Max and the Prince

Copyright ©2015
RJ Scott

First Edition

Cover design by
Meredith Russell

Edited by Erika
Orrick

Published by Love
Lane Books Limited

ISBN 978-1-78564-004-9

All Rights Reserved

This literary
work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without
express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or
otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file
sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and
in violation of Copyright Law.

All characters
and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons
living or dead is strictly coincidental.

All trademarks
are the property of their respective owners.

Dedication

To the usual
suspects.

A special thank
you to fellow authors, and good friends to have in a time of crisis, Sue Brown,
Elin Gregory, Chris Quinton and Jay Northcote. They know why.

And always for my
family.

“This is the most important case you’ve ever had!” The
shouted words boomed into the outer office, and Max frowned at the anger and
vehemence in them. Seemed the new client was giving Kyle Monroe, owner of
Bodyguards Inc., one hell of a time.

Ross Jackson glanced at his watch. “I think you’d better go in,”
he said, punctuating the words with a tap of his pen to his desk.

“Will Kyle want me in there yet?” Max tried to ignore his concern
about this whole mess. He wasn’t the kind of person to unnecessarily stress
about situations. No, Maxwell Connery was a get-things-done kind of guy and had
absolute focus. But this bodyguard to a
prince
gig was worrying him. He
didn’t know if the actual prince was beyond the door to Kyle’s office, since the
raised voices belonged to Kyle and only one other. The curse words from the
other man didn’t bode well, but neither did they sound like any kind of prince Max
had ever visualized. Max had arrived a few minutes after the potential clients
and now sat with Ross in the outer office while initial discussion was
undertaken, which was par for the course, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard
every word from the angry man inside.

And now it was Max’s turn for his part in this beauty
parade. He was up on a close protection job for a prince. A real, honest-to-God
royal from some country in mainland Europe. He tried to get information out of
the normally verbose Ross, but he was being uncharacteristically quiet this
morning. Max couldn’t believe that Ross didn’t know
something
about what
was going on in there. After all, the PA to the owner of Bodyguards Inc. knew
everything and could always be relied on to pass along something that would
give Max the edge during the interview.

“Before I go in, you seriously know nothing about the
client?”

“Nothing,” Ross said. “Big scary dude who’s with our client
isn’t happy, though.” He inclined his head to the closed door that was doing little
to muffle the shouting.

“Is it the prince who’s doing all that shouting?” No doubt
Prince Whatever was a spoilt, entitled, upper-class twat who coasted through
life with no worries.

Ross peered at the screen in front of him. “Nope,
that
is Teddy. He’s built like…” Ross waved his hands around. “He’s the royal
bodyguard. And that’s all it says. Just Teddy. Looks like he wants to kill
everyone.”

Teddy sounded like a weird name for the guy Ross described
and the owner of the cursing, shouting voice in Kyle’s office. ‘Teddy’ brought
up images of a
cute
guy with an
adorable
button nose on his
endearing
little face. But as Max pushed himself up to focus on the job at hand, he knew
he was the last one to talk about appearances. He was twenty-eight, but he was still
carded all the time.

“At least
my
name is kinda cool,” he muttered, more
to himself than Ross.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.”

Drawing back his shoulders, Max knocked on the door and
waited for the “enter.” There was no shouting now, just a horrible cold
silence. Max quickly assessed the situation in the office. He recognized Teddy
the giant—broad, six eight at least, short to the scalp hair, a scar on his
forehead, black suit stretched over his muscled frame, earpiece dangling on his
neck, and a scowl carved into his expression.

Which meant the other one was the prince. Right? Didn’t look
much like a prince, though. The man was slouched in the chair with familiar
white leads from earbuds plugged into an iPhone. Max couldn’t see the prince’s face,
hidden as it was by the hood on a bright sapphire Cardiff University
sweatshirt. Baggy jeans and scuffed Converse completed the look of
couldn’t-care-less rebel. Max could hear the music the prince was playing from where
he was. Not the bones of it to recognize an artist, but the high tinny beat of
the music that flowed in time with the tap of the guy’s left foot.

“Maxwell Connery, Theodore Estevan.” Kyle indicated the giant.
Max held out his hand to shake and was treated to a quick once-over from Teddy,
or Theodore, as he was being introduced. “And this is Prince—”

“This is your man?” Teddy interrupted with something akin to
horror. He stood up so violently he caused his chair to skitter back and hit
the wall. “This child?” Teddy’s voice held an inflection—something
Mediterranean, maybe?—though it was mostly lost in the sheer dismay in the
tone.

Max didn’t drop his hand, and whether Teddy couldn’t think
of another reason not to shake it or he was just being polite, Teddy grasped Max’s
hand with a quick squeeze that was probably supposed to underline Teddy’s
intimidating size and strength. Teddy was strong, that was undeniable, but Max
didn’t flinch.

“Mr. Estevan,” Max acknowledged.

Max waited for an introduction to the elusive guy under the
hood. Instead Teddy grabbed his chair and sat back down. There was evidently no
rush to include the prince in any of this, not that he seemed at all bothered.
Apart from the tapping of his foot and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest,
he didn’t move an inch.

“Max is one of my best operatives,” Kyle said, his tone the
same one he used when he was calming Ross down after a missing stapler incident,
low and encouraging. Like if he said something in just the right way, the
situation would be diffused.

Teddy sneered at Max. “You told me this Max was a pilot, ex–Air
Force. I don’t see that in this kid.”

“I
am
former RAF,” Max said. “Ten years, including
two tours overseas.” Max refused to be insulted by the open contempt and
disbelief on Teddy’s face. If it wasn’t for one crashed plane and a faulty
ejection seat, he’d still be flying, and he was proud of what he’d achieved in
his time in the service. People could judge him harshly on his age, but not on
his accomplishments.

Teddy huffed dramatically with an angry shake of his head.

“You can’t think I am handing Prince Lucien over to the care
of someone as… little… as this man. What happens when someone attacks? Is he
going to blow them over with a kiss?”

Max refrained from making a retort. He wanted to, but that
wouldn’t be professional. No, he had to let Kyle lead this. But hell if he
would forget that kiss comment. He’d find Teddy and knock all six eight of him
on the floor, then stand and laugh. There was no adage more appropriate than “The
bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Max might only be five nine, but he
knew all the moves to bring tree-size men to their knees.

“I’d suggest you show my operative some respect,” Kyle
began. Max cast his boss a quick glance. That kind of language didn’t get sales.
Kyle’s words could provoke, and provoke they did.

Teddy stood up again, and Max winced as the chair smacked
the wall hard enough to leave scuff marks.

“I will not be spoken to like that. Prince Lucien, we’re
leaving,” Teddy announced theatrically with a wave of his hand and the press of
fingers to hood-guy’s shoulder.

 The hidden man moved away from the hand, and with an
exaggerated sigh, he pushed back his hood and pulled out his earbuds. He stood
up, but Max couldn’t get a good look at him because Teddy was in the way.

“You need to go outside, Teddy.” The guy’s voice was
slightly accented but English enough that it was difficult to ascertain the country
of origin, similar to Teddy’s. Prince Lucien sounded tired.

Teddy stood firm. “I’m not—”

“Teddy, I’ll handle this.”

“I don’t trust him, sir,” Teddy insisted.

“I know you’re only thinking of me, but please, Teddy, give
me five.”

Teddy didn’t respond, but there was a visible tightening of
his shoulders and he spun, deceptively graceful for such a big guy, to face
Max. There was one final stern glare that dripped with so much warning Max
nearly took a step back, then Teddy moved away and left the room.

For the first time, Max got a good look at the man who had
been hidden under the hood. Dark hair, tousled and messy in that just-out-of-bed
look, with bangs that dropped to his eyebrows. With the hair was the darkest of
eyes, a rich chocolate brown. The man had cheekbones to die for and a wry smile
on his face. He didn’t look like any kind of prince that Max had seen before,
certainly not all spit-polished and serious like he’d expected.

Max couldn’t help himself, he smiled back and extended his
hand. “Max Connery.”

“And I’m Lucien Magrello. Could I possibly have the room for
a few minutes?” He addressed the second to Kyle, who looked at both him and Max
with concern on his face.

Finally, Kyle scooted up from his chair and left the room,
briefly squeezing Max’s shoulder as he went past.

“Please, Max, have a seat,” Lucien said.

“I prefer to stand, sir.”

“Call me Lucien. Please.” He didn’t make a move to sit
himself; instead, he looked at Max with a considering expression on his face.
“Do you swim?”

Max blinked at the question.
Swim?
Why was that
important? “I swim,” he said. He tried not to let the uncertainty in his head
filter into his voice. He’d been on several jobs with BI before, but he’d never
been asked whether he could swim.

“How well?” Lucien tilted his head as he spoke, his dark
eyes narrowing as he assessed Max. “I mean, you’re not tall, so your length
would be less than…” He stopped talking, a sudden flush of color on his cheeks.

“I swim well enough,” Max answered.

“Well enough to be on a swim team?” Lucien was so earnest
and so
young
. Max knew Lucien was twenty-five which made him only three
years younger than Max. But the way he was talking now made, all eager and
excited, made Max felt terribly old. A swim team? That would involve swimming
fast and yes, he could swim, but he wasn’t the fastest or the best swimmer out
there.

A full sentence didn’t immediately come to mind. “Uhm…”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Actually, you don’t have to answer
that. I mean, it’s the perfect way to keep close to me if you practice with the
swim team. But your boss had the idea of you pretending to be my boyfriend so
you can come watch me practice even if you don’t swim.”

“If it becomes necessary then that is certainly an option,”
Max said.

“Because I won’t give up my swimming, okay? Whatever you
say, however many times you lock me in a room, I will always find a way to get
out and swim.”

Max nodded like he understood every word that had just been
said to him. He was a good swimmer, strong enough to keep up with the other cadets
at Cranwell, but Lucien was right. Max was short, which was a handicap against
long, lanky Lucien.

“I’m sorry, I just insulted you,” Lucien interrupted Max’s thought
process. “I can assure you I am normally better mannered; it’s just I’m not in
a good frame of mind. If that is any excuse.”

“You didn’t—”

“I mean, you’re short, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you
can’t do your job, yes?” Lucien clapped his hand over his mouth. “I did it
again.” The flush of embarrassment seemed to intensify, and Lucien added a
frown for good measure.

“I’m five nine, which is actually about average, and yes, I
can do my job.” That was the best Max could come up with at the moment. He’d
always found honesty was the best policy.

“And about Mr. Monroe’s idea for you to pretend to be my
boyfriend?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Max said.

Max swore he saw a flash of disappointment in Lucien’s eyes at
his noncommittal answer, but it was so quick he couldn’t pin it down. He’d
think on what it meant later.

“And, Mr. Connery, you will stop… everything?”

That Max couldn’t promise, not until he knew all the facts.
“Why don’t we go over why you need a bodyguard—besides the obvious, of course—and
then I’ll tell you what I can do.” He sat down in the chair the prince had
suggested and indicated that Lucien should take the chair opposite.

“What do you need to know?”

“Tell me everything.”

Lucien glanced at the door, uncertainty on his face.
“Shouldn’t the others be in here?”

Max shrugged. “Do they know more than you?”

Bitterness and sharp-eyed focus replaced the uncertainty and
blushing. “Hell, no.”

Max sat back in the chair and forced himself to relax. “Tell
me, then.”

“Where from?” Lucien did the opposite to Max and leaned
forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and foot tapping to an unheard rhythm.

“The beginning.”

“Okay.”

Prince Lucien stopped for a moment, and his eyes lost that
sharp focus. He was lost in memories and Max knew better to interrupt the flow.
He just hoped that Kyle could keep Teddy outside for long enough that he could
get a feel for whether he was a good fit on this case.

“I apologize for the way this story starts, because it’s a
long time ago. And it isn’t excuses, but reasons. Is that okay?”

“Go on.”

“When I was five, my youngest brother was born. He was a
beautiful baby, and I remember holding him when they brought him home.” A soft
smile tilted his lips. This was clearly a very happy memory. “And I don’t mean
for the official photos, I mean just holding him to hold him. He was so tiny,
and I thought, ‘He’s the person I want to be good for.’ Right there and then I
felt so empowered as a big brother I decided I would keep my room clean, not
shout at my mum, the whole list of things kids do to test the limits. As far as
I was concerned, Sebastian, or Seb as we all called him, would be my
responsibility. My other siblings were older than me and away at school, and it
would just be me and Seb for the longest time.” Lucien stopped for a moment and
Max sensed this story was going somewhere very painful for Lucien.

Lucien sighed. “We were close, but he became ill, leukemia. He
died when he was twelve.”

When Max had suggested Lucien start from the beginning, he
hadn’t imagined it would go this far back and compassion welled inside him.
Lucien had clearly adored his brother.