The Millionaire's Royal Rescue

The questions kept coming one after the other in rapid succession. Thanks to social media, they couldn’t even visit the university without the whole world knowing.

He glanced over at Annabelle and was surprised to find her keeping it all together. But then again as a member of the royal family, she was probably used to these occurrences. Now he better understood her father’s reluctance to lift the security detail.

Campus security quickly responded. Grayson guessed that the bodyguard had alerted them. With help, they made it to their car. Marta drove as he sat with Annabelle in the backseat. But when they took off out of the parking lot, they were followed.

As their speed increased so did Grayson’s anxiety. His fingers bit into the door handle. His body tensed as memories washed over him. Usually he only visited this nightmare when it was late and he was alone. But now it was happening right before his wide-open eyes.

His past and present collided. He recalled the moments leading up to the hideous chain of events. It was like a horror movie playing in his mind and he was helpless to stop it.

“Grayson, are you okay?” Annabelle asked.

He nodded, not trusting his voice at that moment.

“No, you’re not.” She pressed a hand to his cheek. “You feel okay, but you’re pale as a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he ground out.

Just then there was a bang. He jumped, nearly hitting his head on the roof. In the next instant, he was leaning over to Annabelle and pulling her as close as possible with seat belt restraints still on.

“Grayson, let me up.” She pushed on his chest.

He hesitated. Not hearing any further gunfire, he moved, allowing Annabelle to sit fully upright.

“What was that?” she asked, uneasiness filling her voice.

Grayson didn’t dare say what he thought it was. He didn’t want to scare her any more than necessary. Sadly, he knew what a gunshot sounded like from inside a vehicle.

“A vehicle backfired,” Marta said from the driver’s seat.

Annabelle’s hand slipped in his and squeezed.

A backfire? That knowledge should make him feel better and put him at ease, but it didn’t. There were still paparazzi in cars and motorcycles swarming all around them. Their chaotic and unwanted caravan was flying down the highway now.

“Marta, take us back to the palace,” Annabelle ordered.

The bodyguard never took her gaze off the road. “Understood. I’ll let the palace know we’re coming in hot.”

Annabelle leaned her head against Grayson’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Don’t worry. We’ll be at the palace soon.”

“I’m fine.” Why did he keep saying that? He was anything but fine. It was just that he wasn’t ready to open up about his past. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in Annabelle’s eyes when she knew that he wasn’t such a great guy after all.

“No, you’re not. If it’s the paparazzi, I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t think about them getting wind of us being at the university. But I’m sure some of the students got excited and were posting pictures and messages about the visit on their social media accounts.”

They remained hand in hand the rest of the way back to the palace where there was a heavy contingent of armed guards. There was no way any reporter was going to get past the gates.

As the gates swung closed behind them and their speed drastically reduced, Grayson could at last take a full breath. He felt foolish for letting the incident affect him so greatly. It’d been a while since he’d had a panic attack. There’d been a period after the accident when he’d stopped leaving his Malibu beach house for this very reason.

It’d been more than a year since the accident. He’d thought that he would have been past it by now. But the idea of the same thing happening to Annabelle shook him to the core.

When the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the palace, he immediately jumped out. He’d made an utter fool of himself. How could he not tell the difference between a gunshot and a car backfiring? What was the matter with him?

He needed some fresh air and a chance to pull himself together before he faced Annabelle’s inevitable questions. He couldn’t blame her for wondering what was going on with him, but he didn’t know what to tell her. He’d never discussed that very painful episode with anyone but a counselor. And he wasn’t going to start now.

He took off in the direction of the beach. He knew from talking to Annabelle that it was private. He would be safe from prying eyes there.

“Grayson, wait,” Annabelle called out.

He kept moving.