Cash slept in fits and starts. He was accustomed to it because he did it on missions. Snatching sleep in twenty-minute increments, waking to check his surroundings, sleeping again. He shouldn’t have to do it on this trip, and yet here he was.

Protecting the princess.

He thought of the woman in the other room and his cock woke from its slumber.

Down, you fucking horndog.

He popped a hand behind his head and lay there, staring at the ceiling. She was a princess. Princess Antonella Maria Rossi. He could barely wrap his mind around it.

That slight, wispy, lovely girl was a princess—and a virgin.

And he was her knight in shining armor.

Cash rolled his eyes. Yeah, right.

Some knight. His fucking mother couldn’t even hang around to see him grow up, and his father was the most uninvolved son of a bitch that ever lived. Only his stepmother was interested in him—and not in a good way. From the minute she’d married his father when Cash was eleven, she’d actively worked to let him know he wasn’t important or necessary to their lives. And when she’d had a baby with his dad?

Yeah, he’d never had a chance after that. She’d shoved him as far away as possible, as if he’d somehow been competition for an infant. She’d pretended to care, but she hadn’t. Passive-aggressive didn’t even begin to describe that fucking woman. He’d worked for scraps of affection only to be kicked in the teeth again and again. By the time he was fourteen, he’d realized the truth and he’d stopped trying.

He’d effectively checked out at sixteen, not caring if he finished school or not. He’d only graduated because his track coach kept on top of him to do so. The second he was eighteen? Navy, baby. Best decision he’d ever made.

He turned over and punched the pillow. When next he woke, it was five a.m. Cash blinked into the predawn darkness. The house was quiet. After a few minutes, he flipped the covers back and went to make coffee. After that was done, he went outside to check the perimeter. There’d been no incursions, but he hadn’t expected any. If there had been, they wouldn’t have stopped at breaching the perimeter. They’d have blasted into the house and taken Ella—and they’d have probably killed him in the process.

Collateral damage.

He shook off the chill and went back inside. The house was warm and the smell of coffee was beginning to permeate the interior. He strode down the hall and toward the master bedroom. The door was closed and he put his ear to it. Listening.

There was no movement, no sound, so he turned and went back to the kitchen and the coffee. After he poured a cup, he headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later, he was in front of the television, watching the news. A glance at his phone revealed no calls or messages, so he turned his attention to the screen.

The news about Ella wasn’t foremost, but it was close. They’d tried to minimize the idea she’d been getting married. None of the photos showed her in a wedding gown or mentioned Sheikh Fahd. Instead, her family was worried about her and wanted her back safely and soon.

A man Cash presumed was her uncle stood at a podium and begged for her return while a hard-eyed woman stood in the background and frowned. Two young women were beside her, also frowning.

He didn’t buy it. Partly because of her story and partly because her uncle reminded him a lot of his stepmother. Saying all the right things but not meaning them.

Fuck.

It was a mess, and he’d stumbled into it. Did he regret it? He thought about it, but the answer was not really.

Ella was cute. Sweet. All the things he didn’t usually like in a woman. He liked them sexy and tough—even a bit jaded. Women who knew what they wanted in bed. Women who understood that sex was sex and nothing else.

Still, he liked Ella though she was none of those things. There was something about her. She was bold and vulnerable at the same time.

And so fucking lost. She reminded him of himself in a way. Well, himself a few years ago. She was young—twenty-two—and he was older and had learned that he had to seize his own happiness. Find his own way.

That’s why he’d joined the Navy. And when he’d tried out for the SEALs? Oh yeah, he finally had a place to channel all that anger and determination he carried. Not that being an angry bastard would get you far as a SEAL. No, it was more about making the anger carry him through the hell of BUD/S and then into the teams. It was about not giving in or giving up.

He’d thought getting into the SEALs was hard—and it was—but becoming HOT? That had been the most amazing fucking thing to ever happen in his life. He loved what he did, loved that he made a difference even if nobody really knew it.

He was on his second cup of coffee when there was movement in the hall. Her door opened and then she emerged. His belly twisted at the sight of her. So fucking sexy.

No, not sexy. NOT.

Cash hardened his heart as she approached. She was wearing his shirt again, but her legs were bare. Didn’t matter because the hem hung to her knees. She’d rolled the sleeves, and her hair was piled on top of her head. Long strands spilled from a messy topknot, framing her face.

Her skin was creamy and smooth, and her lips drew his attention because they were so pink. He thought for a second she’d found lipstick, but then he realized it was just her natural color. Why he hadn’t focused on that last night, he didn’t know.

“Morning,” she said as she shuffled over and sank onto the couch.

He muted the television, though he hadn’t had it loud in the first place.

“Sleep okay?”

She pushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. “Surprisingly.” She frowned. “I woke up thinking I was married. Took me a few seconds to remember I wasn’t.”

“Want some coffee?”

“I would love some.”

He pushed upright and she reached out to touch his arm. The lightning bolt sizzling through him stopped him in his tracks. She snatched her hand back as if burned. Her dark eyes were wide and innocent when he gazed down at her.

“I can get it,” she said.

“It’s okay. I need another cup anyway. You take cream or sugar?”

“Just black.”

He went over and poured coffee while she watched the news. When her face appeared on-screen, she didn’t move a muscle. He brought the coffee over and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the mug in two small hands. Elegant hands. The fingers were long and slender, the nails blunt and natural. He had a sudden vision of those fingers stroking his cock, and he shoved it away forcefully. But his balls ached anyway.

Her gaze didn’t leave the television until the segment about her was over. Then she turned to him. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“You say that, but I feel like it isn’t.”

“Trust me, it is.” He wouldn’t elaborate, but knocking out the security guard and evading a pursuer was child’s play compared to what he usually did.

His phone buzzed, effectively ending the conversation. It was Viking.

“Morning, sunshine,” Cash said.

Viking snorted. “Dude, I’ve been up all fucking night researching your problem. Don’t morning me.”

“What’d you learn?”

“Enough.”

There was the sound of a radio in the background. Maybe Taylor Swift, which would be fucking hilarious and something Cash would tease his SEAL team leader about for the rest of his life. Taylor had some kick-ass songs, but no SEAL would want to admit he sang about shaking off the haters, fakers, and takers in his bathroom mirror from time to time.

“What’s the ETA?”

“We’ll be there in twenty.”

Cash’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. Yeah, this was the shortest fucking fishing trip in the known universe. “We’ll be ready.”

The call punched out. Ella stared at him with wide eyes.

“Ready for what?” she asked.

“To leave. Need you to get your cute ass ready to go, Princess. Shower if you want, but we’ll be leaving here within the hour.”

She clutched her coffee cup. Her pulse throbbed in her throat. “Where are we going?”

“Not sure,” he told her. “But we need to be ready.”

---

There wasn’t much she could do, but Ella went into the master bath and found a comb in the drawer. She combed her hair to make it presentable, then used the tie she’d found and put it up into a twist on her head. This twist was neater than the one she’d done to have coffee.

She pinched her cheeks for color, slipped into the sweatpants Cash had given her—tying the strings as tight as they’d go so the pants didn’t fall down—and knotted the hem of his shirt at her waist. She had socks, but no shoes. There was no remedy for that. Cash didn’t carry anything in her size. The socks swam on her, truth be told, but they were warm and she was grateful.

She cast a look at the wedding gown she’d laid over the tub to dry. Poor thing—it was stiff and discolored from the weather and the splatters of mud she’d gotten on it. She went over and shook it out as best she could. She was torn on whether to leave it or take it, but in the end she decided to leave it where it was. It was simply too big to drag with her—especially when she didn’t know where they were going.

Ella heard voices. For a moment, her heart leaped into her throat. But she strained to hear what they were saying and realized that no one sounded scared or angry. Cash’s people had arrived.

She hesitated for a long moment before she drew herself up and went to join them. It took everything she had, but she channeled her aunt and glided into the room as if she owned it. Besides Cash, there were two big men. They all turned to her at once, and she felt like the smallest of bugs in comparison.

“Your Highness,” one of the men said, and Cash started. She watched the look of shock cross his face and wished she could wipe it away. Yes, he knew she was a princess—but he hadn’t quite processed it yet. Hearing her referred to so formally clearly jolted him in a way the news programs had not.

“Please call me Ella,” she replied. “I prefer it.”

“Ella, then. I’m Viking,” the big blond man said, coming over and shaking her hand. “This is Cage.” She must have looked confused because he grinned. “Call signs. It’ll be easier for you since that’s what we’ll call each other. Though you likely know this guy as Cash.”

“Yes,” she replied, looking in the direction he’d tipped his head. “What do you call him if not Cash?”

Viking’s grin didn’t fade. “Money.”

“Money,” she said, trying it on. She shook her head. “I like Cash better.”

“So what’s the plan?” Cash asked, folding his arms over his broad chest and not making eye contact with her.

Why did that make her feel the tiniest bit frantic?

Viking turned his attention to Cash. “Need to leave your car for the time being. We’ll come back for it in a few days.”

Cash didn’t look happy. “All right. Where are we going?”

“Dulles. Had to call Hawk in on this one.”

“Not a bad idea,” Cash said.

Ella had no idea what they were talking about. She wanted to tell them she was right here and not to talk over her, but they were both so big and tough-looking that she didn’t quite have the courage. Not that they would hurt her. Still, they looked scary—and that was usually enough to silence her. Speaking out was impossible where she’d come from.

“You might not agree when you hear the plan.”

The other man snickered. Or she thought he did. Ella studied him and… Yes, he was hiding a smile. Cash knew it too. He glared.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

Viking cracked a grin as well. He spread his hands as the grin turned into a laugh. “Sorry, dude, really. But the plan—and no disrespect, Ella, I promise you,” he said to her in an aside, “is that you’re getting married.”