“Have you read the information Robert provided?”
“No, sir.”
He’d been tempted. So tempted. But he thought Ele would prefer to tell him her secrets, not have him read them in a dossier provided by her personal protection officer. If they even got to the point where they were sharing secrets. A few kisses exchanged did not exactly mean they would get to a place where their lives intertwined.
“The meeting between the two of you was unexpected.” James looked beyond Tristan, like he was trying to figure out how much he wanted to divulge. “It’d been so long since she interacted with anyone outside of the family and our staff, as I’m sure you know. But we knew so little about you. I mean, I guess the whole country knows what you are doing and eating on a daily basis, but who you really are was a bit of a mystery.”
Tristan merely raised a brow.
“I had you vetted, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Well, you are all wrong for her. A commoner, a footballer, a different race.”
Tristan thought he should be offended, but it was all true.
“I needed to make sure you were a good guy.” James held up his hand. “And before you ask, her last boyfriend was a nobleman with impeccable lineage, and I had him investigated too.”
“Right. And was he right for her?”
“Bloody prick.”
Tristan snickered. James’s posh accent made the phrase sound completely proper, like he was saying, What a great guy.
“Pity.”
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James smirked. “Yes, pity.” Then, James’s eyes narrowed on Tristan. “You haven’t been with anyone since you met her.”
Tristan couldn’t explain why he felt the need to deny that, but he found himself saying, “It’s been a little busy. With the end of the regular season and preparing for the Cup, it’s not like women have been a priority.”
James chuckled. “Even the girl you left the party with.” The prince let his statement sink in, sort of like a tick embedded in your skin. You didn’t necessarily know it was there until it was dug in, sucking on your blood. “I couldn’t figure that out. Was it for Rowan Beckwith’s sake, some more denial?”
Unease flickered through Tristan. “Did you have someone following me? Or pay one of my mates to spy?” It was horrifying to think he’d been completely unaware someone had been watching him for the last two months. “Do you think Ele’s going to be okay with knowing you had me investigated?”
“No, but she’ll understand. And you will need to.”
Tristan had had enough. He pushed off the chair and stood. “No disrespect, Your Highness, but I’ve spent about two and a half hours with your sister. That’s not even the equivalent of a proper date and hardly a proper shag.”
James merely cocked a brow and took a sip of his drink.
“I don’t know if this is normal for you highfalutin, proper folk, but it’s not my jam.”
Completely unfazed, James said, “Just watching out for my sister.”
“I don’t know Ele very well, which makes this conversation even stranger, but I am fairly certain she would not be okay with this.”
James continued to watch Tristan, his demeanor unflappable. As Tristan’s agitation gathered steam, James took a draw from his glass, peering over the edge of it, icy-blue eyes intent.
“The thing is, Your Highness,” Tristan began with some derision, “if you think about the fear she must carry with her wherever she goes, knowing she could end up in the throes of a panic attack”—he shook his head—“the strength she shows every time she steps outside is greater than anything I have to come up against. Probably you too.”
James smiled. “Definitely me too.”
His agreement drew Tristan up short. He’d been about to leave, to show his indignation on Ele’s behalf, but instead, he dropped onto the arm of his seat.
“You’re not a normal person, Mr. Davenport.”