Page 48 of Happily Ever After

Pierre scoffed, “I’m a damned country, Flicka. I have an intelligence service, and my spies liaise with France’s intelligence services. None of that shit he’s planning will work, and you don’t want me to get angry, do you? Tell themto knock that shit off.”

Flicka lifted her chin, refusing to show the tremors in her hands. “I don’t have any way of contacting anyone. You won’t allow me a cell phone.”

Pierre’s face stiffened. “If they cause a scene at the Winter Ball, you’ll regret it. The Council of Nobles meets tomorrow. If there’s a commotion tonight, it might influence the votes tomorrow.”

Flicka shrugged. “Not my problem.”

“It’s my problem, so it is your problem.” He spun on his heel to face Quentin. “I want eight men around her. I don’t want one of Mirabaud’s mercenaries to get within ten feet of her. I don’t want them to be able to shout at her. I want the whole event locked down tight. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Quentin said, still unruffled. “That has been the plan all along. Eight men might be excessive, butwe can spare them. I’ll have to call in some men, though. I guess the duty roster isn’t final, after all. In addition to Jordan and Mathys, we’ll add a few more to Her Highness’s entourage.”

“Do it,” Pierre said.

Quentin glared at his tablet and looked up at Aiden Grier. “Tristan, you’re free tonight, right?”

Aiden, or Tristan, nodded. “I’ll add myself to the schedule.”

Flicka blinked. Hisaccent was that slightly odd variant of an Italian accent like all the other Monegasques. She’d heard that accent a lot in her life, and he spoke the Monegasque dialect perfectly.

Quentin held up his tablet. “I’m in the duty roster spreadsheet. I’ll add you.”

Aiden tapped his tablet with his thick finger. “I’ve got it.”

“No, no. I’m in the roster right now.” Quentin frowned. “It’s De Rossi,right? Tristan De Rossi? Are you under D or R in the listings?”

“Under D,” Aiden said. He swiped his tablet, flinging a window aside. “What the hell is wrong with this thing? Are we having a cyber attack?”

“I don’t see your name, and I’m in the duty roster,” Quentin groused. “Are you sure you’re not under R for Rossi?”

“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with this software,” Aiden said. “It’salways glitching. Did the government farm it out to the lowest bidder or the French?”

“Brousseau, Vitale, and Defrancesco are all in here. My name is where it’s supposed to be. Can we sort it by first names?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden said. “Maybe someone thought I quit when the—uh—when some people reconsidered their career choices a few months ago.”

Pierre glared at all of them, instantly pissedoff.

Flicka kept her eyebrows where they were, but she wondered if the Secret Service agents who had quit did so after she went missing and the stories got around about why, or whether it was earlier, a response to Pierre punching one of them and firing the rest after the incident in Paris, when Raphael had been shot.

“Have you been getting paid?” Quentin asked Aiden.

“Of course. You thinkI would volunteer to stop a bullet for him if you weren’t paying me?”

“Let’s go through payroll then and get your employee number. We can add you to the duty roster manually with that.” Quentin tapped on the tablet that he held in his other hand. “That’s weird, Tristan. There’s no record of you in payroll, either. Not even from before the unfortunate incident. Are you sure you’re—”

Aiden droppedhis tablet and sprinted out of the throne room.

“Stop him!” Quentin shouted and raced after him.

Flicka touched her chest as if she were surprised and horrified.

She stuck a foot out.

Mathys Vitale tripped over it, but the other Secret Service agents chased Aiden from the throne room.

Pierre turned on her. “We’ll get him. He can’t get out of the palace. When we do, he’ll tell us everythingabout the plan to take you out tonight, and we’ll be even better prepared than before.”

Flicka stared back at him, keeping herself calm. “If that’s what happens, then it happens. I have an appointment in five minutes to have my make-up done. Good afternoon, Pierre. I’ll see you for the first dance tonight, and then I’ll retire to my room for the night.”