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“Come in,” I say, trying to sound casual as I grab a pillow to cover the mountain propping up the duvet like a tent pole.
Freddie enters, looming in the doorway and casting a dark shadow over the bed. He sniffs. Shit, does the air smell of sex?
“You’re on the first shift tomorrow,” he says. His voice is devoid of emotion, and his gaze flicks to the bathroom. He knows. Did he check Rose’s empty room first?
I don’t know why I was so quick to hide her. Even though I’ve done nothing wrong, I can’t help feeling bad about it. I’m hiding the woman he’s mourned for years in my bathroom after fucking her brains out. What kind of bastard does that make me?
Freddie and I have always been on the same side. Nothing has come between us since we first met at a summer school in France, a place where affluent families send their kids. Freddie’s older than me, and he stopped an American entitled prick called Zander Briarly from kicking my face in. We have been friends ever since.
I clear my throat and reply in a business-like fashion, “Of course.”
He nods. “Callen and I tracked the bullet, but it led to nothing.” His eyes stray to the closed door again. “Oh, and one more thing…”
Freddie marches over to my full-length mirror with ornate edging.
“What’re you doing?” I ask nervously, questioning whether he will take it down to smash it over my head.
“Taking this,” he says, pulling a tiny camera out. It’s no bigger than my smallest fingernail and is hidden behind the frame, poking through a gap.
My jaw drops. “What the…?”
“You can thank Callen in the morning,” he says gruffly. “Goodnight, Seb.”
He storms away and slams the door behind him. Fuck. If Freddie knew about the hidden camera, that means he saw us.
Rose pokes her head around the door, wrapped in a towel. “Is it just me, or was that awkward?” She steps back inside and plops herself on the bed. “What was he talking about removing?”
“Nothing,” I lie. Her knowing about Callen’s homemade porno won’t make her feel any more comfortable about staying here, and we need to keep her safe.
“Do you think he’s angry?” she asks, biting her lip. “About us?”
“He’ll get over it,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. “It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.”
I want to rewind the clock to when she was coming all over my cock and soaking me in her wetness. When I next see Callen, I’ll castrate him if he doesn’t delete the recording.
She tilts her head to the side and asks, “What did he mean by your shift tomorrow?”
“Why?” I ask. “Are you going to miss me?”
“Something like that.” She smiles. It lights up her entire face, and my heart skips a beat. “But I’m curious. What does a shift look like for a Duke?”
I wrap my arms around her to draw her back to bed. Everything feels better with her under the covers next to me.
“We protect people,” I say. “Right now, we’re watching over a rich arsehole who is convinced a serial killer is coming after him.”
“And are they?”
“I hope not,” I say, “because it’s my job to keep him safe.”
“But how can you guarantee his safety?” she asks. “You can’t watch someone twenty-four-seven.”
“No,” I say, “but we have security stationed outside his mansion all the time.”
“A mansion.” She trails her finger down my bare chest. “I’ve never been inside a mansion before.”
“Maybe I’ll take you one day,” I say. “I’m a royal, remember? There are lots of opportunities to go to parties in big houses.”
“I’d like that,” she says. “You owe me another date.”
