Her Bodyguard Read online

  slides the sunglasses to the tip of her nose, looking over them at me with her big eyes. "Screw the agenda."

  From anyone else, a statement like that would sound normal. Angry even. But from Princess Alexandra, it sounds like dirty talk, innuendo rolling off her tongue.

  I clear my throat and focus on her face. Don't look down, I remind myself. Don't look down. I repeat it like a mantra in my head. "You're scheduled for lunch with your family."

  She sighs. "Those lunches always go so well, don't they, James?"

  I don't comment. "There's an interview with a magazine after lunch."

  "Well, then. I suppose the reporter can do the interview outside just as easily as inside the house, right?"

  I exhale loudly. "As you wish, princess."

  "I don't think I've ever heard you use that phrase, James," she says, her voice lilting. "You're not suddenly becoming agreeable and compliant, are you?"

  Her hair smells like coconut and she has clear shiny lip gloss on that makes her lower lip look puffy and lush and kissable. It smells like cherry, the kind that girls wear in high school. I want to put my lips on hers and find out whether they taste like they smell.

  But I don't. She's purposely trying to rile me up, to get me to bend. It's a power struggle and she's not going to win.

  The girl is going to say my name. She's going to moan it. That's all there is to it. Besides, I can make power plays of my own.

  I take my finger and trail the tip down the front of her neck and between her breasts, catching the little string that holds the two postage-sized pieces of fabric together. "You haven't been a bad girl, have you?"

  "I don't know what you mean," she says haughtily. I can't read her expression behind those damn sunglasses, which I'm guessing is exactly why she chose this particular pair with the dark lenses. But hiding her eyes doesn't do a damn thing to conceal the way her lips fall open to make a little "O" shape as she inhales sharply.

  Those responses tell me that calling her a bad girl has exactly the effect I hoped it would have on her.

  "Oh, I don't think that's true. I think you know exactly what I mean," I whisper, my finger moving slowly down her abdomen, lower and lower, until it reaches the top of her tiny bikini bottoms.

  "I'm afraid I don't." Her mouth curls up at the edges. "I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out for me exactly."

  I run my fingertip along the edge of her bikini. I could slip my finger underneath the fabric and right down the front of that swimsuit so easily.

  She must realize the same thing, because her breath gets very short very quickly.

  I know she's wet by the way she's breathing. That can't be faked.

  Her chest rises and falls sharply the closer I get to touching her there, so I push my luck farther, just to see how much she'll let me get away with. "Let me guess," I say softly. "You were lying in bed last night trying to go to sleep, but the throbbing between your legs wouldn't allow you to rest. You were so tired, and it was just too much for you, and you had to do something to help yourself."

  "You're always telling ridiculous stories," she whispers but she doesn't move away as I slide my fingertip just underneath the edge of her bikini bottoms.

  "You had to get off," I continue. "You had to slide your fingers inside that soaking wet pussy and you had to make yourself come. Does that sound about right?"

  "That's completely –"

  "Are you really going to deny it? Should I turn you over my knee and punish you for being a naughty girl?"

  She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, and when she finally answers, her voice cracks. "You're wrong," she whispers.

  "You didn't touch yourself?" I ask in disbelief. "Not even once?"

  She clears her throat. "That is none of your business, James."

  Voices echo loudly through the hallway. Stepping calmly away from the princess, I cover my very obvious boner with the paper copy of the agenda just as Prince Albert bursts into the room.

  "What's with this magazine article, Alex?" he demands. "Wait. Are you seriously ditching out on the family interview to go to the pool?"

  I can't see her eyes behind the glasses, but I swear I can feel them roll anyway. "You can send the reporter out to the pool to interview me when he's done with all of you," she huffs. "Although I'm sure that the Ice Queen would be perfectly happy to leave me out of any interviews with the family."

  "That's a terrible idea. It's all of us, so you're supposed to be there. Are you going to talk any sense into my sister, Max?"

  I laugh. "I'm a bodyguard, not a miracle worker, sir." I move toward the door. "If you'll excuse me..."

  Alexandra calls after me. "Make sure you change into swim trunks, James."

  Prince Albert laughs. "You're going to force Max to guard you at the pool?"

  "You say that as if I'm tormenting him," Alexandra replies haughtily. "He's the one who insists on following me around all the time, even to the places I don't need a bodyguard."

  Yeah, places like the library. And underneath her skirt.

  "Unfortunately, sir, the king wouldn't approve my request to implant a tracking device in the back of your sister's neck, so I've been forced to keep tabs on her the old-fashioned way."

  Prince Albert laughs. "It's your own fault for escaping from the palace so many times, Alex," he says. "Besides, something tells me you don't mind the attention so much."

  Princess Alexandra's cheeks turn visibly pink. "I don't know what you're talking about in the least," she insists primly. "And you did not actually ask my father to put a tracking device in me, did you?"

  "It's actually an excellent idea," Prince Albert jokes. "I'm sure the royal veterinarian would be happy to microchip you, you know. I'll have to ask our Father to reconsider it."

  Alexandra slaps Prince Albert hard on the arm and he stumbles away laughing. "You're an ass, Albie," she calls. "At least people want to microchip me so they don't lose me!"

  "You're being micro chipped?" Isabella's voice comes from outside of Alexandra's room, and when she enters, her brow is furrowed. "I mean, I know that there are lots of wealthy people who get chipped in case of kidnappings, but that's not really what royals do, is it? That's pretty freaking creepy, if you ask me."

  Alexandra is suddenly mock serious. She walks up to Isabella and puts her hands on Isabella's arms. "No one told you?" she asks quietly. "James, tell her about the chipping. How do you think James is able to find me all the time?"

  "Why are you calling him James?" Belle asks, confused.

  "Because she's a terrible person," I answer, and Alexandra sticks her tongue out at me. "But I find her because of my mad bodyguard skills. Of course, the chip in her neck does make it a lot easier. It's not even painful. Well, not horribly painful, that is. On a scale of one to ten, most people say it's around a seven, but that's not terrible, is it? You wouldn't think that inserting a chip the size of a thumb into the back of the neck would cause that much pain, but it's surprisingly – oh no, you're looking a little green, ma'am."

  "Both of you are terrible people," Prince Albert says, laughing. "We don't get chipped, Belle. Protrovia isn't some kind of dystopian police state."

  Alexandra hoots. "The look on your face, though, was priceless!"

  "I'm not sure you should be making fun of her, sis. You're the one who was concerned a second ago that dad had approved your being micro chipped like an animal."

  "You have to admit, that's far more likely to happen than any of you having a tracking device inserted into them," Alexandra muses. "I could see our Father realistically approving something like that for me."

  "Are you doing your magazine interview at the pool?" Isabella asks. "My agenda says that I'm supposed to wear a pastel-colored suit. Are we wearing pastel-colored clothes?"

  "Your agenda tells you what clothes to wear?" Alexandra asks, incredulous. "Give me that thing."

  She practically rips it out of Isabella's hand, looking over the edge of her sunglasses at the piece of pape