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Unlike her good self, who could not only conjure up his image oh, so easily, but his scent as well—woodsy and masculine. It was so vivid that he might as well have been in the room with her right now.
‘What does Wolfe have to do with anything?’
She had tried to keep the query light, but a sudden fear that her father knew that she had slept with him came at her from left field. Surely Wolfe hadn’t told anyone? The tabloids? Could her father’s health withstand a salacious story about her at this time?
‘I have to do with a lot of things, Your Royal Highness.’
The deep, familiar drawl from the man filling her head space had her twisting around in her seat to where he stood across the room, his body half turned away, as if he’d been doing nothing more than studying the scenery outside the high arched windows.
‘But in this case it’s about your safety.’
Her eyes drank in his beautifully cut black trousers and white dress shirt that pulled tight across his wide shoulders. He’d had a haircut, the shorter style drawing even more attention to the roguish quality of his perfect bone structure.
Those remembered toffee eyes were fixed on her face, touching her mouth ever so briefly, and Ava felt singed all the way through.
‘What about my safety?’ She hated that she sounded as breathless as she felt.
‘Monsieur Wolfe has some news concerning your car crash at Gilles’s château.’
She heard the underlying censure in her father’s tone and guessed that he was angry she hadn’t told him about the accident herself, but she had no time to ponder that as Wolfe prowled towards her, his loose-limbed gait impossibly graceful for a man his size.
He effortlessly dominated the large room and as he drew closer she realised that her heart was racing. He, of course, could have been a mummy for all the emotion he displayed.
Using years of practice to keep her expression from revealing any of her inner turmoil at having this man—her one-night lover—in the same room as her father, Ava forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. ‘Such as?’
‘Yesterday I spoke to the mechanic who repaired your car,’ he informed her, a touch of fierceness lining his words.
‘Why would you do that?’
‘A hunch.’
‘A hunch?’
‘Yes. One that paid off. You didn’t crash because of a loss of concentration. You crashed because a vial of potassium permanganate mixed with glycerine had been dropped into your brake master cylinder.’
Ava’s brow furrowed. ‘Is there a layperson’s version of that?’
‘Your brakes were tampered with.’
Did he mean deliberately? ‘Maybe they were worn.’
‘Yes. With a special chemical compound that, when it got hot enough, rendered your brakes useless.’
Ava struggled to digest what he was saying. ‘You think my car was deliberately sabotaged?’ The very idea was ludicrous. It was true that Anders had once experienced conflict with the neighbouring country of Triole, but that had died down years ago. Her brother had even been set to marry the young Princess of Triole when she came of age.
‘Not only that,’ her father interjected. ‘We now know that Frédéric’s helicopter crash was not an accident either.’
‘What?’ Ava’s startled gaze flew to her father. ‘I…How is that possible?’
Wolfe’s voice was hard when he answered. ‘A section of the rotor was altered in such a way that the pilot had no chance of detecting it.’
‘You’re suggesting Freddie was murdered?’
‘Not suggesting. Stating. And whoever did it went after you, too.’
Ava reflexively pressed her hand into her stomach. This was too much to take in. ‘But that is absurd. Who would do such a thing?’
‘Enemies. Freaks. Stalkers. Shall I go on?’ His tone was deadly serious.
‘Monsieur Wolfe has kindly agreed to investigate that side of things.’
‘Wolfe.’
He’d corrected her father. Something no man ever did. Half expecting him to put Wolfe in his place, she was surprised when her father nodded.
Men!
‘Really? You volunteered?’ Ava didn’t bother hiding her incredulity. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Ava!’ Her father’s reprimand at her outspokenness was loud and clear in the still room. ‘Wolfe hasn’t volunteered. I have hired him.’
Of course. She thought asininely. Why would a man who keeps his affairs short and shallow volunteer to help out a woman he is clearly finished with?
It galled her to recall just how many times she had checked her mobile phone for a missed message from him over the past weeks. She could have called him, she supposed, but pride had stopped her from even considering it. Calling him would only prove that she hadn’t been able to move on from their night together while he had.
‘Why would you do that, sir?’ Ava turned her back on Wolfe to try to block out the overwhelming physical attraction she still felt for him. ‘Why not use the local police?’
‘It’s a question of trust, Your Highness,’ Wolfe answered.
His frigid formality made her feel despondent, and that in turn made her feel annoyed. ‘We don’t trust our own police force now? We’re a peaceful nation, Monsieur Wolfe,’ she said, stamping her own formality on the situation. ‘No political uprisings anywhere.’
‘True. But in this situation you don’t know who is intending to hurt you. I won’t.’
His tone was bold and confident and she wished she shared his assurance. After the way she had dreamt about him for two weeks she wasn’t so sure. Although she did believe he wouldn’t hurt her in the way he was referring to.
His thick lashes acted like a shield against his thoughts and Ava couldn’t wait for the meeting to end. ‘I’m not sure I believe this.’ She appealed to her father. ‘It could just be coincidence.’
‘Chemical compounds kind of mitigate that possibility, Your Highness.’ Again Wolfe answered for her father.
‘I trust Wolfe’s judgement on this, Ava.’
Over her own? What a surprise.
‘Fine.’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘Is that all, sir?’ She needed to get out. Back to the sanctuary of her suite. Wolfe’s steely indifference was like a red rag to her overly sensitised senses.
On the one hand she was glad he was treating her like a stranger, but it made her feel inadequate when all she could do was remember the feel of his body when it had been joined to hers, his hands on her skin, his mouth…Oh, his mouth!
And Frédéric had been killed. Someone might be trying to kill her as well…
‘No, that is not all.’ Her father brought her attention back to him. ‘Wolfe has also been hired as your personal bodyguard for the duration of the investigation.’
The breath stalled in her lungs and the room spun. ‘I don’t think I heard you correctly, sir.’
Neither did Wolfe.
Her personal bodyguard?
He glanced at Ava’s shocked expression and hoped his own didn’t mirror it. The King had requested that he organise personal security for her, not that he be responsible for her himself. He didn’t have time for that kind of grunt work on top of his corporate responsibilities. And guarding a woman who already occupied too much of his head space was not something he’d let any of his staff do.
‘I know you don’t like security being assigned to you Ava,’ the King said. ‘But things have changed. You are now the Crown Princess and you need to be protected at all times. This situation highlights how important that is.’
‘Yes, but we have our own security detail.’
Her father sighed, as if he was settling in for a familiar battle. ‘I believe hiring an outsider is the best course of action until this situation is resolved. Wolfe comes highly recommended and is a personal friend of Gilles.’
‘I disagree.’
Determination vibrated through her voice and got Wolfe’s back up.
The skin on the back of his neck prickled and he resisted the urge to rub it; he was a master at not giving in to those physical signs that demonstrated when a man was under extreme stress. He had tried to convince himself that his sleepless nights with Ava on his mind were just because he had a niggle about her accident. he’d assumed that once that niggle had been investigated and the King was apprised of the danger surrounding his daughter he’d be able to re-establish his normal routine.
The driving need that had hit him in the gut as soon as Ava had stepped into the room made a mockery of that. It wasn’t ruminations over her accident that had kept him awake—and hard—for the past two weeks. It was her.
Absently Wolfe wondered if she had relived their night together as much as he had, and whether she’d be interested in taking up where they had left off.
What?
He silently mocked his wishful thinking. By the look of her she’d prefer to run him through with one of those swords lining the King’s private study.
Maybe he just needed to get laid.
And, no, not with her. If he took her on as a client—
‘Wolfe is clearly too busy, sir. But I’m sure there’s another person out there just as capable.’
She was right about him being too busy, Wolfe thought, but there really was no one else he would trust with her life.
Feeling that he no longer had a choice, he gave the King a curt nod of acceptance.
‘No!’
The King cut an irritated look at his daughter. ‘Ava, this is not open for discussion. My word is law, and it’s time you realised that you have a responsibility, a duty, to your country. You will do it.’
Did that mean she didn’t want to? Wolfe wouldn’t have been surprised. He understood the fickle nature of women better than most.
She stood beside the window with her arms crossed and the afternoon sun turning her hair a deep glossy brown. Wolfe could feel her frustration, her fury, in every tautly held muscle of her slender body.
His own body flushed with heat as he took her in, and he couldn’t help resenting the effect she had on him. He didn’t want to be this caught up by the sight of a woman. Ever.
‘I’ll need absolute control,’ he said, overlaying unwanted thoughts with the professionalism he prided himself on. ‘Access to everything.’ Wolfe addressed his words to the King. ‘Every nook and cranny and secret entrance and exit to the castle. Ava’s diary. Her itinerary. I’ll employ my own chef to do her meals, and I want the final word on everything she does and every person she sees.’
‘You’re asking a lot.’
Wolfe knew what the King was saying. This is my daughter and you’d better not stuff up. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Perhaps Monsieur Wolfe would like my firstborn, as well?’ Ava said, injecting her voice with bored insolence, tapping her foot agitatedly on the marble floor.
The King nodded his agreement before addressing his mutinous daughter. ‘I have organised a ball in your brother’s honour this coming weekend and you will need security for that.’
‘It’s too soon,’ Ava whispered softly.
Her arms enfolded her waist in a protective gesture her father didn’t seem to notice, but it tugged at some unwanted place inside Wolfe’s chest.
‘It’s not too soon. And the ball is not only to honour your brother’s life—it is to find you a husband.’
A husband?
Wolfe’s eyes locked on Ava’s face, which had suddenly turned ashen. His own gut felt as if it was twisted up with his intestines, and a flash of adrenaline rushed through his system as if he’d just been physically assaulted.
‘I can find my own husband, sir.’
‘Not now that you’re Crown Princess, you can’t,’ the King rasped. ‘The stakes have been raised, Ava, and you’ve had more than enough time to find a suitable partner and Anders badly needs a celebration and an heir.’
The tension in the room as Ava stared at her father could have cracked the Arctic shelf. Wolfe thought of the island paradise he had planned to visit next week, after his round of meetings. The warm sparkling blue waters of the North Atlantic. A new set of sun loungers that edged one end of his lap pool.
‘Do I even need to be in attendance, sir?’ Ava stared down her nose at her father with bored enquiry. ‘I’d hate to mess around with your plans.’
The King’s eyes hardened. ‘Don’t be smart, Ava. You have a duty to do. You know that.’
‘And is it my fault that I am entirely underprepared to carry out that duty?’ she retorted.
Her words were underscored by a subtle vulnerability that called to every one of Wolfe’s protective instincts and threatened his determination to remain detached from everything at all times. It was an aspect of his nature that had never been challenged before—regardless of what he had seen and experienced. It was the reason he had acquired his nickname.
Instead of following that troublesome thought down what could only be a dead-end street set with an ambush, he focused on what he could see and hear. The facts.
‘You chose to run around Paris for eight years.’ The King’s face had the motley hue of a man on the edge.
‘Because I didn’t have any choices here,’ Ava returned icily.
‘I won’t argue with you, Ava. You need a husband. Someone who understands the business and can support you when you need it.’
Wolfe noticed the King’s hand shook slightly as he picked up his water glass. ‘Wolfe, if you would accompany my daughter back to her quarters? I’m sure you’ll want to get started on the best way to carry out your duties as soon as possible.’
Wolfe wasn’t sure about anything right now except two things. His need for this woman was stronger than it had ever been, and taking on the role of her personal bodyguard was absolute insanity.
Ava rounded on him as soon as he’d followed her into her private sitting room. ‘“I’ll need absolute control. Access to everything.”’ She mimicked his voice, her tone scathing. ‘Are you kidding me?’
Wolfe couldn’t stop himself from running his eyes over her slender curves as she stopped in the middle of the room, her body vibrating with tension.
