I remember that exact second. When our gazes connected and heat burst like a sun flare inside me.
I take another scalding gulp of coffee and tug my shirt down.
Katie, you fool.
I can’t deal with the consequences of this right now. I’m late to the polo field and I have a whole day of watching him flirt to get through. And none of it matters, anyway, because it’s not happening again and nothing will come of this, andgod, why does that hurt so much?
I like the guy in that video. I like who I am with him and I like how he makes me feel. I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale through my nose. I get five seconds like this. Five seconds of remembering how it felt to be the center of Tristan’s world.
And then I open my eyes, slide my gun into a holster, and resolve not to think about Tristan Prince for the rest of the day.
Not thinkingabout Tristan is impossible. I swear his name is on the wind. I watch the spouse candidates trot across the grass from my place on the sidelines of the polo field and I hear them saying it. Boots gleam in the morning sun. Expensive riding clothes make a drab rainbow of white, taupe, and navy. There are five remaining. Léa, Claire, Nadia, Amber, and Vanessa.
Alexishumphs from where she watches with folded arms. “I should have spit in their coffee,” she grumbles.
I slide her an amused look from where I’m checking my first aid kit. I’m doing double duty today. Bodyguard-medic. I have basic medical skills, and based on last year’s polo match, I’d do well to make sure I have extra bandages and slings.
“They seem fine.”
Fine is a mild word for the churning in my stomach and the heaviness in my chest. They aren’t fine. They’re his future. Mine too.
“We should try to figure out which one is least likely to cause trouble,” I add.
Alexis snorts and grabs one of the to-go cups of coffee from the catering table. She thrusts it at me. “Least likely to enjoy imported fruit and throw massive parties.”
I take the coffee and grin. “Least likely to bring political figures to the property.”
A small twitch of her lips. “Least likely to order breakfast before five a.m.”
“Least likely to grab my gun and ask to have a go.”
Nour laughs from where she’s perched on the top of the fence. “Least likely to puke in one of the armored SUVs.”
“Least likely to fire me.”
Nour and Alexis suck in identical breaths.
“The video isn’t that bad,” Alexis says staunchly. Alexis has the social skills of a newly woken bear, and I don’t believe her.
Nour, on the other hand? Nour has seen it all. She makes a humming noise in her throat and leans back on her hands.
“Out with it,” I grumble. “I know I’m not supposed to be kissing him. I know it’s unethical. It won’t happen again. And I’ll make sure his wife knows that.”
She snorts. “I think he’s going to want it to happen again.”
“It’s not like that.”
Alexis laughs. “It definitely looked like that.”
Nour leans over to flick me in the shoulder. “He likes you.”
As if summoned by the heavens, Tristan exits the trees on his chestnut polo pony.
“Good morning,” he calls.
All the women on the polo field stop and watch. Tristan’s looking straight at me as he rides forward, and my stomach tries to climb up my throat. He’s larger than life on a polo pony and he looks like a Ralph Lauren ad in his hunter-green polo shirt and white breeches. Even the brown boots look good, anddamn him,why is it sexual?
“Told you,” Nour whispers.
