25
Damon
The crew let us dine alone. I assured them we could pour our own champagne. I didn’t need them hovering. For once I wanted to forget the servitude that surrounded me.
Molly looked beautiful in the candlelight, but I realized she looked beautiful anywhere, under any circumstance. I needed her kind of purity. It steadied me when I thought I would crash.
“Now that everyone is gone, can you please tell me what happened between the time we arrived at the hotel and when we met for our date?” She took a bite of salad.
I wasn’t used to sharing, for many reasons. As king I didn’t have to express feelings or thoughts. I didn’t govern in a partnership with my siblings. I issued orders. It was my country.
And now there was an angelic woman who had pure intent behind her questions. It was hard to ignore her naiveté. However, what happened today involved her. I made a decision to include her.
“I’m pleased Ayla is so good at her job. She kept you away from phones and TV.”
Molly placed her fork on the side of her plate. “Why? What did I miss?”
“You are Galona’s new mystery woman.”
“What?”
“The trip in the grove. When you fell? There are pictures taking over every headline. It’s plastered everywhere.”
“Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” She shook her head. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“No, it was a simple accident. But it has catapulted us somewhere I didn’t expect.”
She reached for her champagne. “I don’t understand. It just happened a few hours ago. It was a trip. Shit.”
I smiled. I loved it when her pretty lips uttered dirty words. “The picture looks like I rescued you from falling to your death. I’ve been painted as a fucking romantic, and you’re the American damsel.”
“Ok. That I don’t like.” She cracked a smile. “Except the romantic part. You did plan a private dinner on a gorgeous yacht off the coast of Sangreaux. That kind of defines romantic.”
I scowled. What I had planned for her privately wasn’t for public consumption.
“I called Kenley and Sutcliffe. Kenley is working on a way to re-focus the press’s attention on the olive grove funding. Sutcliffe is working on a way to move you into the palace.”
She blinked. Her sapphire eyes alive under the candlelight. “Move into the palace? You can’t be serious.”
I nodded. “Oh, I’m serious, Molly. He will find a way to make it work with royal protocol.”
“Royal protocol? I’m not interested in protocol. I have a place. I have a roommate. We live downtown.”
“Neither of which can keep you safe against the press. It’s necessary for your safety.”
She scrunched her nose together. It would have been adorable had she not been so pissed at me. “You can’t just move me into the palace.”
I sighed. I had forgotten this part. “Right. How about like this? Molly, will you please move into the palace so I can protect you from paparazzi and rabid citizens who may believe you are a threat to national security?”
She threw her napkin in her lap. “No.” She pushed back from the table.
“I asked. That was what you wanted, isn’t it?” I dropped my fork and walked over to her.
She spun to face me. “Asking is not supposed to be an afterthought, Damon. If you don’t see that, then I don’t see how I can keep doing this.”
“I don’t have time to consider what everyone wants. That’s not a luxury I have. I have many others, but not time.” I pressed my gaze into hers. “I need you to be safe.”
That was all that mattered. Her safety. Her wellbeing. How else could I guarantee any kind of normalcy for her in Freychon if she didn’t have security? She wasn’t thinking clearly.
Her eyes fell to the floor. “This has all been amazing. Beautiful really. But I can’t be with a man who thinks I’m a treat. A trinket to carry around in his pocket.” Her blue eyes lifted and I saw the mist along her lashes. “You can tell Sutcliffe he doesn’t have to worry about damage control.”
She gathered her train and started for the door. I grabbed her arm, spinning her to my chest.
“No, Molly.”
Her eyes landed on mine. “You were right that first night. It was a fantasy.”
My ribs crushed against my lungs, squeezing the air into tight and uncomfortable places.
I didn’t want to let her go. I had no intention of letting her through that door, but I had never begged. Fuck. What was this woman doing to me?