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He also did not notice how perfectly flawless the crown prince’s bare chest was. Or how his white skin had a light tan that covered every inch Jeremiah could see and looked completely smooth, his narrow chest flushing the longer they stared at each other. Or the fact that his arms and abs weren’t rippling with muscles, but there was strength hidden behind all that attitude, his swimmer’s body lean but not weak.
He didn’t notice any of that because he was a brat and a protectee. He was more than off-limits. He wasn’t a person to Jeremiah; he was just a job.
He reminded himself of that over and over again as he slowly backed out of the room, praying he wasn’t about to sport wood in front of the four-year-olds still staring at him curiously over their brother’s shoulders.
He almost made it to safety.
He was one step from escaping the room so that he could dash down the hallway to his borrowed bedroom when Remi’s eyes narrowed. Jeremiah could see the guy remembering that he didn’t like him, his whole expression souring before he said in a condescending voice, “The twins and I will be taking our breakfast downstairs by the pool. That is unless you think I’m too stupid not to drown myself in the water.”
Usually, Jeremiah was able to keep his cool no matter what a client said or did. That was his job. It was his business and his name on the line at the end of the day. He didn’t fuck around when it came to jobs. But between the late night, the unexpected early morning, and the lack of caffeine, he found himself narrowing his eyes right back. He could tell that they were beginning to glow with his ire. “Well, little princeling, I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
He could hear Remi’s teeth grinding together as he turned and walked back to his bedroom to get dressed. He had a feeling Remi wouldn’t be waiting for him.
* * *
“At least the food is good there, right? I bet it’s really good. They probably have, like, personal chefs from all over come in and make food and all kinds of delicacies and—”
“Priest,” Jeremiah interrupted, knowing that the guy could go on and on about eating if he wasn’t stopped. Demons and their insatiable appetites, after all. “I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I don’t know, but I assume they have a private chef or five, yes.”
Priest huffed in his ear but didn’t remark about the food anymore. Instead, he brought the conversation back around to why Jeremiah had called him—to check in and see if he or any of the others had any leads about who had attacked the royal family. He knew it was doubtful they had anything yet, but after spending all morning watching Remi play with his siblings in the pool and having to exercise breathing techniques to stop himself from getting hard every time the prince stepped out of the water, dripping wet and grinning at the twins, he was praying for a break.
“Storm just got back from the Pearly Gates—”
Jeremiah interrupted again. “Why did you send Storm to the Pearly Gates and not just go yourself? You know how temperamental Azriel can be, especially when it comes to people he doesn’t know.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Jeremiah knew he was going to be annoyed by whatever was said next. He rubbed at his closed eyes, preparing himself.
Sure enough, Priest mumbled, “Well, I sort of got banned.”
Jeremiah sighed, wondering if dunking himself in the pool would relieve the throbbing in his temples. “Do I even want to know why?”
“I swear, I didn’t actually do anything wrong. One of the dancers claimed that I was using my powers on her, but I absolutely was not.”
Jeremiah frowned. “Azriel actually believed them?”
They had known the fallen angel who owned the strip club for a long time and had cultivated a beneficial relationship for both the agency and the Pearly Gates, passing information back and forth, keeping each other safe. He was surprised that the guy had so readily assumed the worst of Priest, especially considering Priest was there regularly to feed on some of the dancers. Consensually feed on them, that is. Azriel knew what was up and had never seemed to care as long as his employees agreed to the arrangement.
“He wasn’t there,” Priest said, sounding sulky. “It was that new manager of his that gets all high-and-mighty about the dancers. I tried to explain to him that I wouldn’t do that, that just because I’m an Incubus doesn’t mean I’m constantly using my thrall on people.”
“I know,” Jeremiah said quietly. “It’s fine. What did Storm find out?”
Priest took a deep breath and settled himself before saying, “He wasn’t able to talk to Azriel either. But I sent him with the names of some of the dancers who have talked to us in the past, and he was able to talk to two of them, I think, but neither of them had heard anything yet. It’s just a matter of time though. Something this sloppy? People will be talking about it. Bragging. They’ll get drunk, they’ll go in for a lap dance, and they’ll let something slip.”
Jeremiah wasn’t so sure. To him, it didn’t feel sloppy, even though neither kidnapping had been successful. His instincts were telling him the incidents had been more about testing the protection around the family than actually trying to take them. If they’d succeeded, he was sure they wouldn’t have thrown the crown prince back, but it smelled more like a… dress rehearsal than a fuckup to him.
He didn’t have any proof of that, so didn’t say anything to Priest, knowing his guys would keep looking either way. But he had a feeling the next time the group struck, the plan would be a little more sophisticated, and they would have a harder time keeping everyone safe.
Even as he thought it, he turned, finding Remi with his eyes, but he was in the same spot he had been the last time Jeremiah had looked over at him. He was in a lounge chair next to the pool, sunglasses firmly in place and earbuds stuffed in his ears. The twins had been dragged back inside an hour or so ago by a patient but firm nanny explaining it was time to come inside for lunch and then quiet time.
He had thought that Remi would go in too, but the prince had decided to spend the day lounging by the pool. It didn’t make sense to Jeremiah since he figured the crown prince would have princely duties and shit to do, but it did make him feel better that he hadn’t been wrong about his initial judgment of the young man after all. Jeremiah knew he attended university, but since he was home, that should have meant he had things to do, but apparently not.
He shook off the thought. It wasn’t his job to worry if the prince was being lazy or not.
“Get ahold of Azriel,” he said to Priest, refocusing on his phone call. “Have him rescind the ban on you so you can go in there tonight or tomorrow night and talk to a few more people.”
“Sure thing, Sunshine,” Priest said right away. “Is there anything else you want us to do?”
Jeremiah thought about it for a moment and then said, “I know that Storm and Knight are focusing on the correspondences the royal guards had eliminated as potential threats, but I want you to send Storm over to the university.”
