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It was inevitable I’d see Esme, considering her sole reason for being here is because of Anderson’s recent diagnosis. Still, I hopedhewouldn’t be with her.
As luck would have it, the first time I see her, he’s not just with her.
He’skissingher.
I thought I’d gotten over her. Thought I’d moved on from those few short weeks we spent fooling ourselves we could be together.
Ishouldhave moved on from those few short weeks, especially after everything I lost as a result.
All it takes is a few seconds in her presence, a few moments of peering into those haunting green eyes, and I’m reminded why I fell so hard for her in the first place.
I didn’t think she could get any more beautiful than she was all those years ago, but I was wrong. She’s no longer a twenty-five-year-old young woman trying to find her way in the world. She’s more mature. Sophisticated. And so bloody sexy it makes my chest ache.
Her golden blonde hair falls to her mid-back in gentle waves, eyes lined with a touch of shadow, full lips tinted red. She wears a form-fitting blue dress paired with pearl jewelry, everything about her style timeless and classic. I always thought she had the look of a Hollywood starlet from the 1940s, reminding me of a modern-day Lauren Bacall.
But beside Tristan Hughes, his tall, fit body clad in a three-piece suit, dark hair perfectly groomed, she looks even more so, considering heisHollywood royalty.
They look like they belong together. Like they were made for each other.
I could never compete with that. I was foolish to think I could. Not when we come from two different worlds. She’s sophistication and grace, where I’m simple and rough.
Remembering my place, I step back and bow. “Your Highness.”
I meet her gaze, the tense air between us palpable. Her eyes are two chips of ice, narrowed in annoyance at my formal greeting. But it’s protocol.
After everything I lost the last time I broke the rules, I refuse to make that mistake again. I need to address her this way. Need the reminder of who we are to each other.
Need the reminder that any lingering feelings I may still have for her can never come to fruition.
“Lieu—Captain Lawson,” she responds.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard her voice since she left for Paris.
At first, I tried to avoid everything to do with her, always scrolling away or changing the channel when a story involving her came on, the pain of everything still too raw. But as time went on, I started paying attention. Watched interviews. Stayed up-to-date with her life in Paris.
No amount of interviews or phone conversations could have prepared me to hear her voice in person. That throaty voice that once moaned my name.
What I wouldn’t give to hear her moan my name one more time.
But that ship has sailed. I won’t allow myself to succumb to my desires. Not anymore.
And not because I’m now a member of the royal guard and swore a duty to serve and protect the royal family above all else. But because of the price we paid the last time we gave in to temptation. The last time I allowed lust to cloud my judgment.
Adam tried to warn me falling for Esme would be dangerous. And when I found his notebook detailing Jameson Gates’ relationship with the missing woman, Callie Sloane, I knew why, especially when I learned it was possible that Callie was seen as a threat to Jameson’s potential marriage to Esme and was made to disappear, although no evidence was ever found to support that theory.
Still, this was why he begged Esme to end things. I should have known my brother wouldn’t betray me like he did without a good reason. He did it to protect me.
I returned the favor by all but telling him I wished he were dead.
Hours later, hewasdead.
I may not have struck the match that lit the car on fire, but I feel just as responsible. Which is why I’ve spent the past nine years trying to make things right.
Falling back into my old habits — namely, this insane pull I still feel toward Esme — won’t make things right.
“May I introduce Mr. Tristan Hughes,” she continues, affection warming her eyes as she looks at the man standing beside her. “Tristan, this is Captain Creed Lawson, my brother’s CPO.”
Tristan extends his hand my way, his charismatic smile displaying his perfect teeth. “It’s a pleasure,” he says in an American accent that holds a subtle Texas drawl, hinting at what I know to be his roots from all the research I conducted when I learned he was dating Esme.
