‘YOU READY?’
Hugo hadn’t known it was possible to nod and shake your head at the same time, but Cassie had just perfected the move. And the sight amplified his guilt.
The similarity to Sara had been disconcerting before...with their public-facing roles, controlling families, lack of freedom. Poised yet shy. Quiet yet teasing. Kind too.
And to find himself in this position again.
With Sara it had been his fault. He’d thought their love worth outing, worth fighting for, and then he’d almost got her killed.
With Cassie, he had taken her already troubled situation and piled on a whole heap more. And Cassie was right, it wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t make the situation any better.
And he was determined to make it better.
He was determined that this time, he would get it right.
He would see to it that she was okay. That she would come out of this situation better for knowing him. Not worse.
‘It’s going to be okay.’ He took hold of her hand. ‘We have the best security detail looking out for us. A path has been cleared and all you have to do is smile and wave.’
‘All?’ She gave a tremulous smile, touched her free hand to the braid that fell over one shoulder. It looked simple but he’d warrant she’d spent hours making sure she’d perfected the casual look this morning. The pale pink sweater complemented her English rose complexion. The skinny jeans, knee-high boots, tailored coat and beret gave off every bit the Princess on tour vibe, whether she wanted to or not. Because she had a regal air about her that was all natural. Something her family and the Duponts would have bled dry.
‘Or you could do the classic?’ he said, pushing away the thoughts that would have seen his fingers crushing hers.
‘And what’s that?’
‘Pretend they’re all naked.’
She laughed. ‘I thought that was a presentation technique.’
He shrugged. ‘Whatever works, right? And once we arrive at the Louvre you will only have eyes for the museum and the architecture anyway.’
Vincent stepped forward. ‘The car is ready, Monsieur Chevalier, Princess.’
Cassie’s hand tensed around his. He knew she hated the title. But he also knew it was going to take time for the world to drop it. She was their beloved princess, whether she wanted to be referred to as such or not. If she could only see that it came from a place of affection rather than being a cold-hearted stereotype.
No matter the names being thrown about, the slander coming out of the palace, and the trouble Prince Georges was determined to stir up following that photograph. It would take more to ruin the woman most of the world at large adored.
And Hugo would do his best to see to it that they continued to adore her.
By fulfilling this role for as long as she required it.
He’d done some extra digging into the Prince of Sérignone, and the more he’d learnt, the more his protective instincts had kicked in. The idea that the Prince had once had any claim over her riled him enough. The fact he now dared to ruin her from afar to save his own face...
Hugo fought the tension coiling through him anew. But the deceit it took to behave like so, the duplicity and the cowardice too. The nerve of the man to transfer his own crimes onto her.
‘Hugo?’ Her soft prompt brought him back to his senses.
‘Shall we?’ He released her hand to offer out his elbow, and she gave him the coy smile the cameras knew well. The smile he knew to be as genuine as she was because she was nervous, but she wasn’t backing down. The nod she gave him now devoid of its contradictory shake.
‘Let’s go.’
They stepped through the revolving door together and the wall of noise instantly upped, threatening to press them back. He’d anticipated it, of course he had, though nothing could have prepared him for the reality. And though he had worked in the field many years ago, this felt different. But then it was different. This was personal.
And for a split second, he was in another country, another place, another time. And there was another woman beside him. A cold sweat broke out across his skin, the world closed in. Cameras were going off. Blending with the shouts.
A gun. A man.
He turned.
Left. Right. Ahead. Bang!
‘Boss.’ It was the driver in his earpiece, grounding him in the present. ‘Are you good?’
Focus. Focus.
His people were doing their job; they were keeping the crowd back. The car was straight ahead. Everything was good. They were waiting for Cassie and him to deliver the agreed smile, a wave, and then he ushered her into the car.
‘Are you okay?’ He didn’t waste a second to ask.
‘Are you?’ She blinked up at him. Concern glittering in a sea of green. The black interior all around and the smell of leather, a reassuring cocoon.
‘You think to ask me that?’
‘I’m used to this, but you...’
He checked her seat belt was secure before fastening his own. ‘I know this scene well enough.’
‘They were calling your name as much as mine.’
They were also ‘name-calling,’ but he didn’t feel the need to point that out. Not when she could hear it for herself. And though those names were only few and far between, they were the ones that would’ve landed the loudest and the hardest.
‘Drive on,’ he urged their driver, his chest too tight for comfort.
‘It wasn’t as bad as I feared.’
His eyes snapped to hers. ‘No?’
Was she mad? Delirious or on something?
She smiled up at him. ‘No. Though you’re making me question myself now.’
Yes! He mentally cursed. Get a hold of yourself. You were the one taking a trip down memory lane. Not her. Dieu Merci.
‘You were exceptional.’ He righted his jacket, gave a brusque nod and a smile. ‘As calm and as regal as a—’
‘Don’t say it, please.’
‘Désolé. You took it in your stride, Cassie. No one will have known that inside you were feeling any different... I’m glad you found it okay.’
‘That’s because you were there.’
She met his eyes, her own big and wide, her vulnerability genuine and tugging on his heartstrings. Strings he never left exposed. Not since Sara—
And that’s why you’re freaking out now. And you’re supposed to be making her feel better. Not worse.
‘You and your team.’
He took her hand in his once more and gave it a squeeze.
‘Good, because you’re stuck with us for the foreseeable.’
He held her gaze as the vehicle pulled away from the hotel, the camera flashes hammering against the blackout glass and the noise of the reporters muffled by the whirring in his ears. She truly was stunning. Her smile, her eyes, her trust in him...
He had this...didn’t he?
He could keep her safe and give her a glimpse of the life she deserved.
And what about you? And your heart? And those strings you never leave exposed?
It was a short drive to the Louvre. Nowhere near long enough to ease the tension that had built throughout his body with the flashback that had come from nowhere. But he forced himself to appear at ease for her sake.
Now he just had to hope all went smoothly, because he sensed that his skittish kitten was only one pit bull away from scurrying back to Louis’s and he was determined to see this day through. The first of many outings he had planned if all went well...
As for his own tension, he’d deal with that later. If he had to go ten rounds in the ring with Mickie, he’d do whatever it took to exorcise that demon once again.
And be there for Cassie now.
Cassie had felt the impenetrable shield form around her the moment they had left the hotel.
And for someone who had spent years behind a security detail, indeed being directed by one, this felt different. And she knew that was down to Hugo. Something about this great big bear of a man, with warm eyes and a strong sense of honour, made her feel like nothing could hurt her.
No camera flash or threat from afar. No snide remark or snarky look.
Never had her family or the Prince made her feel quite so invincible.
With her head held high, she walked the grounds and the halls of the Louvre, in awe of its beauty and its art. Its history and its majesty. And it was wonderful. To breathe in the air and the space and be amongst the people too.
They’d even paused and conversed with a few groups. Taken an extended break when Cassie hadn’t been able to resist a group of children who had likened Hugo to a real-life superhero. And he’d spent at least twenty minutes ‘flexing’ his muscles to whatever feat they had devised. Something their teacher had indulged since they were on their lunch break. Though Cassie got the impression it had more to do with Maîtresse’s pleasure than the children.
‘I think she liked you...’
‘Huh?’
‘The teacher...are you blushing Hugo?’
‘Non.’
She paused, forcing him and his team to pause too as she peered up at him. ‘Yes, you are.’
‘I do not blush.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Whatever you say, but for the record, I’m more than happy to share the limelight.’
And he chortled at that, clearly pleased to have her so at ease.
Because she was at ease. Surprisingly so.
She couldn’t care that the headlines that morning had been less than kind. That they had smacked of the Prince’s skilled spin doctors. She was living in the moment, thanks to him. And the more she thought about his whole idea, the rules of supply and demand, it really did make sense.
‘This really is wonderful, Hugo. Truly. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Now, are you hungry?’
Was she? She hadn’t thought about food at all. Her senses were too busy being overloaded by the sights, sounds, and scents of Paris, having spent the last month cooped up in Louis’s apartment. But she must be.
It had been many hours since breakfast—a coffee and the smallest dollop of yogurt on fruit had been all she could manage with the nervous churn, courtesy of the headlines.
‘I reckon I could eat.’
‘That’s lucky.’
‘Lucky?’
To their left, a grand doorway had been roped off and a liveried footman bowed his head to them both.
She frowned. ‘Hugo, what’s this?’
‘I believe it is the location for dinner.’
‘In the Louvre? But the restaurant is back...’
‘I thought you might enjoy some privacy for our meal.’
‘But I thought the whole point was to give them more and they will demand less?’
‘But I’m also a firm believer in balance. There will be a gazillion photos from this morning, Cassie. Now this is for you.’
He placed his hand in the small of her back, and she caught the sudden gasp that wanted to escape. It wasn’t like his hand was hot. Or that she could feel his palm’s heat through her coat, the cashmere of her sweater or the silk of her camisole but she felt it.
‘This?’ The question was more breath than spoken word.
‘You’ll see...’
He led her through the door that was now being held open to them. A classical tune played softly through some invisible sound system, and inside, the rich red walls created an intimate backdrop for the table that had been lavishly laid out for two with a gold candelabra adorned with white roses at its heart. And to the side, glass cabinets had been rolled in on wheels, each displaying pieces of art.
She sent him a questioning look, unable to form a word.
‘When you’ve worked in the hospitality industry for as long as I have, you build up an extensive contact list...and the odd favour or two.’
‘This was a favour?’
He didn’t reply, only smiled as she made her way over to one of the cabinets. Hand to her throat because she couldn’t believe any of this was real. That Hugo had organised this. It was too much. Too sweet. Too thoughtful.
‘I arranged for them to be brought from the Prints and Drawings Study Room. They can only be viewed by appointment anyway, and I thought...well, enjoy.’
She looked down and gave a soft chuckle. ‘The Gallery of Fashion by Heideloff... You brought these here.’
He came up behind her. ‘Not me personally...’
She gave him the elbow. ‘Funny.’
‘Like I already told you, I don’t know much about fashion, but a quick search of the Louvre brought up this collection, and I thought since we’re here, it might inspire you with your work and...’
He leaned over her shoulder to take a closer look, his warmth, his masculine woody scent enveloping her as he did so. She felt her eyes threaten to close, the desire to savour the moment as ludicrous as it was real.
‘Though looking at them now, I can see how foolish that was.’
She forced her eyes to widen at his sarcasm, forced herself to take in the beauty of the drawings that were over two hundred years old. ‘Hugo! They’re of their time, but no less exquisite!’
‘Of their time? How you women managed to sit down let alone put one foot in front of the other in all those skirts is beyond me.’
‘But look how delicate they are, and who doesn’t love a good fan?’
He gave a soft chuckle.
‘You laugh, but back then a fan could convey a multitude of secret messages.’
‘Right,’ he drawled.
‘I’m serious! They weren’t just a beautiful accessory but a way of communicating with a lover or a would-be suitor...it could be as innocent as declaring your wish to stay friends or as ardent as “I love you”.’
She could feel her cheeks warm under his gaze, though she kept her own fixed on the images beneath the glass. They truly were beautiful.
‘Seems dangerously open to interpretation to me. I’m a literal man. You’ve got to tell me how it is.’
She laughed. ‘I’ll remember that—not that we’re...’
She let her words trail away with the background music as her blush deepened further. The effect of his body so close behind her, enough to make her feel like he was a furnace in full flame.
‘Monsieur. Madam. Dinner is ready if you are?’
An older gentleman entered the room and she sidestepped away, feeling oddly caught in the act. The act of what she wasn’t sure. Only that her blush made her look as guilty as she felt. But to have someone other than Hugo address her as something other than princess...to know that Hugo must have had a word...that he had done all of this for her too. She was walking on air and her smile filled her face.
‘Favours go a long way,’ Hugo whispered in her ear, his hot breath rushing through her veins as his thoughtfulness continued to warm her heart. ‘Henri, it is so good to see you again.’ Hugo swung away from her to greet him. His handshake and arm clutch the kind one would give an old friend, not an acquaintance delivering on a favour.
‘And you, sir. I trust everything is as you wanted.’
‘Impeccable, merci.’
She felt the older man’s curious gaze drift to her and she kept her gaze lowered. She was giving too much away. For a woman used to locking her true feelings and thoughts inside, this was definitely too much. But then she wasn’t used to someone doing such things for her. Such deep and meaningful things. And she felt overwhelmed. Tearful even.
‘And you’re sure you want us to leave the food to the side?’
‘Absolutely, Henri, we will serve ourselves. We have everything we need.’
And they did, because as the two men talked, another two delivered trolleys laden with food and drink. More than she and Hugo could ever hope to consume in their time here.
‘All we require now is privacy.’
‘And for that you have come to the right place.’
‘Thank you, Henri.’
Henri clipped his heels together and bowed. ‘Bon appetit, monsieur...madame.’
‘Merci,’ she managed to say with a shaky smile.
‘Do you want to help yourself while I pour us a drink?’ Hugo said, checking the labels on the bottles. ‘Would you like some wine or some champagne perhaps?’
‘Champagne would be lovely.’
Because it truly would. And, oh, my, she simpered on over to the exquisitely arranged trolley. What on earth was wrong with her? She was used to people going overboard to make her feel welcome when she visited establishments. To serve and to lavish her with the best they had to offer, but this was so different to all of that.
Just as Hugo’s protection felt different to all that had come before.
‘Are you okay?’
She sensed his frown rather than saw it, because for the life of her she couldn’t look at him. Not with the tears in her eyes, and the chaotic race of her thoughts and her feelings.
‘Of course. This is incredible, Hugo.’ She focused on filling her plate with all manner of delicacies, not that she saw a single one. ‘I’m just a little overcome, if I’m honest.’
‘But you must be used to such attention? I know you’re not used to serving yourself dinner but for the rest...’
She spun to face him. ‘No, Hugo!’ She placed the plate down before she dropped it, her entire body trembling as she shook her head. ‘I’m not used to any of this!’
He paled as he straightened from the table—champagne forgotten. ‘Cassie?’
‘I’m sorry! It’s just too sweet. Too thoughtful. Too—just too much! All of it. Georges knew my passion for fashion. And that rhymed and it wasn’t meant to rhyme.’ She gave a laugh that sounded as silly and as stupid and as ungracious as she suddenly felt. ‘But never would he have thought to arrange such a private viewing. So intimate and thoughtful and caring. Yet here you are, knowing me what—a few days? Whisking me up in this...all of this?’ She lifted an unsteady hand to gesture around her at the beauty of it all, her eyes misting over. ‘It is too much and yet it is wonderful, and I am so grateful and I am so sorry because I am not behaving like one who is grateful should.’
He was across the room in a heartbeat. His hands wrapped around hers. His body—tall, strong, and warm—before her. ‘Breathe, Cassie. Just breathe.’
She did as he commanded. Took a breath and another. Looked up into his eyes that were calm and steady and sure.
‘It’s okay. You are okay. Nothing can hurt you here. No one can hurt you here.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know how I can repay you for this—this kindness you have shown me.’
‘You insult me by suggesting that such an act requires payment. This has been a pleasure shared, Cassie. To see you leave that hotel room has been all the payment I need.’
‘But it is too much, all of this. You know I have no money of my own. Not yet.’
‘I care not for your money but your happiness.’
And there was such strength to those words, such warmth to his touch, his hands caressing her own, his body pressed so close to hers that she felt like she could combust on the spot and would still be the most deliriously happy person alive.
‘Apologies, Cassie, yet again I overstep.’ He broke away from her, so quickly she staggered back. ‘Please excuse me.’
She snatched his hand back, eager to reassure. Eager all the more to make him see that this was more on her than it was on him. It was her own insecurity, her own uncertainty about where her head was at, her life and her heart, to know what was and wasn’t okay.
Hell, her friends, those people that she could really trust, were few and far between, and he was so new and so dizzying in the way he made her feel, too.
Feelings that, if she was truly honest, she had no experience in understanding or trusting, let alone managing.
Especially when she feared that she was projecting those feelings onto him too.
‘There’s nothing to excuse...’ And leaning up on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was fleeting and barely there and very much driven on impulse. ‘Thank you, Hugo. For getting me out of the apartment and for all of this. Georges may bear the title, but as far as fairy tales go, you most definitely befit the role.’
And then she turned away before she said anything more revealing, did anything more revealing, and focused on the delicious spread of food to devour rather than the man.
Though, if she were given the freedom of choice, she knew in a heartbeat which would win.