The mere fact the king hasn’t thrown me in the dungeon probably means Dmitri is doing a good job keeping our secret.
In Camille’s private office, I take a chair in the corner so I am not a distraction. Sometimes I pretend to peruse my phone so she doesn’t think I’m bored, but I’m actually focused and attuned to her every action. I watch her take phone calls and meetings and direct her staff. Sometimes she meets with her father, either in his office or hers, and they often switch from talking about business to fond memories of something she did when she was a child. Thomas may be a little high-handed, but there’s no doubt he loves his daughter beyond measure.
I respect that.
Except for pressuring her to get married and have children. It’s ridiculous.
Antiquated.
Sexist.
More importantly, it sets her on a path to some destiny, hopefully filled with love and happiness, that doesn’t include me, and that chafes.
I asked Camille casually night before last just before falling asleep, “I know you wouldn’t, but what would happen if you gave all this up?”
“My father would designate someone else in the bloodline as heir.”
“That seems oversimplified,” I muttered in surprise.
“Yes,” she replied with a small laugh. “Very simple. But I’d never do it. It means too much to him, and it means even more to our people as the monarchy is sacred in Bretaria. And there’s so much good work to be done with our wealth and influence. After Jonesboro, I’m more committed than ever to build solutions.”
And if there was a sliver of hope hiding deep in my gut that she might walk away from the pressures and obligations, it died right there.
Three weeks ago, I would’ve laughed if you’d told me I’d be here frustrated and irate over the fact that I’ve started to fall for such a complicated woman. But fuck it all, I’m not the same man I was three weeks ago. Camille has changed me, and I don’t like the circumstances I find us in.
I’ll even admit it to myself, possibly my mother and maybe a few friends at Jameson after one too many beers, that if Camille were willing to walk away from her royal destiny, I’d take her back to Pittsburgh with me, and we would work on our own happily ever after, whatever that might mean.
But the reality is, Camille will never walk away from her duty, and if I’m honest with myself, I wouldn’t want her to. As much as I hate it, it’s one of the things I respect about her and I would never do anything to change.
So my days have been filled with bodyguarding … staying in proximity to her no matter where she is. In her offices, at the dining table with her parents, having tea with friends, and even one miserable dinner with a potential suitor her father had set up. I wanted to strangle the guy with my bare hands even though I could tell Camille was bored to tears and not interested.
The nights, though… they make up for the misery of the days. After Camille finishes dinner, always spent with her parents or some jackass they’re trying to set her up with, we meet in her room. There we do our damnedest to make up for the inability to be together during the day. We fuck like crazy at times, and sometimes I make love to her slowly. When we manage to exhaust one another, she falls asleep wrapped tightly in my arms.
It’s admittedly the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life.
Right now, I’m escorting Camille from her private suite down to one of the three palace pools. She has a lunch date with her best friend Marius, and then they intend to swim.
Apparently, I’m jealous of the dude even though by all accounts, he’s never going to have anything romantic with her.
At least that’s what Camille told me not long ago as she was shimmying into her swimsuit. I sat on the bed and watched, loving the fact that she doesn’t attempt to hide her body from me. Jealous, not really of Marius but of the fact that I couldn’t toss her on the bed and have my way with her.
Mark her as mine before she goes off to have lunch with another man.
I made some snide remark about her friend, something to do with me expressing my doubts that he could only want a friendship. I mean, come on—look at this beautiful woman. Sexy beyond imagination, smart, funny, caring.
Why in the fuck isn’t Marius trying to tap that?
Camille could have laughed at my insecurity. She could’ve chided me. She could have gotten angry and told me to grow up.
Instead, her eyes twinkled as she tied the top of her one-piece suit around her neck before sauntering over to me where I sat on the edge of the bed.