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)
“The king and family are on their way down,” Dmitri says from behind, and I turn to face him. I’d heard the same announcement over the comms.
“Everything is secure and everyone is in place,” I reply, but he knows that as well. He’s been listening to the same check-ins I elicited a few minutes ago.
“Heard what happened this morning.” His voice is clipped, matter-of-fact, and not at all nosy. Just a statement.
“How pissed is the king?” I ask curiously.
“He ordered the guillotine dusted off,” Dmitri replies, and I snort before he continues, “He’s cooled down. No worries.”
“Because he knows Camille is only having a dalliance with me and the precious throne is protected.”
Yeah, there’s way too much bitterness in that statement.
“He is just being an overprotective father.” I’m not surprised by Dmitri’s defense of the king. His loyalty is absolute.
Still, I scoff. “Yeah, well, his accusations that I’m taking advantage of his daughter and have my eye on the throne pissed me off. He’s lucky I didn’t shoot him.”
“You’re lucky,” Dmitri says drolly, “as I would have had to shoot you.”
I can’t help but chuckle. That’s exactly how it would’ve gone down. “Lucky cooler heads prevailed, right?”
“Right,” he replies, and I’m gifted with an actual smile from the normally dour man. Well, not actually a smile. One side of his mouth curves up. Could be a nervous tic, though.
“Everything set for my flight?” I ask. It’s the one thing I asked him for help with today.
“The king graciously got the ball rolling as he wants you out of here faster than you want it. You have a flight crew at the ready to depart tonight after we take down our assassin.”
“Appreciate it,” I reply, even though the thought of flying away from Bretaria makes my stomach roll. But there’s no sense in staying another night. It’s such a long flight, requiring multiple stops, that leaving during the day or night doesn’t matter. And there’s no sense in staying another night. More time with Camille makes it that much harder to leave, and I did a good job today starting the break.
That’s the real reason I avoided her. I’m afraid being in her presence will make me do something stupid.
I glance at my watch. The party is set to start soon. It will probably go on for three to four hours. If we’re right, the danger to Camille and Thomas will end in that time frame, and then I’m free.
Then I’m out of here.
“Family is arriving,” a voice crackles across the comms.
Without a word, Dmitri and I make our way to the huge foyer that could hold a hundred people on its own. The receiving line will be there to greet guests as they come through the entrance. Guests have been instructed to arrive early to be searched and go through our metal detectors.
Dmitri and I move adjacent to the doors, which are closed for now. Our backs will be against the short wall that borders the receiving room. The family will be placed before us with plainclothes agents—if tuxedos and sparkling gowns are considered plain—already milling about with faux glasses of champagne in hand. Early admittees, the incoming guests will assume.
My attention goes to the top of the staircase as King Thomas and Queen Juliana arrive, her hand tucked into his arm. They are dressed like any other guest might be, Thomas in a tux and Juliana in a formfitting, bloodred, strapless gown. The only adornment that indicates royalty are the heavy jewels Juliana wears.
Rubies, of course.
They start down the stairs. As they descend, Camille comes into view. Marius stands beside her, ready to escort her down. He’s playing her date for the night, but Paul is right behind them.
I almost want to gouge out my eyes because she’s so radiant. The most beautiful I have ever seen her, and I’ve seen her dressed to the hilt and naked underneath me.
She’s wearing a golden dress, also strapless, and looking way too fine and fitted over her breasts, which I’m feeling very proprietary over. The gown is asymmetrical with swaths of material wrapped at slicing angles across her torso, hips, and halfway down her thighs where it opens into a wide angle exposing one leg almost in its entirety and half of the other.
Camille’s hair is swept up, pulled back severely from her face, and wound into an intricate knot at the back of her head. I imagine it’s deliberate to showcase her delicate tiara, done in rubies of varying sizes. I suspect that was what was in the black velvet box Thomas had when he burst in on us this morning.
More rubies drip from her ears, pool around the base of her throat, and form a wide cuff around one wrist. The ring finger of her right hand sports a ruby so big, it distracts.