The Princess Bodyguard

Aurelia

Someone had to remind my father that I wasn't sixteen anymore.

That I hadn't been sixteen for the past six years, and he couldn't pass me off to whomever he wanted because of some hungry reporters who had nothing better to do than write articles to line their pockets.

"Papa." I marched down the echoing hallway lined with pictures of our family, from my father and mother down to people whose names I didn't even know.

I paused when I got to the door of his study, staring at the large brass knocker with my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

I exhaled hard, reining in my frustration.

Don't be pouty, I reminded myself. Don't be childish. That's the only way he'll take you seriously.

And I definitely didn't want him shutting down my request the moment I walked in.

I knocked once and waited for his deep, booming voice to grant me entry before pushing the door open and stepping through.

He sat behind his large, polished mahogany desk—the one our housekeeper, Beatrice, spent hours cleaning and shining every weekend. I cleared my throat as I crossed the room, feeling more apprehensive with every step.

"Aurelia," he said plainly, removing his glasses and setting them aside. He folded his arms and studied me for a moment, as though trying to read my thoughts.

I sighed. "I know it's bad, but it'll fizzle out. It always does. It's not the first time a bad picture of me went viral, is it?" I tried an encouraging smile, tucking my fingers in and raising my thumb. "Like you always say," I added, my lips still stretched wide, "the best thing to do when you're in the middle of a shitstorm is find shelter and wait for it to pass."

Surely he'd see it was the same thing, right?

He scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not the first time. But it's not the tenth time either. You've become a recurring image on the most insulting news outlet in this country."

He ran his fingers through his beard, disappointment evident in his furrowed brow. "It's almost as if you take pleasure in it—in dragging this family's name through the mud."

I didn't.

Honestly, I wished the media would leave me alone. They were everywhere I went, their flashes blinding and their questions never ending, waiting for me to make some clickbait-worthy move.

And sadly, I lacked impulse control.

"Papa," I said softly, going for an apologetic look instead of a pout. I walked to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay? I'll be more careful next time. It's just—" I stopped myself from defending my stance when he shot me a stern frown.

He grunted under his breath. "That's fine."

Really?

"Really?!" I nearly squealed, throwing my arms around his neck. "I love you so much, Papa." I kissed the top of his head, right where I knew he was balding and hated it. "I won't drag the family's name any further than I already have."

"I know you won't," he replied.

Something in his tone—some finality—made me straighten.

I squinted, shaking my head slowly. "Is something going on, Papa?"

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his head. Then he reached into the middle drawer of his desk and pulled out an envelope.

"What's that?" I asked.

He held it out. I stared at it with hesitation before taking it. "You'll deliver this letter to your aunt when you arrive at her villa. It's for her eyes only," he said gruffly.

My aunt?

I rounded the desk and dropped into the chair on the other side so I could see his face clearly.

"What aunt?" I asked, clearly puzzled. "You never told me I had an aunt." I didn't know about any of my extended family, honestly. My life had pretty much revolved around my parents—until Mom passed when I was very young. The only thing I knew about my mom was that she had a brother.

Who died twenty years ago.

Papa leaned forward, his arms braced on the desk. "There's no way around it, princess." His tone stayed strict despite the pet name. "The rumors are beyond what I can control now. If I pay off the press, it'll only blacklist our reputation further."

Rumors, I mused, rolling my eyes subtly.

They were exaggerating everything.

The scandal in question was a picture some random journalist had screenshotted from a video some random asshole took at a party a week ago.

I'd punched a guy.

Sure, but that's all anyone saw. No one cared about the context—that his hands had wandered where they shouldn't, and I'd warned him twice already to stop.

But I couldn't defend myself with the truth, not to my father. He'd warned me to stay away from those parties. They weren't "royal-like." Yup—being a princess, a real royal, meant I couldn't punch people in the face.

Unfortunately, plenty of assholes were asking for it.

"She's your mother's sister," Papa continued gravely. "When your mother and I married, she stayed out of the public eye. She never liked the attention."

I nodded slowly. "Oh. I see. So why am I delivering her a letter?"

He stared at me long enough that a pit formed in my stomach. I gripped my sweatpants with both hands, knees knotted with nerves.

"I'm sending you to live with her," he finally said.

What?

He was joking. Right?

My cheek twitched into a nervous smile as I tried to make light of it. "I know you want to be strict, Papa," I said quickly, "but threatening to send me away won't do any of us any good. You'll be lonely without me," I quipped.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. My pulse dropped into that same gnawing pit.

He wasn't joking.

"Please," I leaned in, my voice desperate. "Please don't send me to live with someone I don't know. Someone I've never met."

I stood when his expression didn't budge, grabbing his hands as I leaned across the desk. "Please, Papa. You don't know what she's like. She could be a terrible person. You might regret this hasty, harsh decision."

A flicker of remorse crossed his face, but he gently pulled away, clearing his throat. "That's why I've decided to send someone with you," he said. "Someone to keep you safe."

Safe?

I frowned harder. "You're sending Beatrice with me?"

He laughed—for the first time, his eyes crinkling. "I don't think Beatrice has it in her to move across the country. And she's good at her job, yes, but there's no way I'd ask her to protect you."

The study door creaked open before I could ask who would. Beatrice walked in, her black-and-white apron tied at her neck and waist, a basket in hand.

"Sir," she nodded curtly at my father, then at me. "Miss." A pause. "There's someone here to see you, sir. Says his name is Arthur."

My brows furrowed so deeply a crease formed between them. Arthur was a common name around these parts, but Papa hadn't mentioned anyone coming today.

He nodded at Beatrice, flicking his wrist. "Send him in."

For some reason, I found myself waiting, almost holding my breath, to see who this mysterious Arthur was. Was he the person Papa wanted to entrust with my safety?

My pulse raced, my heart hammering against my chest. I took a deep breath, willing myself to be calm. I pictured a man in his mid-thirties or early forties in my head. Maybe one of the men who'd acted as my father's bodyguard on business trips.

The kind of man who never smiled, permanent frown lines carved around his mouth.

I groaned quietly as my mind soured to the thought, turning to Papa. "Even if you were going to send me away—which I still think is a terrible idea—you could've let me pick my own bodyguard."

He snorted. "So you'd pick someone who lets you do as you please?" He wagged a finger at me. "You have most of my men wrapped around your finger, Aurelia."

I bit back a smile. True.

But it was part of my job to be friendly. I was Papa's social media manager. I'd wanted to be a lawyer, but he worried I'd only find trouble, so he gave me a corner office instead and let me do as I pleased.

Unfortunately, I excelled at some parts of the job and failed spectacularly at others.

"Arthur," Papa called out as the door opened again, looking past my shoulder with a fond laugh and raising a hand in a half-wave. "I'm so glad you could make it. Sorry for the short notice—I hope I didn't intrude on your plans?"

A low, rumbling voice answered, catching me off guard. "It's my pleasure, sir."

My breath caught. The voice melted through my ears before racing down my chest like molten heat. I pressed my thighs together without meaning to, my eyes darting wildly.

He didn't sound like a man in his forties.

Who was this?

I didn't want to turn. Something in me insisted I stay seated, wait for him to come to me.

But curiosity won when I heard his footsteps. I turned slowly, one hand braced on the armrest.

I turned—

And my jaw dropped.

My eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as I stared at the man crossing the room in measured strides, hands clasped behind his back. My gaze lingered on his dark hair, wavy and short, with stray wisps falling over his face.

I took in his eyes—that stunning blue I knew all too well—and his cheekbones, now sharp enough to cut through steel.

Light stubble shadowed his jaw, doing nothing to soften its hard line, and his Adam's apple sat high against the column of his throat.

Dear heavens.

My fingers gripped the chair tighter, until I felt my nails tear into Papa's expensive leather.

This couldn't be happening.

Surely I was hallucinating. I must've slipped and hit my head the moment Papa mentioned the countryside, because there was no way—

He paused beside my chair, and my heart stopped when our gazes locked. Something sparked in his eyes, lingering on my face for one unbearable second before he moved on.

Then he crossed to Papa, hand extended. "Good to finally see you again, Mr. Castleworth."

Papa grinned, shaking Arthur's hand like he'd just welcomed home a long-lost son. I sat frozen, lips parted and my throat painfully dry.

"Aurelia," Papa said, gesturing toward me. "You remember Arthur, don't you?"

Of course I did.

Arthur Thorne.

The boy I'd fallen in love with at sixteen. The boy who shattered my heart into pieces I never fully found again. The only person I had ever truly hated.

Papa's next words landed like a bombshell, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath me.

"Arthur will be your bodyguard for the next three months, while you stay with your aunt Evelyn in the countryside."