Code Name: Tiara, page 19
I shoot a victorious, smug smile at Marius, but he’s paying me no attention. He’s focused on Camille and whatever she’s saying now that they’ve taken seats at the table. I’m too far away to hear what they’re discussing, and I don’t want to, anyway. I’m confident I wouldn’t like the ease with which they communicate or the years upon years of friendship that serves as the basis for their easygoing ways.
Christ, I’m fucking jealous. Not of him having her in a sexual way, but of their goddamned friendship.
I want that with her.
Hell, maybe I will have that with her.
When I leave, can we continue a friendship?
I shake my head in answer to my own question and occupy myself with scanning the perimeter of the area we’re in. I know just beyond the veranda and the manicured lawns, past the rows of bushes and other plantings, there are dozens of security professionals patrolling the grounds. Camille is safe for now, but tomorrow might be another matter. The birthday party will be a test for us all.
It’s her laughter that pulls my attention her way. Marius is laughing too, and whatever has been said, it’s funny enough to have her holding her stomach.
Fuck, she’s beautiful when she laughs. I mean, she’s beautiful all the time, but when she does that, it lights me up from inside. There have been many times over these last two weeks I’ve seen that laugh, and it never gets old.
Movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention, and I see Dmitri coming out onto the veranda from another set of doors to my left. Paul is with him, and both men wear a grave expression. My heart beats a little faster, and my eyes move back to Camille, staying there even when they reach me.
“She’s safe,” Dmitri says in a low voice. “There’s no new threat.”
Relief forces air back into my lungs, and I give him my attention. “Then what is it?”
“Paul will stay here with the princess,” Dmitri informs me. “I need you to come to the security offices.”
“Why?” I ask, unwilling to leave my post until I know more. I like Paul. Trust him, even. But Camille is my responsibility.
“Because this thing might be over,” Dmitri says, and I’m not prepared for the myriad of emotions that rush through me.
Mostly, relief that Camille is safe.
Regret that our time together will be shortened.
Mostly relief.
I nod at Paul, then back to Dmitri. “Let’s go.”
Glancing back at Camille, I see her focus is one hundred percent on her friend, and she doesn’t see me leave. Paul can fill her in later, but for now, I’m very interested to see what Dmitri has to show me.
We wind our way through the palace to the security offices. He leads me into his office and around his desk and points at his computer monitor. On it is the picture of a woman—beautiful, but disheveled with red eyes and mascara running down her cheeks. She’s blond, appears to be in her mid-forties, and based on the plain background, her direct stare into the camera and the look of utter defeat on her face, I’m guessing it’s a mug shot.
“Who is that?” I ask Dmitri.
“Colette Francine Winterbourne,” he replies, and my gaze leaves the monitor and snaps to his.
“Winterbourne?” It had been suspected the king’s first-in-line male cousin would be behind the plot, so the photo of a female is surprising.
Dmitri nods. “She was arrested a few hours ago by Europol in Brussels.”
That also gets my attention. Europol is the European Union Agency for Law Enforcement Cooperation. The potential kidnapping and assassination of the Winterbourne royals has garnered more than just Interpol’s interest.
“And she’s responsible for an assassination plot?” I ask dubiously. Because she looks… well, like a high-society matron who got caught on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
“She’s the wife to Wilhelm Winterbourne, the cousin who’s next in line to the throne should Thomas and Camille die.”
“The wife is responsible for this?” I ask incredulously.
Dmitri smiles wryly. “It took about six hours of hard interrogation, but they’re confident she’s the mastermind. She apparently was doing this for her son, who would be next in line after Wilhelm.”
“So her plan was to have Thomas and Camille assassinated, have her husband placed on the throne, and then what? Was she going to kill him, too, so her son could ascend?”
Shaking his head, Dmitri says, “She admits to setting up an assassination of Thomas and Camille but swears she had no intention of offing her husband.”
“And you believe her?” I ask, because I sure as fuck don’t.
Again, Dmitri shakes his head. “She was doing this all for her son. I doubt she was going to let her husband have a lengthy spin on the throne.”
I take my eyes off the woman on the screen. Women could be vicious. “Were the son and husband involved at all?”
“The police don’t think so. They were both interrogated, but all their cell phone records have been analyzed, and she’s the only one who had communication with the men being watched in Turkey. She’s denied their involvement.”
“She’d deny her son’s involvement even if he was in on it,” I point out. “After all, this was done for him. You can’t trust her denial.”
“I agree we can’t trust her on that,” Dmitri says and looks at me expectantly. “Regardless, we are at a crossroads.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Colette Winterbourne went as far as to pay a deposit for the job with the balance due on completion,” Dmitri explains. “She doesn’t know the details of when it will happen as she went through a middleman, only that it will happen before Camille’s twenty-fifth birthday. The plan is still in motion and will be carried out by one assassin.”
“Then have her call it off,” I grit through my teeth.
“We have a chance to take this entire operation.” Dmitri’s expression is hardened with resolution. “Get them out of the game. If they pass on this job, they’ll move on to the next.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I snarl. “You’re talking about playing with Camille’s life.”
“And Thomas’s,” Dmitri says softly. “And he feels like we should move forward with the birthday party. We know that’s when the assassin is most likely to make a move.”
“I won’t agree to it,” I bark. “And I won’t let Camille.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want, but Camille will have a say. Thomas will speak to her.”
The urge to punch Dmitri is strong. I also understand where he’s coming from, but my judgment is clouded because of my feelings. “This is ridiculous to even consider.”
“Jackson,” Dmitri says softly, his expression telling me he gets my dilemma. “We don’t know that the son or husband isn’t in on this. We don’t think they are, but if we don’t stop this in its entirety, Thomas and Camille will still be in danger. By arresting the hit man, we can find out for sure who was doing the hiring. You know it’s the best way to end this once and for all. It also sends the message to anyone else making a play for the throne.”
Christ, I know he’s right. But that’s like dangling Camille out there by a hook.
On the flip side, she’s going to be dangled, regardless. The party is going forward, except now we know there is a very clear threat. Before it was a lot of supposition.
“We know it’s coming,” Dmitri presses. “So now we can better prepare. We can station fifty guards around both Thomas and Camille.”
I’m not sure why he’s working so hard to convince me. If Thomas has approved we move forward, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Unless…
My eyes narrow at him. “You’re worried I’ll convince Camille to boycott the party or convince her father not to move forward.”
“Yes,” he says grimly. “I think you have the power to halt all of it. But I think you’d be making the wrong decision. Like I said, we can place an army around them.”
I shake my head, and Dmitri sighs.
“No,” I say, as he has misinterpreted my head shake. “You can’t place an army around them. That will only deter the assassin, and you want to draw them out.”
Dmitri smiles.
He knows I’m on board because I’m now pointing out strategies or really, the lack thereof.
“I’d still like to talk to Thomas and Camille.”
“To convince them otherwise?” Dmitri guesses.
“To make sure they understand my concerns. We can have Colette call off the assassin and let Europol and Interpol find him.”
Dmitri sighs. “Thomas was sending for Camille when I came to get you. He’s talking to her now.”
Son of a bitch. Part of this was to fill me in, but part of this was to get me away from Camille so her father can convince her this is the right play. Thomas doesn’t know the influence I might have over Camille, but Dmitri does.
Asshole.
I pivot and storm out of the office to find Camille and her father.
CHAPTER 22
Camille
I moan in my sleep. Something feels very, very good. Warm, insistent… right between my legs.
At that sweet spot.
These are the best kind of dreams, and I envision the dark hair on Jackson’s head as I glance down my dream body. His mouth working with so much dedication, as he always does. Almost every single time we’re together, he uses his mouth to get me off. He loves oral sex, and I’ve found it’s one of my favorite things as well.
I want this dream to go on and on and on. I reach down, touch my fingers to his silky hair, and feel a grumbling groan from his mouth against my sensitive flesh. My hips jerk upward and he laughs darkly.
And then I’m coming so hard that I cry out and rotate my hips against him. Turning his face, he kisses the inside of my thigh, the lower part of my belly, and then right in the center of my chest as he moves up my body. Jackson’s lips travel up my neck, slide over my jaw, and then to my ear. “It’s time to wake up, Camille.”
I don’t want to leave the dream. I want to stay here forever because this is perfect and it’s all I’ll have after Jackson leaves.
“Come on, Princess,” he murmurs, leaning down and biting my lower lip. “Wake up.”
My eyes fly open and I see Jackson hovering over me with a smile on his face. I lift my head and look down between our bodies to see that I’m naked and he’s naked and the area between my legs is still tingling from an orgasm.
My eyes fly to his, flaring with accusation. “Did you… Did you just…?”
His teeth flash at me as he chuckles. “Didn’t think you would sleep through the entire thing. The princess even orgasms while she sleeps. Fucking amazing.”
I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe he put his mouth between my legs while I was dead asleep. Seeing how far he could go, how much he could push my body. Apparently it is so in tune with him, it didn’t require consciousness to respond.
Jackson’s right… fucking amazing.
During that brief glance between our bodies, I didn’t fail to notice his rock-hard erection. I spread my legs, wrap them around the backs of his thighs, and try to pull him into me. I lean up and nibble along his jaw. “Now let’s see what else you can do.”
Rather than slide into me, Jackson rolls onto his side. Planting his elbow in the mattress, he props his head in his hand and looks down at me with a satisfied and slightly smug look. “Not gonna happen. That orgasm I gave you was an early birthday present.”
“But it’s not my birthday for another six days.”
“Well, your party is tonight, so happy birthday party day. I hope you like the present I gave you.”
My inclination is to laugh, but I stare at him suspiciously. This is a far cry, an absolute polar shift in attitude, from what I saw yesterday.
Yesterday was not a good day between us. It started out lovely, but then my father stole me away from Marius and summoned me to the throne room where he explained that Colette Winterbourne was behind the assassination plots.
He told me she was in custody and that she had the ability to call off the hits. But after discussing this with my father and Dmitri, I agreed that we should let the party go forward and try to lure out the assassin. There are a variety of reasons for doing this, but I’m on board because I want the world to know that nobody messes with the Winterbourne monarchy. By shutting down this wretched conspiracy in its entirety and bringing those involved to justice, we will send a very clear message to anyone else who tries.
Essentially… don’t fuck with us.
This discussion was held in the throne room with only me, my father, and Dmitri. It didn’t mean that Jackson didn’t try to gain entry. He made quite the commotion as he attempted to push past the security agents at the doors. He dropped one of them to the ground and was working on the other when Dmitri threw open the door and demanded he stop.
Jackson tried to storm the room; Dmitri tried to hold him back. His eyes went to mine over Dmitri’s shoulder, and he promised retribution if I didn’t give him a say.
I moved to Jackson and attempted to sound as regal and commanding as possible so that my father wouldn’t have any indication that we have a personal connection. “If you will give me just a few more minutes with my father and Dmitri, I will be happy to hear your concerns, Mr. Gale.”
His face flushed with fury, and I was quite confident Jackson was going to spill the beans about our relationship right then and there so that he could stay in the room. To my surprise, he merely gave me a curt nod, turned his glare to Dmitri, and then pivoted to leave.
I later found him on the veranda, standing post and staring at Marius, still at the table sipping a beer and surfing his phone. I was hesitant to approach Jackson because I’d never seen him so angry before. He looked just as angry when I walked out, so it was most definitely not the right time to talk.
I said loudly enough for the other two agents to hear, “Mr. Gale, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue my lunch with Marius. I’d appreciate you standing post.”
In other words, he’d have to wait until later to talk about this.
Jackson couldn’t do anything about it. He was not about to make a scene, but I knew I’d made him even angrier. And the longer I sat at that table with Marius, the more lines of fury deepened on his face.
Now, I was starting to dread any confrontation. So naturally, I extended my time with Marius.
Jackson was standing far enough away that he couldn’t hear our conversation and Marius regaled me with how Jackson had come out onto the veranda to await my return and glared at him the entire time.
When we had finished eating and conversed about everything under the sun, when we could not legitimately stay at that table one more minute without it looking like I was purposely avoiding Jackson, I made the suggestion that we go swimming. It was, after all, our original intention to do so.
Turned out, Jackson could get angrier. I tried to ignore him but it wasn’t working. Marius and I swam laps, treaded water in the deep end while we talked and I put off the inevitable because every time I glanced over at Jackson, he not only looked furious but he looked let down.
There came a time, though, when he was done with my game of avoidance. He strolled up to the edge of the pool down in the deep end where we were. He pulled up his well fit pants slightly so he could squat before me and said, “It’s time to get out of the fucking pool, Camille, so we can talk.”
Marius knew about my relationship with Jackson. It was the first thing I’d told him when we sat down and Dmitri had taken Jackson off somewhere—which I had later realized it was to talk about Colette Winterbourne’s capture—and he was thrilled that I was walking on the wild side.
But Marius made a choking sort of noise when Jackson told me to get out of the fucking pool because he had never heard a person talk to me like that before.
Shocked and offended on my behalf, he sputtered, “How dare you speak to—”
Jackson’s hot gaze snapped to Marius and he said, “Stay the fuck out of it or I will hurt you.”
“Jackson!” I exclaimed in fury. “You can’t—”
Jackson rose upright and said in a low, dangerous voice as he stared down at me, “Get out of the pool, Camille. Get your dress back on and follow me to your room so we can talk. This is not a request. You’ve got until the count of ten before I haul you out of that pool and carry you over my shoulder, which as I’m sure you’ll agree, will be quite the spectacle.”
I wasn’t about to test him. I scrambled out of the pool, giving an apologetic look to Marius and then assuring him it was okay. And then, doing exactly as Jackson asked, we made our way to my room.
Once in there, we went at it like cats and dogs. Like literally… Jackson was barking his dismay at me and I was hissing like a cat seething in anger. The dividing line was the birthday party and he did not want me to attend. He was completely fine if the party went on and if an assassin wanted to take a shot at my dad, so be it. But he did not want me in there.
I told him it was impossible to have a birthday party celebrating my coming-of-age to ascend to the throne and not attend.
The fight reached a boiling point when I told him that the party was a long-standing tradition, something he clearly had lack of respect for.
Jackson’s eyes flashed and then went flat. It was clear I was inferring his lack of respect extended back to the fact he chose not to stay in the navy as a career, something his family had a long-standing history of doing.
I immediately started mumbling apologies but Jackson turned on his foot and stormed out of my room, slamming the door shut behind him. I knew Jackson well. I knew he hadn’t gone anywhere and was merely standing out in the hallway with the other two agents. He took his duties seriously and was not about to leave his protective role no matter how pissed he was or if I had hurt his feelings.
I waited for almost an hour before I swung the door open and demanded he come back inside. Enough time had passed. Surely cooler heads were ready to prevail.
