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She snuck a glance at Ray. She shouldn’t have. His jaw looked like it’d been carved from granite, his blue eyes colder than she’d ever seen them.
“I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” Tristan continued. “We can start pretending to be in love, practice around Kiera so we’re ready for the press release in the morning.” His smile was gentle and understanding. “I don’t expect you to act when other people aren’t around, and you don’t need to worry about me taking any liberties. I would feel weird, since we are paying you to be here.” His smile became more genuine and teasing as he glanced at his brother. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to spend a lot of time with this guy, since he won’t relinquish the investigation and protection detail to anyone.”
“Sounds great.” Macey didn’t mind more time with Ray. If she could keep herself from admitting how much she liked him. Her stomach rolled at the thought of a press conference in the morning. She tried to push her glasses tighter onto her face and realized, once again, they weren’t there. Why had she let Sutton make off with them?
She’d imagined the research and protection detail would be much easier than pretending to love the crown prince. She thought she’d be awkward and uncomfortable with Tristan and all the royals. Thankfully, they were great and made her feel comfortable. The problem was she didn’t want to hold hands, hug, and especially kiss Tristan. She wanted his brother. These two men looked like carbon copies, but she was insanely attracted to one and the other felt like a friend.
What if the press could tell she and Tristan had no chemistry or romantic interest in each other? Him holding her hand and kissing it stirred nothing in her. Absolutely nothing.
Now that she’d kissed Ray, she was ruined for kissing anyone else. She let her gaze flick to him. His fists were clenched, the muscles in his arms flexed.
Tristan followed her gaze and gave his brother a questioning glance. “Ray will take good care of you.”
Macey pulled in a quick breath. Did Tristan realize she was interested in his twin? She had to stop staring at Ray. Once again, she stressed that she wasn’t the right person for this job. She had no clue how to act correctly in any of these situations, and she had nothing or no one to hide behind.
“Tristan?” the king called. “They’re on.”
“See you tonight.” Tristan stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.
“Thank you,” she managed.
Macey felt Ray’s presence overwhelm her. Had he moved closer? Without the buffer of Tristan, she could smell him, feel him. She wanted to taste him again. Oh, my, she was in trouble.
She glanced up at him, and his blue gaze conveyed he was struggling as much as she was. Could that kiss have affected him? It couldn’t possibly have affected him as deeply as it had her. She was a simple girl who hardly dated, and he was an impressive, handsome general and prince. Could he be interested in her, despite their differences? How could she go about asking such questions?
He took a step closer, resting his hand on the doorframe above her head. Macey’s pulse quickened and liquid fire filled her veins. His blue eyes consumed her. “Macey, I …”
Quick steps approached, and Ray stepped back and let his arm drop.
Lieutenant General Cordon strode up. “Forgive me, General. I got caught on a call from Captain Sullivan.”
“Nothing to forgive. I appreciate all you’re doing, and I know you’re stretched thin.”
“Thank you, sir.” Cordon inclined his head.
“Anything to report?” Although Ray was at least twenty years younger than Cordon, he was every inch the general—confident, accomplished, and in charge. He reminded her of Sutton. A man who was a natural-born leader and a highly trained weapon, but who also cared deeply for others. Could Ray love Macey deeply like Sutton did Liz?
Oh, my. She could not go there. Sutton and Liz had loved each other for thirty years and they were the perfect match for each other.
“Nothing unusual. A few tourists who weren’t happy with the thorough searches of their vehicle and luggage.” He shrugged and looked at Macey. “Most European countries have very lax border patrol, only random checks. We’ve always been vigilant, but since the Queen’s death, the terms we hear most are ‘over the top’ and ‘extreme’.”
“I can imagine.” She looked at Ray. A muscle was working in his jaw. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a beloved parent and then have the job of trying to find their murderer and keep everyone safe. She didn’t have much of any kind of parent, so she’d never understand. “Do you think it was a tourist?”
“Not necessarily.” Ray shook his head and clenched his fists. “We’re just turning every stone.”
“Okay.” Macey didn’t want to say it, but in her opinion there were three options—whoever killed the queen was brilliant and had hidden their tracks so well they may never find him or her; Ray and his people weren’t skilled in crime solving and mistakes had been made that would muddy the investigation; or it truly had been suicide.
She didn’t mention any of this to Ray, though she’d have to eventually.
“Excuse us.” Ray nodded to Cordon, put his hand on Macey’s lower back, and directed her to the next door. When Tristan had put his hand on her lower back, Macey had felt a hand. When Ray replicated the exact move, she felt warmth, tingles, anticipation …
She was a mess.
Ray removed his hand to open the door, and she felt an immediate let down. He gestured for her to walk inside. She did, and she fell in love with this space.
The wall of windows overlooked the lush valley. They were high enough that the lakes she’d spotted driving in and the picturesque village looked smaller. Everything was green and gorgeous. The mountains surrounding them arched so high the tops were rocky and bluish-gray, even had some spots of snow on this May day.
The desk was a deep brown, almost black wood and took up a third of the space. The flooring was alternating light and brown grains of wood. She loved the contrast. The wall behind her was covered with screens showing camera angles of the castle’s hallways, exterior, and rotating through different rooms.
