Camille’s head whips toward Dmitri. “I already have an escort. Marius will be—”
“Meeting you there,” Dmitri interrupts. “Mr. Gale will be taking you.”
“But I’m not in danger on this island,” she insists. “And Marius is expecting to pick—”
Dmitri cuts her off again. “Marius has been informed to meet you there. Starting tonight, Mr. Gale will be your personal bodyguard.”
“I don’t need a personal bodyguard here,” she snaps, blue eyes darkening to what I imagine the deep ocean would look like.
Dmitri cocks an eyebrow at her. “Contrary to the fact you went outside the palace walls without permission or protection and were going to dive off a cliff into the sea.”
My body jerks at that revelation, and I see that Ladd, Cruce, and Dozer are all as shocked as I am.
She’s a rebel.
A bad girl.
An adventurous spirit.
Christ, my job just got infinitely harder.
And admittedly, more interesting. Never in a million years did I imagine the princess diving off a cliff.
“Whatever,” Camille snarls at Dmitri and opens the door. She sails through and slams it behind her. There’s the pique I’d been expecting.
Dmitri looks at each of us before giving a small nod. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to continue your plans. We can meet again tomorrow.”
After Dmitri exits, we settle back down in our chairs. Ladd remains standing, arms crossed over his chest. “That was interesting,” he says.
Dozer leans over his computer, typing furiously. The clacking of his keyboard has us all watching him. His head pops up, and he grins at me over the laptop screen, eyes sparkling. “I just put this information into BOB, and it reports back that you are going to have your hands full with this woman.”
I glare at him but Ladd, Cruce, and Dozer have a good laugh at my expense.
CHAPTER 4
Camille
“Why are you in such a crappy mood?” Marius asks from beside me.
True to Dmitri’s word, Marius is waiting outside the Enovia amphitheater hosting my mother’s private fundraiser. We’re here to champion her cause for education reform in underprivileged countries. She’s currently working on a project to develop a school that would allow over a thousand lower- and middle-class school children to attend for free, along with food stipends for entire families, in Haiti.
Jackson Gale drove us in one of Father’s Bentleys, and I was grateful he didn’t attempt small talk. In fact, he didn’t attempt any talk at all. Didn’t even offer a “good evening, Your Highness” when I met him at the east side carport.
He was polite enough to open the back door and made sure I pulled the length of my silver gown in all the way, but he was silent on the ten-minute drive to the amphitheater. Marius saw us arrive and jogged down the steps to open my door before Mr. Gale could even get out of the driver’s side.
Which was fine by me. I intended to ignore the man all night because, frankly, he wasn’t worth my attention.
Even if he was worth my attention—which, honestly, okay … he’s super hot—I wouldn’t be in the frame of mind to exert the effort. My mind is preoccupied by other things.
“My father is hiding something from me,” I say to Marius as my eyes sweep the outdoor venue. The lower level of chairs that make up the base of the stadium have been cleared, and tables have been set up for people to sit if they don’t want to stand and mingle. An orchestra plays, and waiters flow through the crowd offering canapés and champagne.
I chose something stronger, a gimlet on the rocks, but I’ve barely taken a sip. Instead, I stare across the crowd at my father, dashing in his tuxedo and royal sash draped across his chest. He wears no other adornments, and his coronation crown has been locked in a vault since he took the throne almost thirty years ago.
My mother, Juliana Winterbourne, is a vision next to him. I inherited her blond hair and blue eyes, and she looks like my sister rather than my mother. She’s Brazilian, and my father met her during the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul. He was there to watch, and she was there to play volleyball for her home country.
While she is tall and lithe, the epitome of queenly grace at fifty-two, she’s also a strong, powerful woman. She works out religiously—as does my father, who is powerful in his own right—and plays in a local recreational volleyball league where she crushes pretty much all the competition.
She must sense me staring at her, because she turns her lovely face my way and gives me a smile. Her eyes cut to Marius, the smile turns sly and comes back to me.
I smirk and shake my head at her.
Don’t go there, Mother. Marius and I are just friends.
And the infuriating woman knows it.
God love her, but it’s her queenly duty to help my father in his quest to find me someone suitable to marry and procreate with. Deep down, she knows I’m going to hold out for true love—whatever that means and wherever I find it—rather than be forced into something.
It’s just … my mom thinks it’s Marius, because we’re such close friends. She thinks that building block is what’s going to catapult our hearts together.
Sweet woman.
My eyes cut over to my father, and I feel my ire rise. When I demanded he tell me what’s going on—because I know he’s hiding something—he patronized me. Patted me on the head, figuratively, and told me not to worry my pretty self on such things.
I wanted to kick him, but I would never because I love him too much.
“What could he be hiding?” Marius asks drolly. “He has the dullest monarchy in the history of monarchies. There’s no political intrigue or royal scandals. His business operates so smoothly a monkey could run the mines, and he has the perfect family, except for one highly suspicious and daft daughter.”
There’s no stopping my elbow as it shoots sideways and catches him in the ribs. Marius was expecting it, though, and turned slightly so I only grazed him.
He laughs, sliding an arm around my waist and drawing me into him. To most, this would seem a romantic gesture. To Marius and me, it’s his way of offering comfort. His shoulder is the one I’ve cried on the most over my lifetime, and while he’s teasing, he knows I’m legitimately upset. I told him everything that happened after Dmitri busted me outside the walls, including the meeting with the American security team. I told him Dmitri and Father are hiding something, and I know there’s an important reason Dmitri isn’t handling my security. I also told him that after Father pointedly refused to tell me anything, he did order that I was never to step foot outside the walls again without security, and if he caught me doing so, he’d lock me in my room until I ascended the throne.
He wouldn’t, of course, but I know I have to cool it. If Marius and I want to go cliff diving, I’ll need permission and arrangements for security. This will obviously defeat the spontaneous acts of adventure Marius and I take together, not to mention our privacy to talk about all the secretive things we share.
Mostly his active sex life and my nonexistent one, but still… that’s private.
“There’s something wrong,” I say adamantly, although he’s right—we’re probably the dullest monarchy in history. “This whole story about the American government insisting on this Jameson company to lend protection and that’s why Dmitri is staying back doesn’t make sense. Especially since Father and Mother have suspended all their travel while I’m on my trip. They’re going to be safe at the compound, so why would Dmitri not accompany me?”