CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"MISSCLARK?"

Esme stood and smiled at the young man who gave her a friendly smile as he walked out of a boardroom.

"Yes," she replied as she shook his hand.

"Welcome to Executive Security."

She stepped inside and blinked at the jaw-dropping view of New York City's Brooklyn Bridge and the East River flowing beneath it.

Two other people, a man and a woman, sat at the table. They both gave her pleasant smiles as she sat in the offered chair.

"We've spoken to your former employer."

Her smile froze on her face.

"Yes?"

"Exemplary," the woman said. "They were sorry to lose you."

Relief made her so weak she had to resist the urge to sink back into the plush office chair.

"It was hard to leave."

"Why did you?" the man who'd greeted her asked.

"I've lived in Rodina my whole life. I needed a change of scenery. And my mother lives here."

Not that it had impacted her decision in the slightest. She'd reached out to let her mother know she was in town, her first time in the States in nearly ten years. Her mother, predictably, had been on a cruise in the Bahamas and rushed to get off the phone and back to her husband.

Instead of making her feel sorry for herself, it had been cathartic in a way. Her mother would always be the way she was. Her focus on herself, her inability to enjoy motherhood, hadn't been Esme's fault. Neither was her father's inability to see her as anything more than her accomplishments.

Something Julius's blunt assessment had helped her realize.

She swallowed hard. Julius cropped up far too often in her thoughts. She shoved him away and tried to focus on the people in front of her. But doubt kept plaguing her.

Did she even want another bodyguard position? Would that make her happy? She'd originally gone into the profession to make her father happy, but now...

They asked her a few questions, but she could tell it was mostly to tick the boxes. Whoever they'd spoken to in Rodina, coupled with the fact that she had been on a security detail for an actual prince, had impressed them. She'd built up the kind of reputation that made her the perfect candidate for any security job.

"Last question," the woman asked. "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

Esme froze.

"I'm..." She offered up a slight smile, one that hopefully would pacify. "I'm not sure. Leaving Rodina was a big step for me."

"Of course." The woman returned her smile with a kind one of her own. "How about what you want out of your life? What do you want out of your career? What's important to you?"

Julius.

The sudden surety of her unspoken answer floored her. She wanted Julius. Loved him. Had had the chance to be with him and had shunned it out of fear of losing her newfound independence, of being shoved into yet another box and smothered with someone else's expectations.

When he'd proposed, she had been so focused on how he'd had everything planned out, a plan he hadn't bothered to ask her about, that she had let pain overtake her, keep her from telling him her own feelings and what she needed. What would allow her to accept his proposal.

And Rodina...being a queen, leading a country, might not be her first choice of a job. It would come with scrutiny, long hours and rules. So many rules. But she had been so afraid of accepting the role in the form Julius had presented it to her that she hadn't stopped to think about what she could do. What she would do if given the chance to be a leader.

She hadn't stopped to talk to Julius, to ask him, to challenge him. She'd been so afraid of what his answer might have been that she had chosen to run instead of standing and fighting for herself, for them and what they could be.

"Miss Clark?"

Esme blinked. Three faces were regarding her with mixtures of concern and confusion.

"I'm sorry." She stood and smoothed her hands over the bottom of her suit jacket. "I don't think this role is for me. I thought I needed something else in my life. But it turns out I was wrong. Thank you for your time. I'm sorry to have wasted it."

And with that she turned and walked out.

Her foot tapped an impatient rhythm as the elevator descended. She needed to do something, find a way to meet with Julius and tell him everything. Would he accept a phone call? A text message?

No.That was the coward's way out. This was the kind of conversation that required them to be face-to-face. She pulled out her phone. Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed out an email request for a meeting at His Highness's earliest convenience.

Then, before she could lose her nerve, she hit "send."

Forty-eight hours later, Esme stared at the key in her hand as she stood in front of the hotel elevator. The number embedded in the platinum card stared back at her, taunted her.

Room 333. The penthouse suite where she and Julius had spent the night together.

Did Fate just have it out for her?

No, she thought as she rubbed at her temple. It was only natural that the suite be rented out to royalty, politicians and other important guests. With its location at the top of The Martinique, it was not only well protected but offered exquisite views of Paris and the Eiffel Tower.

A sigh escaped her. When she had received the email requesting her presence in Paris to meet with the king less than an hour after she'd emailed Julius, her stomach had dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. Did the king want to question her? Grill her as to why she had spent a week in Grenada with his son? Or perhaps he had found out about her affair with Julius. She no longer worked for the royal security team, so no risk of getting fired. But he could still make life very difficult for her.

Worse was the possibility that Julius had forwarded her email to his father and asked him to intervene. Her email had been formal, simply asking for a meeting. She should have gone through the proper channels, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to email the public relations office or his secretary. Burak hadn't called or texted since she'd called him to let him know where Julius was. Her father had also been strangely silent, his incessant phone calls dropping off.

The possibility that someone had uncovered her week with Julius had dogged her steps the past two days, from the soaring steel towers of New York City to the sprawling arrondissements of Paris.

She stepped inside and held up the key card. The elevator rose, carrying her closer and closer to the mysterious meeting with King Francisco. She had met the king on a few occasions. He had even come to her hospital room to thank her when she had been recovering from the parade accident. A skilled but kind, compassionate leader.

Would he show her kindness now? Or savagery as he protected his son and the reputation of the crown?

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open again. She tamped down her nervousness and stepped inside.

The suite was exactly the same. Warm wood floors gleaming under the golden rays of the setting sun. Ivory-colored furniture offset by red and blue pillows that added color to the elegant surroundings. A fireplace trimmed in white, the hearth filled with a vase of flowers for the summer season instead of burning logs.

And beyond the sitting room, glass doors thrown open to the balcony and the Eiffel Tower standing proudly over Paris.

She'd stood in that doorway, just out of sight, with Julius at her back. He'd slid her shirt up and over her head, placing heated, sensual kisses on her neck as he'd undone the clasp on her bra and then reached out around to fill his hands—

"Your Highness?" she called out, partially to stop the flow of memories and partially because she realized, with a quick glance, that the suite was empty.

No one answered.

Frowning, she pulled up the email on her phone and reread it. Labeled with the royal family's official seal at the top, the email was brief. It requested her presence on the twelfth of June at seven o'clock in the penthouse suite of The Martinique in Paris for a meeting with His Majesty the King.

"I prefer this meeting to Grenada."

Esme's head snapped up. She stared as Julius walked out of the door that led to the bedroom. His dress shirt showcased the breadth of his shoulders. He'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, the white material stark against his tan skin. Her eyes traveled up, over his chest and up his neck to his heartbreakingly familiar brown eyes.

"You...where is..."

"I think I need to mark this on the calendar, too. The first time Esmerelda Clark stuttered."

She heard the teasing in his voice and resisted. She squared her shoulders and drew herself up, shoving away all of her emotions.

"Your Highness. My apologies for intruding. I received an email—"

"May I see it?"

She stifled her irritation at being interrupted and handed over her phone, taking care to ensure her fingers didn't brush his. His eyes moved over the words.

"Ah, yes. I think there's a typo."

"A typo?"

"Yes, it shouldn't have said ‘His Majesty the King.' It should have read ‘His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.'" He looked up, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Oops."

Confused, unsure of what to expect, overwhelmed by the memories surrounding her, she took a step back. Julius's arm shot out, his hand grabbing her elbow. Words of protest died on her lips as he yanked her against him before sliding one arm across her back and another beneath her knees. With a small shriek, she found herself lifted into the arms of Crown Prince Julius Carvalho.

"Put me down."

"Not until you promise not to run away."

She groaned and closed her eyes, trying desperately to ignore how good it felt to be cradled by him once more.

"I don't understand."

She felt him lean in closer, felt the heat of his body. A moment later his forehead touched hers and she drew in a shuddering breath. That such a simple touch could affect her so much frightened her.

"Esmerelda. Look at me."

She slowly opened her eyes but kept her gaze fixed over his shoulder on the Eiffel Tower.

"I can't look at you, Julius. Not yet. I know I requested a meeting, but I thought I would have time to prepare myself."

"Fine. Then just listen."

Perhaps it was worse not to look at him. Because not looking at him aroused her other senses, made her more aware of the rumble of his voice in his chest, the cords of muscle in his arms as he gripped her close.

He walked with her to the glass doors. She started to protest as he walked onto the balcony, then stopped as he sat down on a lounge, still cradling her like she was a precious jewel.

"You were right."

"Of course I was."

She felt his smile.

"I hurt you."

She started, but kept her gaze averted. Her heart thudded in her chest. This had been part of the risk she had accepted when she'd sent that email. Telling him what she needed, sharing her own feelings, could still result in heartbreak. But at least she would have given it her all, tried to advocate for herself instead of simply submitting or running away.

"Yes. You did." She let out a breath. "Although I imagine I did my fair share of hurting."

"Yes." He pressed his cheek against her hair, a shuddering sigh whispering over her face. "I took away your choice. Again."

Her eyes grew hot.

"Yes. But I—"

"Let me apologize, Esmerelda. Then you can have your turn to grovel."

She faced him then, lightly punched his shoulder. "Who said I'm going to grovel?"

"Call it intuition." His smile disappeared as his eyes darkened with regret. "I wanted you so badly, Esmerelda. I knew I could make it work, so I did. I thought you wanted me, too."

"I—"

He kissed her then, a smoldering kiss she felt all the way to her toes.

"Whether you did or not, I assumed. I made plans for you. I've been leading for so long I did what I always do. Make plans, execute them. When you didn't jump at the chance to wear the ring, I took it as you rejecting what I had offered. A monumental offer, given my predilection of avoiding emotion. But," he said as he kissed the tip of her nose, "I was still holding back. I told myself I was risking enough. Giving enough."

She swallowed hard. "It wasn't fair of me to push for so much so soon. That doesn't mean," she said quickly as he opened his mouth to interject, "I don't deserve it. But you did offer me a great deal, Julius, and I let my own past get the better of me instead of giving it some time or having a conversation. I tried to be independent instead of listening to my own heart. I asked questions, but I didn't tell you what I needed from you, what I could bring to throne." She lowered her head. "You were right. I did run away."

"Perhaps if I had told you..."

His voice trailed off. His arms tightened around her as he stood and carried her to the railing. The Eiffel Tower came to life as he set her on her feet, light glittering across the iron structure.

"I love you." He lowered his forehead to hers. "I've loved you for so long."

Happiness spread through her, swirling through her chest and filling her body until she felt as if she could float. He cradled her face with such tenderness she couldn't hold back a tear from escaping.

He swiped away the tear with a finger. "I suspect I've made you cry far too many tears in our time together."

"Yes." She reached up and let her hand settle on his cheek. "But love often involves tears. And I do love you, Julius."

A harsh breath escaped him.

"Just like I didn't know what I had done to deserve such loyalty from a young woman, I don't know how I deserve your love."

"It was nothing you had to earn, Julius. I gave it freely because of who you are." She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. "I should have told you in Grenada. Should have told you what I needed from you, what I wanted. But I was too afraid. I accused you of not talking to me, and then I did the exact same thing. You offered me so much then, and I was so wrapped up in my own pain I could only see my own fears and not what you had overcome to even make that proposal." She bit down on her lower lip, looked away. "I'm sorry."

He grasped her chin in his fingers and tilted her face up so he could look her in the eye.

"I told you that day in the hospital that I was humbled to be the recipient of such loyalty. Today," he whispered softly as he leaned in, "I am humbled to be loved by such an incredible woman. One who gives despite having so much withheld. One who can look at herself and what she needs to change, who wants to grow beyond her boundaries or the restrictions others place on her. One who I love deeply and who I can only hope will one day forgive me for holding myself back."

The words drifted around her, beautiful words that made hope and longing surge in her chest so fiercely in that moment she felt like she could fly.

Except reality held her back. He might love her now. But what did that mean? A tragic parting like the princess and the newspaper reporter in the old black-and-white movie she had watched on repeat in the late hours of the night, where they had admitted their love for one another and shared a bittersweet kiss before the princess had returned to her royal life?

"Julius, I... I appreciate you sharing how you feel."

One eyebrow shot up.

"‘Appreciate' is not exactly the kind of sentiment a man wants to hear after he's just professed love to a woman."

"How about ‘I love you, Julius'?"

He nodded once, then suddenly released her.

"One moment."

He disappeared. Flustered, she stepped away and moved to the balcony. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, focused on the lights of the Tower. Contentment settled over her, along with a peace that steadied her racing heart and brought a smile to her lips. For once, she was exactly where she wanted to be. He loved her. She loved him. She wanted to be with him. Whatever came next would come in its own time.

Footsteps sounded behind her. One deep breath, then another. She turned, ready to face him.

Her heart nearly burst as her mind registered that Julius was no longer standing but kneeling before her. In his hand lay the black jewelry box, the lid open and the speckled diamond gleaming with the rosy lights of a Parisian sunset.

"I'm not just asking you to become my wife, Esmerelda. What I'm asking is so much more, and it may be too much." Love burned in his eyes as he took her hand in his. "Just as you were ready to move forward, to be your own person, I'm asking you to become a servant of the people of Rodina. A servant to the country and all that entails. It has its merits, yes, but it also has hardships. Being under constant scrutiny, having your every choice questioned."

"You're not exactly selling this proposal," she said with a soft laugh. "And I'm nervous, Julius. I don't know how to be a queen."

"I am, too. But you are not only the woman I want. You're the queen Rodina deserves." His grip tightened on hers. "You love Rodina. You're intelligent. You care. Those traits mean more than anything anyone else could have brought to an arranged marriage. I believe that wholeheartedly. Which means I need to let go, to let you carve out your own path when it comes to your role if you choose to accept it."

Her eyes widened at the magnitude of what he was saying. That he would give up control, trust her to make her own choices as she helped him lead the country he loved, meant more than any ring ever could have.

The last weight hanging from her heart loosened, then fell away.

"Julius..."

"Maybe that's not enough," he continued. "But I can't live with knowing I had the chance to ask you to be my wife, to be the woman I want by my side, and didn't. I would rather move on knowing I took the risk, told you how much I love you, and you said no than go the rest of my life wondering what could have been."

The seeds of hope that had been steadily growing burst inside her chest. Her smile grew until it nearly hurt, she was smiling so hard.

"Tell me that's a yes, Esmerelda."

She nodded, barely able to choke out a "yes." He slid the ring onto her finger then stood, sweeping her into his arms and pulling her flush against him as he leaned down and sealed their engagement with a sensual, possessive kiss. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back, laughing against his lips as he picked her up and spun her around in a circle.

"It fits," she said, holding up her hand as he set her back on her feet. The diamond glittered, the tiny little black flecks dancing mischievously within the crystalline depths. The pearls gleamed, an innocent touch of beauty, while the aquamarine stones sparkled in the sun.

"It was always for you." He caught her chin in his hand, brought his lips to hers once more and kissed her until she clung to him. "I went to London to purchase a ring. I had a detective track you to Grenada, intended to follow you apologize and propose to you. Show you, not just tell you." He grasped her hand in his and raised it to his mouth. "This ring was designed for you, Esmerelda. Pearls for the wisdom and grace you carry, aquamarine for hope and happiness, and a salt-and-pepper diamond. Imperfectly beautiful, with flaws that make it stronger. And," he added with a kiss to her nose, "because it reminded me of your freckles. Your beautiful freckles."

She did cry then, tears coursing down her cheeks as he held her. What greater gift could she have asked for than a man who loved her, truly loved her and all her imperfections?

"I love you, Julius."

"And I love you, Esmerelda." He grasped her shoulders, held her back. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I know it won't be easy. It will take some getting used to. But I'm sure."

He watched her, eyes darting over her face as if looking for a sign that this was too good to be true.

"And this is what you want?"

"Yes." She stepped closer then, bringing her hands up to frame his face. "I emailed you from New York. I interviewed for a job there and they asked me what I wanted from my life. All I could think of was you. I almost told you back in Grenada that I wanted to be with you, but I was terrified that if I told you I wanted your love, it would be too much.

"Marrying you, becoming a queen, doesn't mean I still can't be myself. I get to combine one of my greatest passions with a new career. And," she added as she raised up on her toes, "I get to marry the man I love."

He crushed her to him.

"My queen," he murmured into her hair, "and tomorrow the whole world will know it."

"Tomorrow?"

"An engagement announcement, if you're willing. I want the world to know you're mine."

His possessive tone thrilled her, sent little sparks dancing through her veins.

"I'm more than willing."

"Good." He leaned, pressed his lips to her forehead. "Tonight, however," he murmured as he kissed her cheek, the tip of her nose, "I want you all to myself."

She took his hand, led him back into the bedroom as the lights of the Tower sparkled behind them. She laid on the bed, her breath catching in her chest as he lay next to her and pulled her body against his. As he lowered his mouth to hers, she smiled.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."