Her Cowboy Prince - Madeline Ash Page 0,76

a carrot on a string is clever. My commendations.”

“I’m not being clever.” Her words came out hoarse with fury.

He smirked.

“I’m being professional.”

“As you’ve ever been, Frankie.” He glanced up at the palace, glowing in all its majesty. “I hadn’t realized you’d set your sights on building a career out of a single con. What a grand plan. Who better to know the lies and secrets of the royal family than head of security? That kind of information is a one-way ticket to unlimited power. And on the arm of your prince? You’ll have it all.”

He took in a long breath, lungs swelling in pride as he looked back at her.

“No doubt you’ve got it all worked out,” he continued, inching closer. “Does he believe you’re saving yourself until marriage? The wedding must be around the corner. I doubt he could hold out much longer. Then you’ll have access to the royal account. The vaults. And if something went missing occasionally, who could possibly question you when you have their dirty laundry in a basket ready to go?”

“I’m not—” Confused, she bit down on her outrage. This didn’t make sense. He couldn’t honestly believe she’d planned all this. She’d run away from him. Tonight, she’d turned her back on him, desperate not to be seen. How could he possibly believe she’d—

Oh.

The conniving bastard.

He knew they weren’t alone. He knew Kris was waiting around the corner and overhearing every word. Her father wasn’t congratulating her on her skills or exquisite scheme. He was speaking to discredit her and get her booted from the position she’d worked so hard to achieve—to tear her from the heart of a good man.

He was shoving her into the dirt, his heel digging firmly into her back, because she’d had the nerve to run away from him.

“Fuck you,” she said, voice shaking.

His brows shot up. “Watch that mouth, girl. What did I tell you about playing with powerful men? They don’t like eating out of the gutter.”

Shame burned her throat at how she’d once followed that advice. She’d once spoken as if her words were fresh as spring water—and the Burberry boy had practically licked her mouth clean. Then her shame became horror at the light scuff that came from behind them.

Kris had come out of hiding.

Her dad’s look of surprise was masterful.

“Frankie?” Kris spoke her name quietly.

Chest tight, limbs shaking, she angled her face back at him.

Kris was expressionless as he stared at her. “What’s going on here?”

In a kind of numb dread, she said, “He was waiting for me.”

“I know,” he said, voice hollow. “But what’s he talking about?”

“Nothing.” She was trembling, panic alive beneath her skin. “He’s trying to—”

“I’m Kris,” he said, moving to stand between them, his attention fixed on her father. “Prince Kristof.”

“Your Highness.” Her father’s bow was smooth. “What an honor.”

Kris waved off the formality, features somber. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Oh.” Her father feigned shock, shooting Frankie a swift glance and raising his palms. “I’m sure you misunderstand, Your Highness. It was a joke about her previous line of work. It’s been, oh, years since she’s ever done anything like that.”

Kris stared at him for several long seconds.

“You’re right,” he murmured.

Her father blinked. “Pardon?”

“As I said, I couldn’t help but overhear.” Kris shifted his stance, bringing himself beside Frankie. His elbow brushed hers as he faced her father. “We all know I’m new to this position, but it sure sounded like you were proposing that she exploit the royal family. I might not know the intricacies of treason, but extortion sounds a bit close for comfort.”

Her father’s features grew slack.

Frankie’s pulse stuttered.

“You were suggesting that she use her position to gather sensitive information on me and my family,” Kris said, shaking his head slowly. “You were practically advising her to use that information as blackmail in order to steal from us. That sounds treasonous to me.”

“You misunder—”

“I know what I heard.” Kris cut him off with a raised hand. “Perhaps a different witness might have their credibility doubted, but I’m a Prince of Kiraly and I unmistakably heard you plot against the royal family.” He turned to Frankie, features hard with insult. “You should decide what we do with him—though I think we could delay charges and see whether he can prove to be an upstanding citizen.”

Frankie and her father both stared at him, incredulous.

“For instance,” Kris continued, “if anyone asks him whether he has a daughter, and whether he could tell them about her, he would prove himself upstanding

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