“Brooklyn?”
“In here.”
I walked to her bedroom. We shared a comfortable two-bedroom apartment. It was one of the perks of the city. Freychon wasn’t as expensive as other European hubs.
“Hey.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. I was getting worried.”
“I’m sorry.” I sat on the edge of her bed. “No phone, remember? I couldn’t call you.”
“But I was back by nine. Where have you been? I thought something happened.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to scare her. And I didn’t know what I could or should say without revealing more than I was allowed. It was strange how yesterday, I felt like Brooklyn and I were the ones who shared the secret—we shared the bond of going through the Titan experience, but that had shifted overnight. I had some sort of weird allegiance to Damon. He was the one I felt I shared the experience with. I didn’t want to share it with her. I didn’t know if that was selfish or naïve, but it seemed like something I needed to keep private.
“I-I was looking at a special collection.”
“You worked? After last night?” Her eyes bulged.
Lying didn’t feel like the right thing. My stomach twisted, but I continued to protect the truth.
“It was a rare collection,” I explained. “I thought this might be my only chance to see it.”
She sighed. “Only you would do something like that.” She eyed me suspiciously. “What outfit is that?”
I bit my lip. “Oh, it’s something D—I mean, he gave it to me.”
“Really? You look so elegant. Sexy and proper at the same time.” She winked.
I wondered if that’s what Damon had thought. I blushed, remembering our walk to the royal library. I wondered if he had discovered by now I had left. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed. He had world leaders to entertain. The house manager had made that clear.
“How was your night?” I asked.
She sighed, throwing herself back on her pillows. “Amazing.”
“That good?”
She nodded. “It was more than amazing. I wish I could relive it. Or that I had a picture. Something to remember it. Anything.”
I saw the way she looked at my clothes. I hadn’t thought of them as a souvenir, but in her eyes, they were. Proof that I had spent the night at the palace.
“I’m sorry. But you had a good time? That’s what counts, right? You checked it off your Galona bucket list.”
I wished I had something to give her. A coin from The Titan. A cocktail napkin. Something that said we had been there.
“I did. More than once.” She giggled. The curiosity was killing me. I wanted to know who it was, but unless she volunteered I couldn’t ask. I also realized that would open me up to more sharing, and I didn’t want to trade stories. “Now that you’re home safely, I think I’m going to take a nap. I’m kind of exhausted.” She smiled sweetly.
I paused in her doorway. “Brooklyn?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for talking me into it.” I closed the door behind me and left her to her nap.
13
Damon
It was dark. My tie draped around my neck. We had been at it for hours.
I motioned for the server to walk over.
“Your majesty?”
“Please bring dinner. Whatever the chef recommends,” I instructed.
“Yes, sir.” He bowed and disappeared through one of the service doors that led to a tunnel system. It wound throughout the palace, connecting rooms where no one would have imagined a link.
“Paul.” I exhaled. “We are down to three points. Let’s have a drink while we wait for dinner to arrive. We can cut one of these things during that time.”
My patience had run out. I was fucking tired of his stalling. I removed my cufflinks, shoved them in my pocket, and rolled my sleeves to my forearms. My muscles strained against the starched shirt.
I rose and walked to the standing bar, waving off one of the servants.
“Bourbon?” I offered, holding up my favorite decanter.
Paul leaned in his chair. “I remember you were a bourbon man. I seemed to remember it’s American bourbons you prefer?”
“Yes.” I lifted the crystal lid. “I consider them steeped in something a little darker than our Scottish friends can provide.”
Maybe a few drinks would loosen his hold on the trade negotiations. He refused wine at lunch. Ignored cocktail hour. Now we were into dinner. Something had to give.
I placed it in front of the prime minister.
His mustache lifted when he smiled. “This is a good bourbon.”
I held the growl in. Of course it was. I didn’t serve cheap piss, and I never drank it. These were the moments when it was hard to be diplomatic. The bastard wanted to be courted and seduced. His chain of islands was dependent on my ports. The problem was, Galona was just as dependent on the revenue from the island cargo.