Page 12 of Some Like It Scandalous (Going Royal #2)
Armand
H e hadn’t expected to fall asleep and he’d even less expected her to stay there.
But the crick in his neck and the cramp in his back were well worth the trouble—especially when he found her sound asleep next to him, her bare feet still resting in his lap and beneath his hands.
If only the peace of that moment extended to three hours later in the meeting with his head of security.
“We’ve gone over this, Anna. Peterson can’t secure your office—not in its current location.” He glanced at his security chief. The man nodded, his solemn expression adding gravity to the statement.
“His Highness is correct, Miss Novak. It would take us a week to complete the threat assessment properly, install a new system and bulletproof glass. The parking structure is not secure, so we would have to invest in more security for your vehicle—though we could handle transport ourselves. Either way, the threat ratio is not in your favor.” The man laid it out, cleanly and without bias.
The disappointment on Anna’s face, however, tugged at Armand’s heart.
“However—and this is just a suggestion.” Arresting his need—and habit—to take over took some forethought.
He’d considered the options all morning, when he wasn’t staring at her eating or drinking or just breathing. “The fourteenth floor is available.”
“I’m sorry, what?” She pulled her attention back to the meeting and focused on him. The weariness in her expression smoothed, the invisible barrier, the curtain that seemed to have dropped between them for so brief a time the night before, firmly in place again.
“The fourteenth floor.” He repeated and tapped two fingers against the tabletop.
“It’s unoccupied and has about three thousand square feet of office space available and another thousand square feet for a security office.
The building is secure, it won’t take us long to arrange for the entire office to be moved here. ”
Resistance flared in her gaze, but she merely nodded. “That is a generous offer, Armand.” She moistened her lips. “But it’s a great deal of trouble to go to—particularly to pay for such a large space.”
He smiled at the use of his name. It didn’t carry the same affection as Charlie or the same depth of meaning, but it was far preferable to “Your Highness.”
“It really is no trouble at all. We own the building and I would be delighted to donate the floor to the cause.”
“A floor in this tower would serve better, Miss Novak.” Peterson didn’t require any encouragement to pile on. “The building is secure, the garage is secure and we have a full-time rotating staff, which means your on-duty detail wouldn’t be stretched?—”
“My on-duty what?” She whipped her gaze over to pin the security chief. “I have a detail? Isn’t that…going too far?”
“No, ma’am. A standard detail of five will be assigned to you, led by Johnson.” He nodded to the tall man who arranged to have her picked up at her house.
Anna rubbed her forehead and dropped her gaze to the table. “Would you all excuse us, please?”
Peterson glanced at him for permission. Armand nodded and the men filed out. He forced himself to lean back in the chair rather than reach across and touch her hand. “You okay?”
“No.” She looked up and a smile strained the lines around her mouth. “No, I’m not.”
He sat forward and reached a hand across to her.
She stared at it and then him before sliding her cold fingers against his palm.
“You’re freezing.” Squeezing her hand, he rose, releasing her only long enough to walk around and strip off his suit coat.
He claimed the chair next to her and draped the coat around her shoulders.
Capturing her hands again, he rubbed them lightly.
“Do you live like this? All the time? Security details? Threat assessments?”
He shrugged. Telling her a lie might ease the worry and tension from her face, but…
“You get used to it. There have always been threats against my family. At one time, there was even a bounty on my grandfather’s head.
The communist regime at the time wanted to stifle any more tales of the family’s return to Mother Russia. ”
“Yeah, that’s not comforting.” But she smiled and the soft curve to her lips beckoned him. It took everything in him to walk away the day before, but as much as he’d already botched their reunion, he refused to let anger spoil it.
“It wasn’t meant to be comforting—it’s hard to let others take over these areas—but it’s essential for your safety.” Her fingers continued to tremble in his grip. It was damn hard not to just pull her close. “What can I do to make this easier for you?”
Her mouth twisted, but the smile didn’t fade. “Well, you’re not making fun of me—that’s a good start.”
“When have I ever made fun of you?” Askance, he raised both eyebrows.
“When I wanted to backpack across Europe. When I took that theory class from Doctor Ramuesen…oh and when I picked up that wardrobe at the garage sale. You laughed at me for four hours.” Her nose wrinkled, but the strain around her eyes eased.
He burst out laughing. “You hated walking across campus and you planned to sling on a pack and walk across Europe? Not to mention, have you ever stayed in a hostel? The smell is pretty bad.”
“Fine. Maybe I wouldn’t have done as well with Europe.” She snorted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
“And Dr. Ramuesen was a whackjob with a pen. His idea of diplomacy was to close borders based on language—only those with similar languages were bound to understand the other side, translators be damned.” He still chuckled but shook his head.
“The man wouldn’t know diplomacy if it bit him in the ass.
He was turned down by the U.S. State Department four times and if I recall, you were furious at his grade for your midterm paper. ”
“Because he gave me a C when I pointed out the flaws in the Treaty of Versailles based on his law of language.” Outrage sparkled amid the laughter in her eyes and her hand tightened on his.
“Wholly undeserved.” He soothed. “Though, you finished the class even if you disliked him.”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I still have the wardrobe.”
“That ugly behemoth?” He couldn’t bottle the words before they popped out. She tipped her head at him and gave him a sly smile.
“It wasn’t ugly. It had—has character.”
Doubtful, he stared at her.
“Okay, fine. It’s ugly as sin, and it weighs five tons, but I like it.” She made a face and he laughed, allowing himself the barest of touches down her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“You love it and that’s why I didn’t argue when you insisted on moving it into the bedroom…”
“Oh God.” Her eyes rounded, then she grimaced.
“What?” A quick glance around the room showed they were still alone.
“I made your security guys carry it up the stairs.”
He laughed again. “They didn’t mind.”
“Of course they did—they complained about how heavy it was and I gave away your fancy European lager to pay for it.”
It was his turn to grimace. “ That I know. I came home from class to find it all gone and Eddie toasted me with his that night.”
She giggled, a delicious, girly, youthful titter, and the rock on his chest rolled to the side. “This is weird.” She withdrew her hands and he hated it, but he let her go. She wasn’t so pale or so cold, warmth flushed her cheeks.
“I don’t know—it feels pretty normal to me.” Seductively normal—they used to have conversations like this all the time. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He rose and held a hand out to her. She’d barely eaten breakfast.
They could definitely use the distraction before he picked her up to cuddle away the fears.
Patience, however, was not the virtue he wanted to embrace at the moment.
She stared at his hand for a heartbeat longer than made him happy, but she took it and he tugged her to her feet.
Interlacing his fingers with hers, he led the way toward the kitchen, but she pulled back and he halted.
“What?”
“We should give them an answer so they don’t stand out there in the hall waiting for us to call them back in.” She turned toward the door and he went with her rather than letting her pull away. She opened the door and peeked out.
“Your Highness, Miss Novak.” Peterson glanced up from his phone.
“Mr. Peterson, if we’re going to be working together, would you mind just calling me Anna?” She didn’t like titles—amusing considering how often she threw his in his face. But he squelched the thought.
“Of course, Miss Anna. Have you reached a decision?” Peterson didn’t miss a beat, the man accepted the invitation and took them right back to business.
It was why Armand put him in charge of his U.S.
security forces. He was damn good at his job after nearly two decades in law enforcement and a stint with the FBI.
“Yes. The fourteenth floor would be lovely—if it will be less trouble for all of you.” She smiled and it lit her whole face up. Armand squashed the first lick of jealousy that his security chief earned that expression before he did.
“Absolutely. We’ll take care of it. It will only take a couple of days. We’ll start with background checks on the staff so we can get them in immediately?—”
“Would you mind if we went down to see the space?” Anna didn’t look at him, but when Peterson did, her jaw tightened.
Nodding his assent, Armand followed all of them into the hall and to the elevator.
Peterson touched a finger to his ear. “Lock down the fourteenth.”
Anna folded her arms but made no attempt to remove his jacket.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, Armand watched her silent, stiff frame for the duration of the elevator ride.
The doors opened to the freshly refurbished floor.
He had to touch her arm to keep her from exiting before Johnson and Peterson.
Her lips thinned and he dropped the contact with a sweeping motion to allow her to precede him.