So that’s what Justin Timberlake would sound like if he were a serial killer.

Nicholas sighs, rubbing his forehead. “How long has this been going on?”

I lift my chin. “Depends on what you mean by ‘this,’ Sir.”

Henry snaps the books closed. “I didn’t like the way you looked at her at the wedding.” He braces his hands on the desk beside Nicholas—leaning over and glaring at me. “So, he means just how long have you been sticking it to the girl who’s like a little sister to us?”

I hold his furious gaze for a few seconds, breathing slowly. “That’s . . . a fairly recent development.”

Then my voice grows stronger. Because I’m not ashamed.

“But I have loved her for a long, long time.”

I didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to even think it . . . but it’s the truth. Simple and straight.

And the indignant wind goes out of Henry’s sails.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Nicholas says.

Lady Sarah steps in, wearing her nightclothes under a fluffy ivory robe and a chastising expression. Behind her glasses, her eyes narrow on Henry.

“So this is how it’s going to be, then? Married only a few days and I already have to search the palace to drag my husband to bed?”

Henry goes to Sarah, like an invisible rope is reeling him to her. “Dragging me to your bed is something you’ll never have to do, love. You can even tie me there whenever you like, and I’ll be happy to reciprocate.”

He kisses her mouth, as she blushes deep and bright.

She leans back. “Then why are you down here instead of up there with me?”

“There was an emergency.”

“What kind of an emergency?”

“You’re not going to believe it.”

“Try me.”

“Logan and Ellie are fucking.”

She automatically glances at me, and her cheeks deepen to a shade of crimson. “I’m sure there’s a more delicate way to word that, Henry.”

Henry nods, soberly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let me try again: Logan and Ellie are humping, like insatiable randy bunnies, all over the palace.”

Sarah shakes her head. “You’re hopeless.”

The Prince grins broadly. “It’s part of my charm.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

Henry kisses her again. “Take me to bed. Obviously.”

He nods towards his brother. “You’ve got this?”

“Yes. Good night, Henry, Sarah.”

And the happy newlyweds exit the room. Leaving Prince Nicholas and me alone.

He stares at me across the desk with a penetrating, unreadable expression. This man whom I respect and admire. Who’s been more of a mentor, an older brother to me, than anyone related by blood.

“Prince Nicholas—”

“I’m not a fool, Logan.”

I should have told him from the beginning. Found a moment, made the time. Before I ever laid a finger on her.

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve suspected an . . . attraction . . . between you and Ellie for some time, possibly before you did.”

“Yes. I realize—” I begin.

“You are everything I’d hoped for her. Everything I’d prayed she’d find.”

My thoughts stop in their tracks. And my voice is faint with surprise.

“Really?”

“Of course.” He nods, smiling with warmth in his eyes. “You’re a good man—dedicated, hardworking, loyal. I know you’ll put her happiness above all else, that you’ll keep her safe. Olivia believes the same.”

And it feels like a blessing. The best kind.

Then Nicholas’s features sober, grow serious.

“But . . . Logan . . .”

I lift my hand, stopping him, because I already know.

“You don’t have to say it. I understand. I’ll speak with Winston in the morning, first thing.”

“YOU STUCK-UP, ARROGANT SON OF a bitch!”

I yell the words as I charge into Nicholas and Olivia’s private dining room—like Joan of fucking Arc on the French battlefield. I came straight here after I talked to Logan, right after he finished meeting with Winston. Right after he turned in his badge or sexy dark clothes or whatever the hell bodyguards have to turn in when they stop being bodyguards.

I love Nicholas, he’s a great guy—which makes his current douchery all the more upsetting.

“Ellie!” My sister stands up.

“He fired Logan,” I tell her. Then I only have condemning eyes for her hubby, who’s still sitting. “How could you do this to him? This job is his life; it means everything to him.”

“Not everything.” Nicholas’s eyes are cool green and unsurprised. He tosses his napkin on the table. “For the record, I didn’t fire him. He resigned.”

“But you would have fired him if he hadn’t resigned.”

“Yes, I would have.”

Slowly, my sister turns. “Nicholas?”

“I would no sooner allow Logan to guard you or Ellie than I would ask a surgeon to operate on his wife. I’ve been in his shoes. I’ve had to choose between duty and love, and I know how it ends.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Logan can still be a bodyguard, and be with me.”

“Really?” my brother-in-law asks. “And how would that work, exactly? The upcoming ball that will kick off Henry and Sarah’s wedding festivities—did you want Logan to come with you? By your side, as your date, a guest?”

I’ve imagined that. Being on Logan’s arm, dancing with him, laughing with him—while he’s clad in a sharp, perfectly fitted tuxedo like James fucking Bond.

Mama like.

“Well . . . yeah. I do want that.”

Nicholas nods. “And how will he enjoy the party, attend to you . . . and guard the door at the same time?”

I stomp my foot, getting frustrated, because I see the sense Nicholas is making—and I don’t want to.

“He wouldn’t have to be on duty then.”

“All right, then let’s imagine how it will be when he is on duty. Picture it—we’re all at an event together, shaking hands, accepting flowers. Then, suddenly a shot rings out. What does Logan do? Who does he cover first?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Don’t think, just answer—who?”

I say the first answer that pops into my head—the only answer.

“Me. Logan would cover me first.”

Nicholas leans forward, his features softening. “Of course he would. Just as he should—I would expect nothing less.” His eyes dart to my sister. “But the fact remains that I have to think of Olivia, of our children. And for the men assigned to guard her, she must come first—she is the priority. I like Logan very much; I always have. I trust him and would willingly depend on him. I like the two of you together, Ellie. But his feelings for you have compromised him and he’s unable to fulfill the duties of his position. It’s as simple as that.”

A weight sits on my chest, bending it in. Crushing guilt.

“It’s not fair.”

“Life often isn’t,” Nicholas says gently. “Logan had a clear choice to make. He understood what he was doing. He knew he could have you or his job—not both. And he chose you.”

“I STILL THINK IT SUCKS.”

I’m on the mattress in the half-constructed living room of my house, on my side, listening as Ellie rails against the unfairness of life, watching her hang soft yellow drapes on the rods I installed this morning.

She’s wearing one of my button-down shirts and nothing beneath. It’s long on her—but when she stretches up high to make an adjustment, her scrumptious arse teases me with a glimpse.

Speaking of sucking . . .

She has such a lovely arse. I want to kiss her there, lick her there, hear the high-pitched whine in her voice as she comes while I fuck her there. My cock juts out, hard and ready, and my balls throb.

She needs to finish those bloody curtains. Quickly.