“Two,” she said.
“What?”
“Two of your employees did.” She reinforced the figure by holding up a matching number of fingers. “I’ve given two of them the slip while they were busy rubbernecking some woman’s figure.”
“Former,” he said.
“What?”
“Former employees. They lacked discipline, and that means I have no room for them among my staff. You may not realize this, as your spoiled tendencies keep you from looking too far outside of yourself, but this is about more than image.”
“Is it? I thought it was mainly about making sure I didn’t look unsuitable to possible fiancés.”
“This is about your safety. You are an important piece of political power, printzyessa.”
“Am I?” She injected false, breathless surprise into her voice. “And here I thought I was just Evangelina.”
“When a title is involved, no one is ‘just’ anything.”
She turned to face him, the indicator the sound of her clothes sliding over the leather. He didn’t turn to look at her. Didn’t take his eyes of the road. “Except I am. I am just a political pawn.”
“An important one,” he said.
She snorted and he heard her flop back against her seat. “What more could a girl ask for?”
Eva felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. Her arm still burned from where Makhail had touched her, and she was so angry she thought she might actually fold in on herself. Yes, she was being outrageous and she knew it. But it was her power. Her only power.
Impotent, it turned out.
Six months ago, when her father had introduced her to Makhail she’d breathed a sigh of relief that he was no longer a field agent. That he wouldn’t be guarding her personally. Because he … well, he was just too disturbing. Far too big. Too masculine. Broad shoulders and cropped brown hair, a square jaw, a mouth that looked as if it had never smiled. And his eyes … gray like the barrel of a gun. And they were every bit as cold.
And now here he was. It was one thing to mess around his goons. Easy too. They were far too interested in what was going on around them. But Makhail focused in on her in a way that no one else ever did. It was as if he was looking into her. She didn’t like it at all.
“Perhaps a girl could ask for more diamonds in her gilded cage?”
“You think because I’m rich I have no right to complain?” she asked.
“Not at all. I’m not here to have an opinion. An opinion would imply that I care. I don’t. I am here to do a job. Keep you safe, keep you scandal-free. I will do it.”
“Until my marriage?”
“After, if I must.”
A strange thought. That she would be guarded even after her marriage was secured, and yet she knew it was true. She was a royal, destined to marry a royal. From the moment she’d been born, her life had been controlled down to what shoes she was to put on in the morning.
And of course, the man she would marry was also to be carefully selected. Just like her breakfast cereal.
It had been over six months since she’d woken up to a terrible, clawing fear that she would never be able to make a decision for herself. Not one. Not about what she wore, not about where she went, or what she ate. That was when the serious rebellion started. So Makhail Nabatov could talk about duty and spoiled brattiness all he wanted, but he didn’t know what it was like to be her.
He was the enemy.
“I dare say my husband will have his own guards intent on ensuring my submission.”
“And what makes you think they’ll be any better than your father’s guards?”
He didn’t look at her, never took his eyes from the road, his profile strong, uncompromising. A crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken at least once, a square jaw that verged on being too sharp. A mouth that looked incapable of smiling.
“They may not be. But maybe I won’t try to escape. That all depends on who my father selects, I suppose. Or if I fall in love with him.”
She doubted she would. She had a vague idea of who her father might find suitable, because there weren’t very many royals just lying around for her to marry. A few minor members of nobility, and of course there was Bastian, King of Komenia, a small principality in eastern Europe, actively looking for his queen. She felt nothing for him, no matter how hard she tried. And she did try.