Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Dmitri cuts her off again. “Marius has been informed to meet you there. Starting tonight, Mr. Gale will be your personal bodyguard.”
“I don’t need a personal bodyguard here,” she snaps, blue eyes darkening to what I imagine the deep ocean would look like.
Dmitri cocks an eyebrow at her. “Contrary to the fact you went outside the palace walls without permission or protection and were going to dive off a cliff into the sea.”
My body jerks at that revelation, and I see that Ladd, Cruce, and Dozer are all as shocked as I am.
She’s a rebel.
A bad girl.
An adventurous spirit.
Christ, my job just got infinitely harder.
And admittedly, more interesting. Never in a million years did I imagine the princess diving off a cliff.
“Whatever,” Camille snarls at Dmitri and opens the door. She sails through and slams it behind her. There’s the pique I’d been expecting.
Dmitri looks at each of us before giving a small nod. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to continue your plans. We can meet again tomorrow.”
After Dmitri exits, we settle back down in our chairs. Ladd remains standing, arms crossed over his chest. “That was interesting,” he says.
Dozer leans over his computer, typing furiously. The clacking of his keyboard has us all watching him. His head pops up, and he grins at me over the laptop screen, eyes sparkling. “I just put this information into BOB, and it reports back that you are going to have your hands full with this woman.”
I glare at him but Ladd, Cruce, and Dozer have a good laugh at my expense.
CHAPTER 4
Camille
“Why are you in such a crappy mood?” Marius asks from beside me.
True to Dmitri’s word, Marius is waiting outside the Enovia amphitheater hosting my mother’s private fundraiser. We’re here to champion her cause for education reform in underprivileged countries. She’s currently working on a project to develop a school that would allow over a thousand lower- and middle-class school children to attend for free, along with food stipends for entire families, in Haiti.
Jackson Gale drove us in one of Father’s Bentleys, and I was grateful he didn’t attempt small talk. In fact, he didn’t attempt any talk at all. Didn’t even offer a “good evening, Your Highness” when I met him at the east side carport.
He was polite enough to open the back door and made sure I pulled the length of my silver gown in all the way, but he was silent on the ten-minute drive to the amphitheater. Marius saw us arrive and jogged down the steps to open my door before Mr. Gale could even get out of the driver’s side.
Which was fine by me. I intended to ignore the man all night because, frankly, he wasn’t worth my attention.
Even if he was worth my attention—which, honestly, okay … he’s super hot—I wouldn’t be in the frame of mind to exert the effort. My mind is preoccupied by other things.
“My father is hiding something from me,” I say to Marius as my eyes sweep the outdoor venue. The lower level of chairs that make up the base of the stadium have been cleared, and tables have been set up for people to sit if they don’t want to stand and mingle. An orchestra plays, and waiters flow through the crowd offering canapés and champagne.
I chose something stronger, a gimlet on the rocks, but I’ve barely taken a sip. Instead, I stare across the crowd at my father, dashing in his tuxedo and royal sash draped across his chest. He wears no other adornments, and his coronation crown has been locked in a vault since he took the throne almost thirty years ago.
My mother, Juliana Winterbourne, is a vision next to him. I inherited her blond hair and blue eyes, and she looks like my sister rather than my mother. She’s Brazilian, and my father met her during the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul. He was there to watch, and she was there to play volleyball for her home country.
While she is tall and lithe, the epitome of queenly grace at fifty-two, she’s also a strong, powerful woman. She works out religiously—as does my father, who is powerful in his own right—and plays in a local recreational volleyball league where she crushes pretty much all the competition.
She must sense me staring at her, because she turns her lovely face my way and gives me a smile. Her eyes cut to Marius, the smile turns sly and comes back to me.
I smirk and shake my head at her.
Don’t go there, Mother. Marius and I are just friends.
And the infuriating woman knows it.
God love her, but it’s her queenly duty to help my father in his quest to find me someone suitable to marry and procreate with. Deep down, she knows I’m going to hold out for true love—whatever that means and wherever I find it—rather than be forced into something.