The Bodyguard (Norcross #4) - Anna Hackett Page 0,43

to scan the large room.

Sofie started talking with some people, but soon a blonde woman stepped up to the microphone at the front of the room.

“Welcome to the Stevens Charity luncheon.” The woman had a fancy British accent. “I’m Chantal Lockwood, your host for today’s event. We’re extremely happy to support the Victoria Foundation and the Glittering Court jewelry exhibition. I am very honored to welcome our special guest and a friend of mine, Princess Sofia of Caldova.” There was a round of applause.

Chantal Lockwood smiled at Sofie and Sofie waved.

“Please, take your seats and enjoy the luncheon,” Chantal said.

Sofie leaned into Rome. “Here we go.”

He followed her to the head table. He held the chair out as she greeted the other guests.

“Sofia, you look wonderful.” Chantal Lockwood swept forward in a cloud of perfume and kissed both of Sofie’s cheeks. “You always do.”

“As do you, Chantal. Well done on today, the place looks fabulous.”

“All the better for raising lots of money for our charities.” Chantal squeezed Sofie’s arm. “Enjoy.”

After Sofie sat and Rome leaned over her shoulder. “I’ll be to your left.” He nodded his head.

She glanced at the grand columns off to the side and nodded.

“Have fun,” he said.

She turned her head, shooting him a warm look. “I’ll be counting down until it’s over and we can get out of here.”

The look in her eye told him exactly what she was thinking about.

Hell. He fought the urge to touch her. He headed to the spot near the columns where he could watch.

The luncheon started, uniformed servers bringing out fancy plates with fancy-looking food on them. There were some speeches on the various endeavors of the charities. Everyone wanted to talk with Sofie. She shook hands, smiled, chatted.

As the food was served, there was a talk on the history of royal jewelry from some expert. They referenced the famous tiara that Sofie would wear to the gala.

Rome scowled. Wearing a tiara like that was like painting a goddamned target on her.

He still had that bad vibe. He scanned around. Those fucking flowers had unsettled him. He scrutinized everyone—the guests, the waitstaff, the charity organizers.

“My God, we need help!”

He glanced sideways down the row of columns and through some glass doors into a side room. A man had collapsed on the tiles, and a frantic middle-aged woman was crouched over him.

She looked at Rome. “Help him!”

Rome didn’t move. He spied the closest server. “Hey, there’s a medical emergency.”

The young man jerked, almost spilling the drinks on his tray, then spotted the fallen man. “Oh, God. I’ll get help.” The man raced away.

Rome looked back at Sofia. She was still chatting, but he saw that some of the tables closest had heard the ruckus.

He met Sofie’s gaze and gave her a slow nod. She relaxed, and turned back to her table.

Then he sensed a presence behind him. Something sharp jabbed into the back of his jacket. A knife. Fuck.

“Should have helped the guy,” a man drawled. “Then we would’ve taken you down the easy way, without an audience.”

“I don’t go down easy.” Adrenaline spiked in Rome. He breathed through it. He’d been trained how to use it.

Sofie. He wouldn’t let them have her.

Rome whirled. He swung at the man, but the guy dodged. They rammed into each other, shoving for advantage.

Rome felt a flash of the knife at his side, cutting through his jacket and shirt.

Fuck.

Suddenly, the woman who’d been crouched over the fallen man leaped onto Rome’s back, wrapping an arm around his throat.

Screams broke out in the restaurant. People had noticed the fight.

Rome prayed that Sofie stuck to the plan he’d drilled into her.

He rammed the woman into a column. He saw the man who’d collapsed was rising. He looked perfectly fine.

Rome grabbed the woman over his shoulder and tried to pry her loose.

“Who are you assholes?” he growled.

“Nobody,” the woman said. “We were just paid to keep you busy.”

His gut knotted. Suddenly, the screaming increased. Rome turned and saw smoke rising in the center of the tables.

Dammit, smoke grenades.

In the chaos, he found Sofie. She looked worried, her face pale. She took a step toward him, but he shook his head.

The woman on his back shifted, and then Rome felt a prick in the side of his neck.

Fucking hell. He managed to rip the woman off and threw her. She hit the first attacker and they collapsed to the floor in a tangle.

Dizziness hit him. His legs weakened and he went down on one knee. The smoke was