Duty At What Cost?

On the one hand she was glad he was treating her like a stranger, but it made her feel inadequate when all she could do was remember the feel of his body when it had been joined to hers, his hands on her skin, his mouth... Oh, his mouth!

And Frédéric had been killed. Someone might be trying to kill her as well...

‘No, that is not all.’ Her father brought her attention back to him. ‘Wolfe has also been hired as your personal bodyguard for the duration of the investigation.’

The breath stalled in her lungs and the room spun. ‘I don’t think I heard you correctly, sir.’

* * *

Neither did Wolfe.

Her personal bodyguard?

He glanced at Ava’s shocked expression and hoped his own didn’t mirror it. The King had requested that he organise personal security for her, not that he be responsible for her himself. He didn’t have time for that kind of grunt work on top of his corporate responsibilities. And guarding a woman who already occupied too much of his head space was not something he’d let any of his staff do.

‘I know you don’t like security being assigned to you Ava,’ the King said. ‘But things have changed. You are now the Crown Princess and you need to be protected at all times. This situation highlights how important that is.’

‘Yes, but we have our own security detail.’

Her father sighed, as if he was settling in for a familiar battle. ‘I believe hiring an outsider is the best course of action until this situation is resolved. Wolfe comes highly recommended and is a personal friend of Gilles.’

‘I disagree.’

Determination vibrated through her voice and got Wolfe’s back up.

The skin on the back of his neck prickled and he resisted the urge to rub it; he was a master at not giving in to those physical signs that demonstrated when a man was under extreme stress. He had tried to convince himself that his sleepless nights with Ava on his mind were just because he had a niggle about her accident. He’d assumed that once that niggle had been investigated and the King was apprised of the danger surrounding his daughter he’d be able to re-establish his normal routine.

The driving need that had hit him in the gut as soon as Ava had stepped into the room made a mockery of that. It wasn’t ruminations over her accident that had kept him awake—and hard—for the past two weeks. It was her.

Absently Wolfe wondered if she had relived their night together as much as he had, and whether she’d be interested in taking up where they had left off.

What?

He silently mocked his wishful thinking. By the look of her she’d prefer to run him through with one of those swords lining the King’s private study.

Maybe he just needed to get laid.

And, no, not with her. If he took her on as a client—

‘Wolfe is clearly too busy, sir. But I’m sure there’s another person out there just as capable.’

She was right about him being too busy, Wolfe thought, but there really was no one else he would trust with her life.

Feeling that he no longer had a choice, he gave the King a curt nod of acceptance.

‘No!’

The King cut an irritated look at his daughter. ‘Ava, this is not open for discussion. My word is law, and it’s time you realised that you have a responsibility, a duty, to your country. You will do it.’

Did that mean she didn’t want to? Wolfe wouldn’t have been surprised. He understood the fickle nature of women better than most.

She stood beside the window with her arms crossed and the afternoon sun turning her hair a deep glossy brown. Wolfe could feel her frustration, her fury, in every tautly held muscle of her slender body.

His own body flushed with heat as he took her in, and he couldn’t help resenting the effect she had on him. He didn’t want to be this caught up by the sight of a woman. Ever.

‘I’ll need absolute control,’ he said, overlaying unwanted thoughts with the professionalism he prided himself on. ‘Access to everything.’ Wolfe addressed his words to the King. ‘Every nook and cranny and secret entrance and exit to the castle. Ava’s diary. Her itinerary. I’ll employ my own chef to do her meals, and I want the final word on everything she does and every person she sees.’

‘You’re asking a lot.’

Wolfe knew what the King was saying. This is my daughter and you’d better not stuff up. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘Perhaps Monsieur Wolfe would like my firstborn, as well?’ Ava said, injecting her voice with bored insolence, tapping her foot agitatedly on the marble floor.