Return of the Prince Read online

  I'd taken his spot. I'd always felt a bit bad about it, but that's the way these things went. Injuries were common. How was I to know that Madrid would trade him?

  After the trade, we’d talked a little. I had tried to apologize because I didn't know what else to do. But last time we talked about it, he'd said it was all right. He understood. Not like it was my fault. Not like I'd deliberately gone out for his spot. And I hadn't.

  But I certainly hadn't said no to the position either. It wasn’t even my only way off the island. I could have gone back to school at Eton. Carried on with the original plan with Ariel. But eventually I would have had to go home. Taking that spot meant I'd never have to go back. I'd never have to answer to anyone. I'd never have to see my brother. My career became my ready excuse.

  And then, well, Ariel had never joined me. Everything back on the island had gone to hell, and suddenly the feeling of not wanting to go home became a scenario where I couldn't go home. Not without express permission from my cousin. Or at his behest like for his wedding.

  The last time I had been home, Lord Gilroy had told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't welcome, and that he would personally see to it that I would never return. He blamed me for his daughter going missing.

  I tried to explain to him that she was a friend of mine. I knew nothing. But still, a worried father was not to be ignored. And I had been worried about his daughter too. Amelia. We'd been friends and part of the same circles. Good friends actually. But never anything more.

  She was the only other person who'd really known about my plans with Ariel, and she'd been supportive. Why her father thought I would have anything to do with her vanishing was beyond me. But Amelia had said it herself. She'd always wanted to go see the world, run away, strike out on her own. So I hadn't really thought anything about it at the time. But Gilroy had seemed convinced, more than convinced, that I'd had something to do with his daughter's disappearance. And given everything else on my plate, it was the least of my worries. But it did mean that I would eventually have to deal with him one way or the other. But currently he was the least of my problems. Luckily, Ashton hadn't made good on his promise to ruin me if I ever tried to come back. I'd still bought myself some time. He might not know that I was home. So priority number one was Max. Nothing else mattered until I had dealt with him.

  "And what are you doing in your old spot?"

  With Ella on a plane, there'd had been nothing, really, to stop me from revisiting old skeletons and memories and dreams.

  I had peeled my shoes off at the start of the walk, socks too, and I reveled in the feeling of sand between my toes. God, it felt good to be home.

  It was my first time actually putting my feet in the sand since stepping off the plane. It was also my first time back to that particular spot.

  The spot had significant memories for me. Ariel and I had gone there all the time. It had been our spot. I made the quarter-mile trek down to the old bungalow. It had been kept up of course. It was still on the royal grounds. It looked exactly the same. Cheery on the outside. The doors had been replaced though. Probably due to weather during the last several hurricanes or so.

  I heard her voice before I saw her, and it gave me pause. Maybe this had been a bad idea after all.

  "Of course you would be down here."

  I turned slowly and found her sitting on the flat rock we'd spent countless hours on watching the waves come in. "Well, I wanted to think. It sort of felt natural." When I looked closer, the moonlight glistened on her face, and there was something shimmery on her cheeks. Was that glitter?

  No, you wanker, she's been crying.

  White-hot pain lanced through me. "Fuck? Those because of me?"

  “Fuck off, Tristan.”

  I approached her slowly. "How was the rest of your date?"

  She gave me a harsh laugh. "You mean the one that you did everything you could to ruin?"

  "Hey, I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to say hi."

  "You knew I was going on a date. I had specifically told you I was going to be on a date."

  "Yes, I know. I just hadn't seen Ian in a long time. I replaced him you know."

  She sighed. "Yeah, I know."

  I could see on her face that her shield was going back up, and I scrambled. "Okay, you know what, we both came down here for a reason. So maybe we just don't talk about anything in the past. You know, call a truce for a minute."

  Wide, moss-green eyes blinked up at me, and she gave me a curt nod. I indicated the seat next to her. "Do you mind?"

  She looked like she might refuse me for a moment but then shook her head. "It's your beach, right?"

  "Actually, it's my cousin's beach."

  "Yeah, well, if your father had never abdicated it would be yours wouldn't it?"

  "You know, I've never really given it any thought. I led exactly the life I was supposed to lead. Sebastian doesn't get to be a world-famous photographer. I wouldn't have been able to be a soccer player. Better he made that sacrifice than I."

  I could tell she wanted to say something. Ask something, but she watched the water. "Why did you come down here?"

  That was a damn good question. After spending dinner with her, I had been eager to recapture something of the person I'd been. But, I'd also needed clarity on the person I was going to become in just a couple of weeks. I needed calm. And this was the place I used to get it. "I'm just thinking through some things. You know the whole reason I came back. So I guess it was habit."

  She nodded slowly. "Yeah I guess so."

  I didn't dare look at her. I might be tempted to hold her, comfort her, and ask her why she was crying. "What about you? What are you doing down here in our old place?"

  "I don't know, I guess habit and letting some things go."

  That burned but I didn't say so. She was allowed to be honest. I also wanted her to let me go. If she didn't want to let me go, then she'd be paying a whole hell of a lot of attention to what I was up to. And I couldn't have that. "You like Ian? He's a solid guy."

  "Yeah. He's completely solid," she clipped back.

  I chuckled low. "That sounds like a glowing endorsement."

  "Oh, what right do you—"

  I held up my hands. "Sorry, I was being facetious. I didn't mean anything by it."

  She winced. "Sorry. I guess even in truce we can't help but have a fight."

  "I really wish it wasn't that way."

  She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again. "Yeah, me too." We sat there in companionable silence for ages. Finally, I turned to her. "Your company, where is it located?"

  She pointed in the opposite direction from where I'd come. "See that glass building over there on the rocks?"

  I nodded.

  "Yeah, that's me. I took the path down. It's about a half mile down here."

  I frowned. "You walked by yourself?"

  She raised a delicate russet brow. "You recognize that I carry a gun, right?"

  I chuckled low. "Yeah. Sorry. I went into full protector mode, and it turns out you don't need anyone to protect you, do you?"

  She met my gaze then. The tears were gone from her eyes, and suddenly I was faced with the girl I once knew. "No. Not anymore."

  I nodded. "Good. I'm glad. Despite everything, I like that."

  She inhaled deep. "Is it everything you wanted?"

  I frowned, getting her meaning and then trying to think through my answer. "I think so. I think it will be. Maybe not right away. But I needed to be home."

  "I remember when you would have done anything to be here. And then anything to not have to be here."

  "Yes, well the whole reason for leaving is no longer a reason, and the moment it was no longer a reason, all I wanted to do was come home."

  "Well," she gave me a small smile, "for what's it worth, I'm glad you were able to come home. It's a terrible thing to not be able to, to think that you can't."

  I nodded slowly. "I was really sorry to hear about your dad."


  She shook her head. "Let's just file that one under past things we're not going to talk about." She checked her watch and then stood. "I have to get back. It was nice having this momentary truce, Your Highness."

  "Can you do me a favor and, just once, use my name?"

  Why the hell was my voice deeper? The intimacy wrapped around us as the waves lapped onto the beach and the ocean called to us. I could almost hear Sebastian the crab and his little chorus of underwater creatures singing “Kiss the Girl.”

  Her lips parted and trembled slightly. "Tristan."

  I couldn't explain the warmth that jettisoned through me. Like all of a sudden someone had turned on a bonfire in the stark cold of winter. But hearing her say my name was like the balm that I needed to push me forward and keep me going. "Good night, Ariel."

  "Good night. You realize that the truce is over now?"

  I nodded. "I'd expect nothing less."

  "And your Guard?"

  I chuckled softly. "I was wondering when you were going to ask about that." I waved my hand. And the Guard they'd given me for the night, the sharpshooter, what was his name? Jonathan? He turned on his laser and it pointed directly at her heart. She looked down and chuckled. "Well, at least he can shoot."

  And then, about twenty feet away, around the corner and just down the stairs from the palace, was one of her knights. Trace waved and called out, "Hey, boss lady."

  She grinned and waved. "Hey, Trace." She nodded at me. "Good, at least you're following protocol."

  "Yes. There's a redhead with a short temper I don't want to piss off."

  "Yeah, best you don't do that."

  Then she turned and was gone, and my heart went with her.

  TWELVE

  TRISTAN…

  THIS WAS HOME.

  The rapid clamor of footsteps behind me. The sticky, muggy air clinging tight to my skin. The salt in the air. The breath heaving in and out of my lungs, causing them to constrict and contract. The sweat pouring down my face. The tussle of bodies, grappling, fighting, trying to get the upper leg, the tripping, the shoving, holding my own. I was as close to euphoria as I had ever felt. Christ, it was good to be home.

  During the contract negotiations of the last month and then the attempt on my life, I hadn't practiced properly in a while. Just basic conditioning. One thing was apparent; I was out of practice. My muscles felt lethargic, stiff. But hopefully, in a week or so as I got used to moving them in the right way again, I’d start to feel like myself.

  The whistle blew, and Coach called us all in. I felt a couple of claps on my back. Billford, a guy I’d played with before in Madrid years ago, grinned at me. "You're a little rusty, Your Highness."

  I rolled my eyes. "Shove it, mate." I'd already instructed them that none of them were to call me 'Your Highness,' which would honestly only apply to five men on the team and the coach, since they were the only subjects of the monarchy. Everyone else was an import. But sure enough, that little announcement had made all the guys start referring to me as HRH to give me shit.

  He chuckled. "Whatever you say, Your Royal Highness."

  "Wanker.”

  He chuckled as he ran ahead of me. "You're still rusty though."

  "Yeah, I know it."

  The coach had us gather around as he gave instructions on what he wanted to fix. When his gaze turned to me, he lifted his brows. "You're kind of slow today, aren't you?"

  I used my shirt to wipe my face even as the kids who were acting as towel boys ran over to us with fresh towels. "Yeah. I'll get used to it."

  "Billford, listen, you're supposed to give the ball to Tristan. I don't know what you're doing out there with all the show boating, but it wasn't working."

  Billford just smiled. "Well, I wanted to make him work. Let's see what he's made of. The guy I knew would have knocked me to the ground and taken it."

  The coach was not having that though. "Wait, do you double duty as a coach for the Argonauts? Do you? I had no idea. Please tell me, what salary did they pay you to be in charge of me?"

  Billford stuttered. We all knew Coach Simmons wasn’t screwing around. He put up with no shit from anyone. As a brand-new coach two years ago, he had taken the team all the way to a third-place finish in the World Cup. And in all honesty, they’d had no business at the World Cup. The team had been young and cobbled together, but still, he managed to lead them to pulling off a miracle. So as the team grew now, we could probably do anything.

  He pulled me aside as I grabbed a towel and wiped my face again while I waited for him to give me the verbal ass kicking I was expecting. Bottles of water were passed around. I grabbed the one with my name and sprayed it on my hair and my face. Just as I was about to take a drink, Coach leveled his gaze on me. "You're rusty."

  I sighed. "I know. I'll get it together."

  "See that you do. Are you distracted by all the royal nonsense?"

  I frowned. A little. "No. I'm ready to play. I just want to get to work."

  "Good. Because I think you're good for this team. A son of Winston Isles come to carry his boys into glory."

  "Well, I don't know about glory, but we're certainly going to have a blast getting there."

  He clapped me on the back, and before I knew what happened, Billford sent the ball directly for me. He thought I was going to miss it. He thought I hadn’t anticipated it. But while my legs might not be moving as quickly as I was used to, my brain still functioned. Plus, I’d been working with Lucas to hone other skills.

  I headed it back in, and my teammates cheered. "Are we done with this little pep talk?"

  He nodded. "Seriously, pick up your feet. I want you working on drills tonight and tomorrow morning. Footwork. Just to get the lead out. I also want you to see a masseuse. You look stiff."

  I nodded. "I am. Constant travel. I'll get it together."

  "Good. Now, go lead them. They are your team. They will follow you."

  I didn’t want to lead anyone. What right did I have to that? But I nodded. "Yeah, I'm working on it."

  I ran back in. After a few practices, I should be tighter than hell. And I was pretty sure my hamstrings were going to be burning later, but I started to loosen up. I just felt better. When I managed to wrestle the ball away from my teammates, I worked on the fancy footwork on my arch behind my foot, the dance of my feet around each other, tap, tap, tap, tip, tap, tip. Pant. Pant. It was almost as if I felt like myself again. And out here, no one cared what I’d done or what had been done to me. No one cared who I was. They just wanted to play.

  For the remainder of the practice, the guys stopped coddling me. They started to make me work for the ball. Started to push me, test me. Cornering me, coming for me, tested my mettle. But God, I felt fucking fantastic. Especially when I was able to easily outmaneuver someone. At one point, I put Billford on his back.

  He just grinned at me. "Look who started to play."

  "On your feet, you wanker."

  He jumped up easily and chased after me. Yeah, it was good to be home.

  After practice, Coach had a few more words for us, and we all grabbed our water bottles. I headed back for the locker room. Trevor watched me from the stands. The moment I was moving though, he was down the stairs in a flash.

  I took a sip of my water and swallowed it, the cool nectar icing me from the inside, cooling off the steaming heat inside my body. I sucked down some more and relaxed. Everyone else had their sports drinks, but I preferred water right away. Once I got inside, I’d change out for whatever sports drink had been packed for me.

  I’d managed it though. One full practice and I hadn’t died, despite what my lungs thought at first. We were only a couple of feet into the tunnel when I heard the commotion.

  "Billford. Fuck. Billford."

  Several of the guys ran past me. It felt like slow motion. I couldn't move my body around quickly enough. And when I did, everything sped up too much, too fast. Billford was on the ground, seizing.

  Trevor was on me, han
d on my collar, shoving me to the side and trying to push me toward the door, but I held my ground. The team medics rushed past us down the tunnel. I heard the sound of the ambulance rolling up. Someone had already called them.

  Then I saw my friend on the ground. I knew it wasn’t the safest course of action, but I shook Trevor off and rushed to his side with my teammates. I kneeled beside them with no clue what to do or how to stop it. "Jesus Christ, Billford."

  In all the commotion, we rolled him to his side and tried to brace his head, trying to keep his limbs from seizing too much. The trained nurse shoved us off, and we all backed up, gritting our teeth while hoping and praying our teammate would be okay.

  Things were happening simultaneously too fast and too slow as we were forced to watch in this awful limbo, completely helpless to do anything to help.

  It was after the paramedics had him loaded onto the gurney with some kind of IV running into his system that I saw his towel and water on the ground where he'd fallen.

  Then I noticed it. His water bottle said HRH on it. I glanced down at the one in my hand and saw it said, Big Money. I had grabbed his by mistake. Billford had the same habit that I did; water first, sports drink later. We'd learned that in our early days.

  Shit. Bugger. Fuck.

  Trevor ran to me. “Your highness, the medics have him now. We need to get you out of the open.”

  "At least grab the water bottle."

  He frowned at me. "You have your bottle."

  I growled at him. "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure that one, which was supposed to be mine, was poisoned. We’ll want to have it tested.”

  The delusion I’d been under shattered. No one had been after Ella in Barcelona. It was me. I’d been the target all along.

  ARIEL…

  As I addressed my team, I shifted my weight around, still smarting from my conversation with the prince the night before. He was such an asshole. But I couldn’t even dwell on it properly because I had to work. "Okay, so these are the potential client files. We've got three newbies looking for event bodyguards. And then two long-term job prospects looking for security team build-outs and then handing off their operation.”