a cursory sweep with a wand and insisted on joining the two in the back of the car. I rode up front in silence as Malcolm and Marcy quietly chatted in the back until she was dropped at a small home on the edge of town ten minutes later.
We’d been forty-five minutes late to the dinner, but Malcolm used his charm and wit to smooth the situation over—that and a dozen bottles of champagne delivered from the nearest shop.
On the way to our country inn for the night, Malcolm had been unusually quiet, but my curiosity wouldn’t allow me to hold my tongue.
“That was kind, what you did for Marcy.” I watched him as the light from passing streetlamps flashed over his face.
“What was that?” He’d clearly been lost in thought.
“Marcy. It was lovely of you to show her such care.” My voice was quiet, as I doubted Andrew or Damon wanted a reminder of the day’s events.
“She reminded me of Clara.” Malcolm’s small smile was wistful. “She was a dancer.”
“Princess Clara or Marcy?”
“Marcy.” He looked out the window, the light painting shapes on his skin. “She taught her daughter to dance as well, but the girl passed last autumn.”
I brought a hand to my mouth. “How awful.” I couldn’t imagine.
“I couldn’t imagine that.” He echoed my thoughts exactly. Then his voice assumed a tone of frustration. “What’s the use of money and influence if you can’t help someone in any impactful way?”
“Your family helps thousands of people daily. And I have a feeling you helped Marcy more than you think.”
His head turned to me again. “Really?” He looked so hopeful, my heart threatened to break.
“Of course,” I reassured in my usual pragmatic tone.
“It’s what my father would have done,” he murmured, twisting my heart in my chest again. Because he was right, and more than that, it was clear he truly cared.
“Although your father would have let Andrew sweep her first.” I meant it partly in jest and partly out of a sense of allegiance to my coworkers. We were all tasked with the prince’s safety, despite his common disregard for it.
Malcolm’s eyes brightened again, and a grin lifted the corners of his lips. “That’s because he’s scared of Trevor,” he lied.
My only response was a noncommittal hum as we continued past the streetlamps and the car’s interior fell into darkness. My head rested back against the seat and I flexed my fingers where they rested on my lap, aware of the man seated next to me in a most unnerving manner. Because the pesky attraction was still there, but the love I felt for him could no longer be denied.
It was more difficult than I’d thought resisting the urge to punch Malcolm in his smug mouth as the plane lifted from the runway and catapulted us into the midnight sky.
Of course, everyone in the Triumph offices had been beside themselves with excitement at the surprise visitor this morning. They’d all bent over backwards to rush an immediate photo shoot to kickstart the Velocity campaign, despite the minor fact that no actual contract was in place.
Malcolm was as agreeable as a fat puppy, telling jokes and glad-handing as photographers scrambled to compose a set and legal tore their hair out over potential terms. It was eventually decided that test photos would be taken to establish a starting point, and Malcolm would return to complete the official shoot once everything was in order.
No one appeared the least bit concerned that the man had a coronation in three short weeks and would likely be on virtual lockdown until then. Yet he assured everyone with his confident smile and flair for exaggeration that all would work out in the end with nary a hiccup.
I seemed to be the only one with my feet on the ground and a nagging sense of doom pressing in on my chest. And now here I was uprooting my life at the whim of this man again. Even after I’d sworn to myself I was finished allowing him to have sway over me. Damn the man!
“Comfortable?” He glanced over from his seat across the aisle with a raised brow.
I had to stop myself from scowling at him, instead pulling in a calming breath and responding, “Quite,” before refocusing on the crossword booklet in my lap. It was true, after all. I’d never flown first-class commercial before. Of course, I’d been on the royal jet enough times, but I’d always been busy working, not to mention a large