But they wouldn’t have stopped me. My parents wanted me to have the enjoyment of university and all that came with it. My security detail was merely to keep me safe from would-be kidnappers and the like.
Those days are a fond memory, and yeah… I’m totally jealous that Marius gets to live his life the way he wants to.
And because I don’t want to get into my pitiful lack of a sex life since returning home three years ago, I push myself up from the grass. “Let’s dive.”
It’s really what we came here for, so I shed my clothes, leaving me in just a one-piece black swimsuit that’s modest and functional. If I were sunbathing on the beach or at one of our three palace pools, I’d be in a bikini, but cliff diving requires clothing that will actually stay on when I hit the water.
Marius pops up, too, and pulls his tank over his head, tossing it down on top of my clothes.
“Last one off is a rotten egg,” he challenges but politely waits while I wrap my long, blond hair with a hair tie.
I look out over the calm waters, and a shiver runs up my spine. Even though the water is smooth as glass, the thirty-five-foot drop is a bit harrowing. It’s not considered a huge cliff, but the height is dizzying for most people. Marius and I have been secretly diving into the warm waters from this cliff since we were fourteen, and no one has been the wiser.
“Let’s do this,” I say, and before Marius can fathom what I’m doing, I give him a hard push. He stumbles backward by about two feet, which gives me a two-foot head start.
I take one long stride toward the cliff, knowing I only need another four good ones to launch off the edge. Before my foot can leave the grass for the second stride, a voice snarls, “Stop, Your Highness.”
My blood chills in my veins as I recognize the roll of that Russian accent.
My father’s head of security, Dmitri Lebedev.
I slowly turn my head to find him standing fifteen feet away, and he’s pissed. After all this time sneaking out and cliff diving with Marius and essentially taking control of my life, I’ve been busted.
The woman in me—the one who hates being controlled and told what she can and can’t do—rebels against his command, and I actually step closer to the cliff’s edge. Dmitri’s icy-blue eyes flash with fury that I’d dare disobey him.
It’s quite a scary expression. Even Marius feels the dangerous vibes because he mutters in a low voice, “Don’t do it, Cami.”
He knows me well. He knows I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m going to take that dive off the cliff. I mean, I’ve already been busted. My escapades are coming to an end because now I’ll be put under heavy scrutiny and the steel-door passwords will be changed and I will not be made privy to them.
Fuck it. Might as well take one last dive.
I turn toward the cliff and the sparkling waters and prepare for a mad dash. He can’t catch me in time.
But before I even lift my foot again, Dmitri says in a deadly calm, rumbling tone, “Take one step, and I’ll shoot him.”
Ever so slowly, I glance over my shoulder and see that Dmitri has his gun unholstered, in his hands and pointed directly at Marius.
For a split second, I’m terrified he’ll actually shoot my best friend to keep me from jumping. Dmitri has no clue that I’ve done this hundreds of times, and he’s a bit crazy to begin with. He has no limits by which to hold him back in the protection of the Winterbourne family, so he could very well put a bullet in Marius’s leg to stop me.
But no … he won’t. He’d never. I’m sure of it.
Regardless, the jolt of adrenaline that nearly propelled me off despite the consequences fizzles, and my spine becomes boneless. With a sigh, I turn away from my adventurous free fall and stomp back to my clothes.
Marius gives me a sad smile, knowing that this little shenanigan we’ve shared through the years is done. He makes no move to put his tank on, and I’m sure he’s going to take a dip after I leave.
I pull my shorts and T-shirt on, shove my feet into my sandals, and turn toward Dmitri. His gun is again holstered, and he makes a sweeping motion toward the path that will lead us back to the door. He doesn’t bother looking at Marius but merely inclines his head for me to precede him.
I do so, and I don’t look back at my friend. I know it will be too painful to get that one last look at the freedom I’ve just lost forever.
It’s with a pissy attitude that I lead us back to the steel door. I step aside and make Dmitri punch in the code. Arms crossed over my chest, I demand irritably, “How did you know I was out there?”
“I went looking for you, and you weren’t in your suite like you told Netty you would be. It was a simple review of the security cameras to find you.”
We move through the door, into the palace through the servants’ quarters, and I assume he’s going to escort me either to my father’s office where I can face his ire or to my suite.
He does neither, though, instead turning down a hall that leads to the security offices.
“Where are we going?” I ask suspiciously.
“Some people you need to meet,” he replies curtly, not bothering to slow his pace or look over his shoulder at me.
“Who?” I demand.
“The members of the security agency your father hired to accompany you to London for the wedding and then on your trip to the States.”
I stop mid-stride, stunned by his revelation. “But why? I assumed you’d be heading up the trips with our own men.”
His tone is clipped. “Some of our men will be involved, but I cannot attend to you, and your father felt better with this American company to help us.”
“What do you mean you cannot attend to me?” I ask, scrambling to catch up with him. “You’re the head of our security. It’s your job.”
“It’s not my only job,” he mutters in annoyance as he comes to a closed door that leads into a conference room.
“Stop,” I command imperiously, and to my surprise, Dmitri faces me. In my haughtiest tone, I declare, “I am Princess Camille of House Winterbourne. I demand you look at me when I’m talking to you. I also demand that you give me the full details about what the hell is going on. You answer to me as much as to my father.”
Dmitri’s eyes flash again, not with anger like out on the cliff side, but with amusement.
He finds me funny.
And it’s humiliating that I don’t even get the respect my weighted title should afford me.
He reaches out and turns the knob, pushing open the door. He sweeps a hand and says, “Why don’t you see for yourself? All the answers to your questions wait in there.”
CHAPTER 3
Jackson
“I’ve seen worse places to have a home,” Ladd comments as he stands before a pair of opened French balcony doors. The view is of the city center with the Coral Sea beyond. While Bretaria is only about as old as the United States, the wealth blanketing the island means that all the buildings are pristine, the roads new, and there are no obvious signs of poverty.
From the dossier I read at least ten times during the long flight, I learned that King Thomas uses his ridiculous wealth to manage upkeep of everything. There are no taxes on the people who live here, but then again, their money isn’t needed for the sovereign state. The citizens—which number close to a hundred thousand between the main island and the outliers with mines—fall into two classes: middle working class and the überwealthy.