Dirty Thief

“Not at all.” His arm moves to my waist and he stops our walking. “Now we have to make up for all the sex we won’t be having when we have a toddler running around.”

“Zee says we’ll have nannies and maids to take care of the babies.”

“Hm…” He nods as if considering this for the first time. “So essentially we don’t have to change a thing. Panties remain off by royal decree.”

That makes me laugh. “Will that be printed in the news tomorrow?”

“God, no.” He pulls my waist, and we start to walk again. “You’d never be able to leave the house again. Do you realize how gorgeous you are?”

I lean my head against his shoulder smiling. “

I’m happy you’re so happy.”

“No more clenching my fists like a cave man?”

“I hope not,” I sigh.

“Since you brought it to my attention, I’ve been trying to break the habit.”

Poking out my lips I squint up at him. “Are you saying you’re not really happy?”

“My love, I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

We’re at the door to our room, and he leans down to kiss me slowly. My entire body heats, and I slide my fingers in the sides of his hair. He carries me to our bedroom, and we slowly shed our clothing as we lose ourselves in the burning glow of happiness.

Chapter 17

Rowan

Cal sits to my left when Fayed appears on the videoconference screen. He has two other Tunisian diplomats with him, and not one of them is smiling.

“Good afternoon, my friend,” I say, hoping to set a neutral tone for this conversation.

“Rowan,” he states. “I’ve received word from the Turkish ambassador the restrictions we discussed have been put in place.”

Blinking down to the thick set of papers before me, I do a slight nod. “It’s a temporary measure we hope will bring some much-needed calm to the people of Monagasco.”

“It’s a short-sighted move that shows a lack of faith toward your allies,” one of the men beside him snaps.

My friend, the prince of Tunis, reaches out and touches the man’s arm. “I want to hear from you, Rowan. What do you hope to accomplish by doing this?”

“The measure was brought to me by our parliament. It isn’t closing doors. It’s basically stopping the free flow of workers from certain countries without a system of registry. Without a visa.”

Cal leans forward to speak. “It’s a similar measure used by Great Britain and other allies to give the citizens a sense of security.”

“So you’re no longer allowing workers to visit the Riviera?”

“Of course not,” I reply. “For starters, we don’t even cover the entire Riviera. Drivers, deliverymen who already possess visas will have no problems crossing our borders. We’re simply asking businesses to register all new hires.”

“This is about the refugees,” another of Fayed’s men states as if the suggestion disgusts him. “This is religious discrimination.”

“It’s about the trucks being driven into crowds during holiday gatherings,” Cal answers quickly, his tone laced with anger.

It’s my turn to reach over and touch his arm. “You know the difficulties we’ve had over the last two years. You know what happened to me at the race,” I say. “The time for pretending we don’t have enemies has come to an end. We have to start enforcing certain safety measures. It’s not to inhibit trade or keep anyone out.”

“What happened at the race came from within,” the other man argues.

“You’re right,” I agree. “No system is perfect, and if someone wants to do harm, they will find a way. We’re just hoping to slow them down. Perhaps catch more than we miss.”