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.

We were at a fucking impasse.

“Paul, our taxes are lower than anything the French or Spanish will give you. You know that.”

He nodded, drinking my bourbon. “Portugal has made an offer,” he stated.

“What? Since when have they been a player in this?” I felt the anger breaking through my calm exterior. I was ready to crush the glass in my hand. He had been fucking with me all day.

“I can’t ignore an opportunity.”

“We have had a long-standing agreement. And our trade goes well beyond financial gains. We are allies in many ways.”

He raised his eyebrows. “We are. We have history.”

“I also expect that to mean we have a future. You don’t have that with Portugal.”

“They are extending pearl activity.”

I scoffed. “Pearls? That’s what this is about? You want access to our oyster reefs.”

He nodded. “You know the situation in the islands. They’ve been over-harvested. It’s going to take decades to reclaim the oyster beds. We have dedicated funds going to science, but I don’t know that we have that kind of time. We’re known for our pearls.”

I scratched the back of my head. It was a slippery slope. Allowing the Islands into our waters would require heavy regulation. I’d need to speak to our own environmental team. Consult our conservationists. I wouldn’t destroy Galona just to keep a shipping contract.

Just then the service entry opened and a waiter appeared with a cart of food. He rolled toward us, presenting the trays.

Our discussion paused while the food was laid out in front of us, along with a bottle of Spanish wine. I knew the chef had paired it with the meal.

Paul grinned. “Please, let’s eat.”

Fuck. I was never getting out of here.

* * *

The lights in the first floor rooms were dim by the time the prime minister left for his hotel. The ballroom doors were locked. The library was dark. I walked to the residence elevator.

There was a quick salute from security before I entered the carriage.

I turned on the light as soon as I arrived in the residence. I didn’t expect it to be quiet. I didn’t expect it to be empty.

I expected to see Molly. I checked the balcony before combing my suite.

I reached for the royal line.

“Sutcliffe,” I snapped.

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Where is Miss Washington?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Miss Washington?”

I exhaled. “My guest, Sutcliffe. Where is she?”

“Oh. The young woman wandering around the palace.”

I clenched my fist. “Where is she?”

“Sir, we had no instructions. Security followed royal protocol.”

I gritted my teeth. “What does that mean exactly?”

“She left, your majesty.”

The irritation made the vein in my temple throb. “Why didn’t you ask my input?”

“Sir, it seemed as if the meeting with the prime minister was in a delicate state. And again, we had no instructions. I couldn’t be certain she was your guest.”

I sat on the edge of my desk. I hadn’t left instructions. I had expected the security to let her back into the residence. I expected common sense. They saw her leave with me this morning. But they were like statues. They rarely looked around them. I wondered just how safe I was with people who didn’t observe their surroundings.

Damn it. I closed my eyes. Where in the hell was she?

“How did she leave?” I quizzed the palace manager.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I need to know when she left. How she left. And where she is now.”

“Sir, it’s after midnight.”

I looked at my watch. I didn’t give a shit what time it was. It was his fault she was gone.

“I expect the information to be included in the lodestar.”

“Yes, sir. Understood.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling on the ends in frustration. “Early,” I pressed. “I want the lodestar early.”

“Certainly.”

I hung up, not satisfied with the information I had. Not satisfied about a fucking thing that had happened since the morning.

This morning I had Molly.