King's Ransom (Man on a Mission 2)

Her thoughts in turmoil, Juliana entered the outer office, where three male secretaries guarded entrance to the inner sanctum with smiling but unshakable resolution. “I am sorry, Miss Richardson,” the appointments secretary told her. “His Royal Majesty is extremely busy this morning. I could make an appointment for you at...” He looked at the computer screen, checking the calendar there. “Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.” He smiled, anticipating her acquiescence, his next question merely a formality. “Would that do?”

Juliana stood her ground. “His Majesty asked me last night if I would film an appeal for the Red Cross relating to the landslide. The sooner, the better, I thought. Could you ask him about it? He didn’t give me any details when we spoke.”

“Of course, Miss Richardson. Excuse me a moment.” The secretary slid from his chair, knocked on the door to the inner office and waited for a response before opening the door, entering and closing it behind him. He was back in less than a minute. “Please come this way, Miss Richardson,” the appointments secretary said. And while he’d always been respectful, there was a different intonation now, a deference that hadn’t been there before.

Andre was on the phone when she entered, but he smiled his faint smile as soon as he saw her and indicated a chair in front of his desk. Juliana seated herself and looked around the room as she waited. She couldn’t remember ever having been in the inner office before, but she imagined it had been completely redone when Andre ascended the throne, because it didn’t look like the kind of office the old king would have had.

The furniture here now suited Andre somehow. Not modern, not casual, but not stiffly formal, either. Comfortable. She imagined he spent a lot of time here. Zakhar wasn’t a large country—probably equivalent in size to the state of Vermont, she thought abstractedly, although even more mountainous. But running a country wouldn’t be a sinecure, not if you threw yourself into the job heart and soul, the way Andre did.

When she turned her head all the way to the right she saw Andre’s bodyguard—not the one who’d accompanied the king in the chapel last night, a different one—sitting motionless in a chair in the corner. After she thought about it for a moment, she realized he looked like the same bodyguard who’d been on duty the night of the reception. She remembered him because after Andre had spoken to him he’d faded back into the crowd, but his eyes had never left the man he was guarding. And now that she thought of it, he was also the one who’d been on duty outside the little library the evening she and Andre had confronted one another.

She gave the bodyguard a friendly smile of recognition, but he didn’t smile back. He merely acknowledged her smile with an inclination of his head and a slight softening of his expression, and with Andre still on the phone her thoughts went on a tangent.

Bodyguards. She’d gotten used to the necessity in the United States. There were crazies out there, and no one recognizably famous was safe. It had been refreshing not to need a bodyguard here in Zakhar, but then again, she was just an actress. She wasn’t in Andre’s shoes. Even though Zakhar was fiercely loyal to the monarchy, there was always a chance someone might try to assassinate him. There had been two attempts on his life since he ascended the throne—that had been front-page news; it had been impossible to avoid...even if she hadn’t read everything she could about Andre over the years. But judging from the careful way this man watched over his king, Andre was in good hands.

Only one bodyguard, though? she thought, suddenly worried for Andre’s safety, remembering the team of Secret Service agents who surrounded the US president whenever he went anywhere. Shouldn’t Andre have at least two people guarding him? Or more? Maybe he did...when he was outside the palace. No, that can’t be right, she reminded herself. There had been only one bodyguard in evidence at the cemetery.

Andre made one last forceful statement into the phone, and Juliana understood enough Zakharan to know he didn’t agree with whoever was on the other end before he hung up the phone with a decided bang. She raised her eyebrows in a question, and Andre made a derisive sound. “That was my chief councillor. The Privy Council is dragging its feet...again.” She saw the struggle for patience on his face. “As usual, Niko is... But that is not why you are here, Juliana,” he said with another faint smile. “Thank you for coming so quickly to help with the disaster relief. But are you not needed on the set today?”

She shook her head. “I’m free until Friday. They’ve rearranged the schedule so Dirk can leave earlier.”