Page 8 of Some Like It Scandalous (Going Royal #2)

Armand

“ I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.

” Richard said quietly, though Anna was still engrossed with the other attorneys, going over some of the finer points in the initial grant papers.

Armand had abandoned the meeting about halfway through to review the threat with Peterson.

His security chief deemed it credible, and it followed the same pattern as the others they’d received in the last six months.

“That makes two of us.” He’d stopped drinking coffee two hours before—the jittery restlessness in his blood had nothing to do with caffeine. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” Richard kept his back to the others, but he didn’t bother to disguise the censure in his tone “What were you thinking?”

“Why do you and she both assume I told the reporter?” It was a disgruntled complaint, but he gave his best friend a dour look anyway.

“Because we’re not idiots. There wasn’t even a sniff of this in the gossip columns before this morning—and you hadn’t set eyes on her—physically—in ten years.

Then, the day after you invite her to your office and have me jump through legal hoops to get the scholarship fund reallocated, she is suddenly the scoop of the year? Yeah—it’s a fair question.”

Armand sighed, his gaze on Anna. She studiously avoided looking at him. In fact, she’d ignored him throughout the meeting—answering and asking questions of everyone save him. Fortunately, her tone also chilled when she addressed Richard.

At least he wasn’t alone in exile.

“You said use being a prince to my advantage. But I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t.” And when he got his hands on the person who gave her name to the press… His only regret lay in the fact he couldn’t order a head to roll.

“Well, this is not an advantage,in case you were wondering.” Despite his dry humor, Richard didn’t bother to disguise his low opinion—one of the reasons their friendship withstood the test of time, distance and press coverage.

They fell into a rhythm during their freshman year and they stayed there.

Still, the fracas had given him an opportunity. “Rick, I’m furious about the press, but it doesn’t change the fact I wanted to see her?—”

“Eh, you’ve seen her.” Richard’s brows climbed.

“And seeing her dumped her ass right into the fire before she even made it to the frying pan. She’s been served her up like so much chum to the sharks.

They’re going to trot out every single affair you’ve ever had.

They are going to publicly compare her to every woman they think you’ve had in your bed.

No, my friend, this is a cluster fuck and a half.

If she doesn’t geld you before this is over, I’ll be surprised. ”

“Whose side are you on?” Irritation scraped over his nerves.

“Yours. But this is a mess, Armand.” Richard sighed.

“I’m aware of that fact.” Violently aware.

No one had to tell him how bad the situation could be.

The press smelled scandal—and they had her name.

The leak had already produced one threat.

“But she reacted—she was angry and she wasn’t cold.

For a minute there…it was like we were us again.

” She mentioned Nikole. She knew about her—which means she paid attention.

Maybe it was petty to hope for a little jealousy. It meant she cared—on some level she still cared. Or maybe they already highlighted Nikole on the news this morning.

He ignored the snide mental voice taunting him.

“Pissing her off is not going to get you back into her bed.” Richard poured a couple of drinks and glanced over at the table. The others wrapped it up, rising and shaking Anna’s hand one at a time. “You have to tell her, you know.”

“I know.” Impatient at the advice, he blew out a breath. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her.

“All right, we’re going to get out of here. Call me if you need someone to punch you out of another bad idea.” He pressed the drinks into Armand’s hands. “Do both of you a favor, and give her this before you tell her. It might dull the shock.”

Richard strode across the room and ushered the others out. Anna didn’t spare him more than a polite nod. When the door closed, Armand walked over and held the drink out to her.

She shot him a doubtful look. “It’s barely lunchtime. A little early for that, don’t you think?”

“No. We need to talk.”

“I think we’ve said enough today, Your Highness. ” She continued packing her papers back into the briefcase. “I also think I have enough to complete the grant application—so we won’t need the whole week.”

“Anna. I screwed up. I did something stupid and impulsive and now you’re coping with the backlash from that. I’m sorry.” Endangering her had never been his intention, he’d simply wanted to see her again.

She went still. He worried for a moment that she hadn’t heard him. “Thank you.” She swallowed. “And—it’s okay. It will blow over.”

Her easy acceptance startled him. “No. That’s why I am sorry—it won’t be as easy as that.”

“Your—” Her lips compressed and she blew out a breath. “Armand, it’ll be fine. Sure they’re hungry for a story now, but if we don’t give them anything more, it will go away. I’ve seen you do it any number of times over the years.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest. She’d watched him, kept up with him over the years. He wanted to hold on to that thought before regret and reality crashed in on them.

And she’d said his name.

“This is different.” He set the drinks down on the table and put his hands on the back of a chair. “You’re different.”

“Yeah, I’m not actually sleeping with you.” She straightened another set of papers, started to slide them in the case. “Do you want a copy of these notes?”

Her hands trembled, but she moved another stack of papers to the side and wiped a palm against her slacks. He made her nervous. He let go of the chair—laid a hand over hers. “Anna…I need you to listen to me.”

She didn’t jerk away.

Small step, but he would take it.

“I am listening to you. I can walk and chew gum at the same time.” She gave his hand a light smack and he let her go, the gesture so familiar it made his heart hurt. No one ever slapped his hands—not like she did.

Powering down her laptop and packing it was her last step. He waited until she was done, enjoying watching her. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she looked up at him. “I’m still listening, but you’re not saying anything.”

“What would you say if I asked you to stay here in the penthouse—for a few days?” He hedged his bets. Maybe she would agree.

And maybe purple porcines will stand up and claim the world for Orwell.

“I’d ask you what year you thought it was.” The droll response was so her, he couldn’t help but smile. Unfortunately, none of this was funny.

“I know it’s only been a few hours since the story broke, but…

My security intercepted a very credible threat.

It’s become something of a problem in the past few months for the family.

” He could broach the most difficult of topics with oil barons, kings, and presidents—why did he struggle so when talking to her?

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The kindness in her expression spoke volumes about her character. She may not even be aware of just how rare it was to feel compassion amid outrage and anger—anger he wholly deserved. “But I hardly see why that leads to that invitation.”

“It’s not an invitation.” He braced himself for the oncoming storm.

She would not like his next words. “In fact, that was a polite way of telling you that you need to stay here for a few days. The tower is very secure. We have security in the lobby, in the parking garage and on three floors below us. No one comes up to this level without security in attendance?—”

She held up a palm. “You’re babbling. I understand the security. I saw them and appreciated you sending your men to pick me up. But I’m not staying here.”

“Yes. You are.” He circled the table and caught her before she could pull away from him. She curled her hands into little fists, but he held them gently. “Anna, the threats against my family have increased in the last few months. This morning we received one for you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Armand sighed. He wanted to keep holding her hands, forget the ugly reality that had become his life and tug her over to the sofa and sit down.

He wanted to pull her in his lap and interrogate her.

Hear about the last ten years—talk like they used to.

He wanted that and more—but not at the cost of a knife to her throat.

“Sit down? Talk to me awhile and I will explain everything, I promise.”

“No. No.” She pulled away from him. “Look, this is an impossible situation and I’ve tried to be professional and mature and adult.

But you’re taking this too far—we’re not together.

We’re not getting back together and ACE can chat it up all they like, but the difference between fantasy and reality is that happily ever after exists in novels and this is not one. ”

Easing her into this wasn’t an option. “Five.”

She blinked. “Five what?”

“Five attempts. In the last six months, there have been five assassination attempts on members of the immediate family. Two car bombings, one aborted shooting and a poisoning.”

All the color in her cheeks fled. “That’s four…”

“The fifth was a little more personal. A knife attack. Sebastian is still recovering.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She sat abruptly and he pulled out a chair, turning it so he could sit facing her.

“How close?” She swallowed. “You said you and your family—how many of those were you? And why hasn’t it been in the news?”