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need to protect her identity—especially considering the issues facing her family back in Zimrada. Instead of grabbing her by the hand and hauling her to a secluded corner where he could find out what was going on, what was happening between them, and if she still thought about that kiss as much as he did, he dipped his chin and stepped back in place.

Remember your place.

How many times had he told his hired men that phrase? He’d drilled it into them. Stay neutral. Stay alert. Don’t let your emotions get in the way. Calculate.

He crossed his hands in front of him and stepped back towards the wall.

Neese—no, Princess Nyssa moved to greet the prince. Her date. The word sat like a cold stone on his heart.

Behind her was the guy who had trailed them yesterday afternoon. Not the one he’d fought with in the street like a thug, but the other guy who had stared out the window at the bakery. He’d also been at the bowling alley. Suddenly, the interrupting phone call from the queen made a lot of sense. This guy was watching her and he’d called the queen when they got too close.

The cold stone sank his heart.

The princess wasn’t supposed to be with him.

The guard jerked his chin towards Tatum, but they didn’t speak. A movie clip from Tatum’s childhood played through his mind. It was from The Princess Bride, when the giant pounds on Miracle Max’s door and Miracle Max tells him to go away or he will call the Brute Squad. The giant says, “I’m on the Brute Squad.” And Miracle Max says, “You are the Brute Squad.”

This guy was the Brute Squad.

Tatum should take comfort that such an imposing figure stood between the princess and harm, but for some reason, he didn’t like the guy. Probably because he was the reason Neese had asked to leave after their kiss. Still, ever since he first laid eyes on the brute, Tatum had a strange itch between his shoulder blades.

The brute took position on the opposite wall and stared at nothing. Tatum did the same, ignoring the other guard and trying to focus on why he was here in the first place.

A princess. Had he known …

His thoughts came to a screeching halt. Had he known she was the princess, he would have done everything the same. He wouldn’t change one moment with Neese.

Okay, he would not have taken visiting royalty from the ballroom without security. And he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to think there was more to their time together than a fling. She couldn’t have been serious about the two of them. Heck, she practically dismissed him for the rest of her visit and yet she clearly had time to spend with a prince. So, he would have done several things differently. But he wouldn’t change how he felt about her, the bowling, the sweets, or the kisses. Those were the important moments.

Now that he knew who she really was, he couldn’t possibly follow her to Zimrada. How could he ever live with her so close, watching over her every move, and not have her?

The prince appeared to truly be interested in Nyssa. He was attentive as he pulled out her chair, his hand lingering on her bare shoulder just long enough to give an insight into his intentions. Tatum wanted to throw up.

The two royals moved as people who were familiar enough to be at ease but formal enough not to let their guards down. He could almost believe they were at a state dinner, except the prince had specifically called the dinner a date.

He couldn’t believe he didn’t know she was the princess. Her standing was written all over her straight back, her long, thin neck that bore the crown so easily, and in her inherent grace. He was such a fool.

Fool me once …

Nyssa had broken eye contact with Tatum out of desperation and moved quickly to her seat. Her knees quaked and barely held her up as she crossed the room. Marius must have sensed her discomfort, because he placed his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. She smiled a thank-you, her lips straining to move as they should.

Tatum was obviously in security, with his dark suit and white shirt. Not to mention the way he stood against the wall, like the statue she’d pictured Kingston becoming. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes had flashed with a cold streak of silver as cold as a stone. She’d lost her anonymity, which she had prized because of the freedom it gave her to care for Tatum. With it gone, she was just the princess—a visiting royal, the princess who had failed her people.

She contemplated Marius as he made his way to his seat. He’d hired Tatum. Had they been working together all along? Had Tatum known all along that she wasn’t what she claimed?

He couldn’t have known when he handed her his coat.

When they snuck out of that ball—had he known then?

What about when he kissed her?

She dug her nails into her palms in an effort to slow her mind down enough that she could catch her breath.

When she’d met up with him at the café, he’d asked where the princess was, so he couldn’t have known then, either. She grabbed on to that thought and held it close, wanting to believe that what they’d shared was real and untainted.

Yet even as she clutched the thought close, it turned as prickly as a rose’s stem.

Tatum hadn’t known who she was until she walked in wearing a stupid tiara with Kingston trailing behind.

His kisses had been real.

But the surprise and the betrayal in his eyes were real too.

She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Quite the opposite. She didn’t tell him the truth because she liked him, because she wanted to be with him. She could never say that to him with Marius sitting across from her—the situation was as awkward as jellyfish sandwiches. Nevertheless, the

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