by earlier? They’d recently spoken about spending their lives together—God, surely he wasn’t about to propose? Too soon, way too soon. Tension locked her jaw and she was halfway through planning her escape route before she got a hold of herself. Because this might be about her continuing to work for the royal guard—he’d mentioned that night in the tent that she could keep her position. Had he been advised otherwise? She should expect it. The partner of a king should be compassionate and virtuous—not combative and violent. Her gut churned as she remembered that just last night, walking the streets of Kiraly, she’d confessed to wanting a family of her own. Did he think now was as good a time as any to discuss producing heirs? Because it wasn’t. He should at least let her go for a run first, and chase that with several hard drinks.
Her alarm flared at the intensity of his stare, until she demanded, “What?”
He grinned. “Breakfast.”
Frankie emerged from his bathroom and suspected she finally understood why people went to day spas. She was used to handsy shower curtains and a vanity mirror that refused to show her head and torso at the same time, but Kris’s vast, cream-tiled bathroom offered every luxury. The showerhead had the circumference of a patio table, a silver lever had brought water cascading down a glass wall in a gushing waterfall and a small sweep of tiled steps descended to a pool the size of his palatial bed. She’d run her toes over the surface, vowing to put it to good use later, and dried herself with a towel as soft as powdered sugar. Lush indoor plants grew green in large pots and dripped from high tiled ledges, while the lighting was the holy grail of illumination, displaying her skin at its healthiest in the full-length mirror. There were no bags or blemishes in sight, and she decided she was happy to be fooled by such clever visual trickery.
Kris waited for her beside the bed, dressed in jeans and a green plaid shirt.
She froze at what he was holding.
“For you.” He quirked a brow and held the folded clothes out to her.
She didn’t move. “What’s that?”
“Your uniform.”
“Interesting.” She defaulted to an easy defense even though he’d see right through it. “Is it kink or a power trip to make me exhibit my lower status now that you’ve dominated me?”
Features tightening, he said, “Don’t even try it.”
She crossed her arms against the alarm pounding in her chest.
“You’ve never thought much of yourself, Frankie,” he said. “After everything you told me last night, I understand why. But it’s time to move on. You’re worthy of your title. You grew up scamming the streets, sure, but you earned this position. You’re head of personal security to my family and it’s time you accepted that. This uniform won’t push you further beneath me. It’ll bring you closer.” He extended it toward her again. “Wear it.”
The folded navy trousers and shirt had gold-edged seams. It would mark her as an official employee of the crown—signal her status above her team and most other palace staff. It would prove that she’d done what she’d dreamed of after graduating high school. Found a better life—become something good.
“It’s not part of a con,” Kris said. “It’s not a costume. You won’t be deceiving anyone. It’s you.”
She rolled her lips together and hated that she couldn’t stop staring at the neatly folded clothes. She wanted them so badly.
“You deserve to be here.” He didn’t move closer, but she sensed he wanted to. “Not just with me, or because of me. You deserve this in your own right. If we’d never met, you’d still deserve to work here, doing what you do.”
It was a nice blue. Bold and respectable. A dignified blue.
“I trust you,” he said. “Now you need to trust me.”
Her pulse skipped. This prince trusted her to protect him.
“Take them, for God’s sake,” he said. “I’m hungry.”
It was the prompt she needed. Avoiding his stare, she snatched the pile from him, not sure how else to handle the significance of finally possessing her worth.
“Good,” he said quietly.
The fabric was cool, sturdy. Her finger moved along the bottom fold of the trousers, out of sight, stroking the weave in both caution and disbelief.
Then Kris held out an empty palm.
Her gut fell. This uniform would lead her forward—and he was making sure no one could look back the way she’d come.