Ares Drakos really resented having to make a last-minute dash across the globe from Manhattan to Greece. The island of Crete, specifically. He also resented, but with less force, the fact that he’d had to cancel a date with his current lover. Although if he was being totally honest with himself, he had planned on it being the last time he’d see her. She hadn’t turned out to be all that interesting, in or out of bed, and he found his capacity to indulge in the games of modern dating becoming less and less appealing.
There were very few people who could call in a favour like this, because he was very selective in who he chose to protect, but Caius Mansur de Roche, recently disgraced abdicated king, was one of them. Thanks to an alcohol-infused bonding session they’d had way back in some bar in…New Orleans? Or maybe it had been Costa Rica.
Ares had been there on a job, Caius had been there raising hell. Ares—who usually loathed the rich and entitled, and royalty were the worst of that lot—had found himself actually liking the crown prince. So much so that, when he’d realised there was a paparazzo lurking, he’d tipped the crown prince off and he’d managed not to land himself on the front pages yet again.
They’d somehow always endeavoured to meet up if they were in the same place at the same time. But when Caius had abdicated and asked Ares to take over his sister’s—the new crown princess’s—security, Ares had refused, point-blank. He didn’t do cosseted royals. He’d had a short, sharp experience with European royalty and they needed babysitters, not security. He’d vowed never again. He didn’t need the money or the headache.
He used to work as a one-man security operation, highly sought after because of his legendary skills, but he now ran an exclusive security company with a very select band of employees that he trusted implicitly. They had become the go-to security agency in a very short space of time, not just because of their discretion and skill but because Ares had also invested in new cutting-edge decryption software, making him millions overnight but also giving him and his company an edge over everyone else. An edge he did not take advantage of, which had only garnered him even more respect.
But then Caius had contacted him again the day before and told him that his sister, Crown Princess Cassandra, had taken an unscheduled holiday break, leaving Sadat Sur Mer, the small island monarchy for Greece.
By the time she’d made it to the other side of security at the private airport in Athens, she’d somehow given her bodyguards the slip.
Ares had said, ‘She’s due to be crowned queen soon, right? So she’s probably just making the most of her time clubbing and shopping and lounging about on yachts. I know I would.’
His friend had sounded uncharacteristically tense. ‘No, Ares, she’s not like that. She’s quiet. She doesn’t go clubbing. So, even if she is on some kind of a mission to have an…experience, she’s not street smart, not like us. She’s innocent, and I can’t be certain about this but I do mean literally.’
Ares had made a face. ‘That is too much information, my friend, even for you.’
But his friend had pleaded, ‘Look, Ares, you know I don’t scare easily. But she’s only sending me texts to let me know she’s OK, no more details. No information about where she is. She’s out there on her own, without any protection. Our security team has let her down. Left her vulnerable. She’s my baby sister. Even though it’s not my fault, it is down to me that she’s now the crown princess. I need to know she’s OK and I know your team will locate her within hours if you put them on it. You know money isn’t an issue.’
Ares’s insides had clenched at that. He’d once had baby sisters and he could remember the way it had been totally instinctive to want to protect them. Until his family had left him for dead. He’d walked away from them as soon as he could and neither they nor his older brother had come looking for him, showing him that they hadn’t ever needed him. The distance between them now seemed more vast than ever.
He’d felt himself weakening and said gruffly, ‘And you know money shouldn’t be discussed among friends.’
He’d taken a breath and then, ‘Look, I have some meetings in Europe I’ve been putting off scheduling. I’ll do it.’ He’d felt the strangest sensation as he’d committed to that, as if he’d just committed to something momentous.
Caius had sighed volubly with relief. ‘Thanks, man, I really owe you.’
Except now Ares was bitterly regretting that his friend had somehow managed to worm his way into Ares’s very smallest soft spot to butter him up. Because from where he was sitting, at an incredibly tacky Cretan bar with the absolute worst affront to music pounding so loud around him that he could feel it in his bones, Crown Princess Cassandra Mansur de Roche, with a heap of middle names he couldn’t care less about, was having the time of her life and looked to be in no need of rescuing or protecting at all.
He knew it was her even though her naturally blonde hair had streaks of pink, red and purple running through the long wavy locks. And even though her eyes were heavily made up and there were tiny diamanté stickers artfully placed across her cheeks. And…he couldn’t be sure but from where he was sitting her eyes looked darker so maybe she was using coloured contacts, because one of her most distinctive physical traits was her incredibly blue eyes.
It irritated Ares that he could recall her picture in his mind with absolute precision. That honey-blonde hair, kissed by the sun. Wide, almond-shaped blue eyes under dark arching brows. Not too thin, not too thick. Just perfect. Like her nose, with the slightest patrician bump.
A perfectly oval-shaped face with high cheekbones. Delicate jaw, but defined. But it was her mouth that had sent little sparks of heat into his veins. Plump and full. Generous. Wide. Far too sensual a mouth for a woman who had to appear at all times to be mindful and demure.
Ares had taken one look at that mouth and had scoffed at her brother’s quaint notion that she might still be an innocent. No way no how. Not with a mouth that sent all sorts of dark desires into a man’s head. Or just yours, maybe?
He scowled at that and took another slug of beer, hoping that might douse the very unwelcome buzz of awareness in his body. He was only human and she was a beautiful woman, but blonde princesses with electric-blue eyes who looked as though they’d just stepped off a Disney movie set were not his type. The awareness was an aberration.
He assured himself again that she was not in need of specialist protection. She was dancing with total abandon in the middle of the dance floor, arms in the air, inviting the eye to move over her perfect, lissome body. Long legs encased in snug denim that cupped her perfectly shaped bottom, which Ares could see all too well as she turned away from him.
Her graceful back was bare, as she was wearing a sparkly butterfly-shaped top that seemed to be held together by two mere strings, at her neck and mid-back. Her waist was slim and her hips…surprisingly womanly. Sending another flash of heat into Ares’s blood.
Dammit. He was not going to sit here and ogle a spoiled entitled princess, crown or otherwise, who clearly needed no help. He fished for his phone in the pocket of his jeans, fully intending to take a photo of Caius’s precious baby sister in action to send to him before letting him know her location so her own useless bodyguard/babysitters could take over again. And then he could get on with protecting people who really needed to be protected, but just as he lifted the phone up, he saw something and cursed volubly. He couldn’t leave her now.
