A Player for A Princess

“Entry points are here and here,” Reggie says, using a stylus to show the critical spots.

“Do we have a positive ID on his being there?” I say, arms crossed over my chest as I survey the entire layout.

The photographs are blown up, and like a puzzle, we’ve arranged all the prints to show the house, the grounds, the driveway—even the road leading to his compound.

“I’ve captured his image going in and out on more than one occasion,” Freddie says. He’s sitting at his laptop. “He’s definitely there.”

Logan nods and straightens, stepping back from the table. “I’ll go in and take him out.”

Possessive anger tightens my chest. “I’ll take him out.”

Our eyes lock briefly before my brother enters the room, breaking our moment of conflict.

“What’s going on here? Meeting already started?”

I move my angry gaze from Logan’s to my brother. “Freddie has a positive ID on Wade Paxton. He’s at this compound in Twatrington. I’m planning to dispose of him.”

Rowan’s blue eyes flash to mine. “I said we wait.”

I can’t stop the explosion. “I can’t do that, Ro. He has to pay for what he did.”

“And he will,” my brother’s voice is firm. “When the time is right. We’re not going to be implicated in an act of aggression against a neighboring country.”

“We have all the evidence we need to build a case—” I start, but Rowan cuts me off.

“Hampton is giving him asylum. We have to respect his authority and observe our borders.”

I can’t even speak I’m so livid. Throwing my hands in the air, I step to the window to look out at the emerald coast. Rowan steps behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“I know how you feel, but we have to observe protocol.”

Looking over my shoulder I meet his blue gaze. “And if he starts recruiting?”

“We’ll know.”

I don’t like this. It feels dangerous. It feels like we’re playing with fire. Still I can’t cross Rowan. I have to support him as king.

And I’m redoubling the watch on Wade Paxton.

27

Paper Faces

Zelda

Fittings and flowers and teas and lunches fill Ava’s days leading up to the royal wedding. She’s met more royal ladies and debutantes than I can count, and my head is swimming with all the names and titles. We’ve tasted cake after cake until I don’t think I can eat another bite—something I can’t believe I’m thinking. The masquerade ball is tonight, and it’s the final event as we lock into the countdown leading to the big day.

I’ve checked in with Ximena and Selena, and they are thriving at our villa in Tortola. I miss being there. I miss the ease and the relaxed atmosphere of the place. The frenzy of wedding preparation has me exhausted, but the baby is well. I’m able to spend time with my sister, and we’re almost finished. Sustaining thoughts.

Cal waits at the bottom of the stairs in a dark blue waistcoat and white satin breeches. A long white cravat is around his neck, and he’s wearing a simple black mask over his eyes.

I’m trying to navigate an enormous Louis XIV style gown with a giant hoop skirt. The bodice is off the shoulder blue velvet with silver accents that cuts low across my breasts, pushing them up and making them look even rounder than usual. My hair is styled in an elaborate updo, but I opted for a small silver mask that sits right across my eyes.

“This is insane,” I whisper, moving the skirt around. “I’m going to fall on my face in this thing.”

“You look amazing,” Cal smiles, his eyes lingering over my décolletage a moment before he gives me a light kiss. “The girls are blowing my mind.”

“It’s the dress,” I tease.