Page 79 of The Unlikely Spare

“It also exposes Prince Nicholas to further danger,” I say, my voice sharp. And fuck it, my cover as a standard protection officer is going to pieces faster than wet cardboard. But every time someone suggests putting Nicholas in danger, something raw in my gut overrides my years of training.

I might as well tattooemotionally compromisedon my forehead at this rate.

Nicholas turns to me, one eyebrow raised. “Are you suggesting my security team isn’t up to the task, Officer O’Connell?”

“I’m suggesting that unnecessary risk is still unnecessary, sir.” I match his gaze steadily.

“The very nature of my position involves risk,” Nicholas says. “Always has, always will. The question is whether we let that risk dictate our actions.”

“The Queen has authorized me to make the final determination based on this briefing,” the Lord Chamberlain cuts in. “I need a consensus from the security team. Can Prince Nicholas’s safety be reasonably assured in New Zealand?”

Cavendish glances around at all of us before answering. “With significant adjustments to our protocols and fullcooperation from New Zealand authorities…yes. It’s a calculated risk, but manageable.”

Sir Fergus nods slowly. “And the medical team has cleared the Prince to travel?”

“Minor contusions and abrasions only,” James confirms.

Nicholas sits back in his chair, the faintest hint of a triumphant smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The same mouth I claimed so thoroughly just hours ago. The taste of him lingers on my lips, like a ghost I can’t exorcise.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Very well,” Sir Fergus says. “The tour will continue with enhanced security measures. We’ll brief Her Majesty accordingly.”

The meeting dissolves into logistics after that. Travel arrangements, security details, press statements.

Throughout it all, I’m painfully aware of every shift in Nicholas’s posture, every tap of his fingers against the table. His voice as he contributes to the security discussions is sharp and focused, not the lazy royal playboy drawl he often hides behind.

It’s like watching someone finally play with a full deck after pretending they only had half the cards.

And it only makes me want him more. I can admit this want to myself now, acknowledge it for the threat it is. The want has teeth, clawing at my ribs from the inside.

This isn’t just attraction anymore—it’s a full-blown fucking disaster.

What happens in New Zealand? What happens the next time we’re alone?

The questions chase each other through my mind like wolves after prey.

As the meeting wraps up, Nicholas is the first to rise. The other officials scramble to their feet like startled birds, butNicholas doesn’t wait for their deference. He simply nods once to Sir Fergus on screen, then turns for the door.

His eyes catch mine for a split second as he passes. That blue gaze carries an electric charge that makes my fingers twitch with the memory of his skin under my hands.

Then he’s gone.

I wait a respectable five minutes before making my own exit.

My hotel room feels like a sanctuary when I finally shut the door behind me. I lean against it as if it might actually keep the world at bay.

As if it might undo the choices I’ve made today and their unseeable consequences.

My phone buzzes, Malachy’s face appearing on the screen.

I grab at it. It’s a chance for some normality, a chance to remind myself who I am.

“You alive then?” Malachy demands the moment I answer, no greeting whatsoever.

“Last I checked.”