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I give him a sardonic look. “They all had long legs. Pretty sure that’s one of your most stringent requirements. Must have long legs. Brains optional,” I say, as if reciting a personal ad.
“No it’s not.” He playfully punches my arm. “I’m more an ass man than anything. But I’m talking about the one in red. What was her name?” He leans his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes, concentrating as hard as he can in his inebriated state. “Carlie? Cammie? Cathy?”
I blow out a breath. “It was Alyse. Her name was Alyse.”
“Alyse. That’s it. I knew I was close.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure you were. Alyse and Carley, Cammie, and Cathy sound so much alike.”
“In my defense, I wasn’t really paying all that much attention to what she was saying. But how her lips moved. If you know what I mean.” He waggles his brows, but his slow reflexes make it look like he’s getting ready to nod off.
He probably is.
“So what do you think? Should I call her?”
“They’ll want to do a background check first,” I tell him, needing to be the voice of reason. “And make sure she signs an NDA.”
“That’s bloody bullshit,” Anderson declares loudly.
I glance at Xavier, noticing him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror.
While it's considered a privilege to serve as chief protection officer to the future king, it’s obvious Xavier is over it. While Anderson’s first in line, he’s also a twenty-six-year-old soldier about to leave on deployment in a few months. Who will most likely be forced to get married the second his military service is over. While I don’t condone him wanting to sleep around, I can’t blame him.
And I can appreciate his frustration with all the hoops he has to jump through to bring a girl home. All things normal people would never have to worry about.
All things I’ve never had to worry about.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Anders. When you’re thinking a bit more clearly. And with your head instead of your dick.”
“But my dick wants her,” he whines.
I pat his shoulder. “And if your dick still wants her tomorrow, we’ll figure it out.”
He groans. “Just once I’d like to meet a hot girl at a bar and be able to bring her home. Not have to get her full name so my security team can run a background check on her. Sometimes…” He sighs. “Sometimes this life sucks. I mean, look at Esme.”
I whip my eyes toward his. “What about Esme?”
“Oh come off it, Creed. You know what I’m talking about. You don’t actually think she likes that guy. Do you?”
I maintain an even expression. While I may be aware of the circumstances of her relationship with Jameson, they do seem happy. At least they did in the clips they showed on TV that I couldn’t stop watching. Do I think there’s a connection there?
I don’t know.
But it could have been much worse.
Like I told her… Jameson Gates is a good guy. Even served four years in the military, despite his family having more wealth than the royal family probably does.
“They make a beautiful couple,” I say impassively, not wanting Anderson to read too much into my answer. Or worse — Xavier. “I have no doubt they’ll be quite happy.”
“Happy,” he scoffs. “Happiness in this life is an illusion. Something we make the masses believe so they don’t see the truth.”
His candor surprises me. He’s typically a happy drunk.
Perhaps he’s held it in for long enough and is done masking his frustration with humor.
“What truth is that?”
He brings his gaze to mine just as Xavier pulls up to the security gate outside Gladwell Palace. “That we’d do anything to be able to make one decision of our own.” He holds my gaze for a beat. “I’d love to be able to go home with a pretty girl without having to get permission to fuck her. Just like Esme…” He trails off. “Well, I’m not sure what Esme would like, but she wouldn’t willingly choose to be with Jameson.”
