by Avery Flynn
Murmurs of surprise lifted above the chatter, drawing her attention toward the entrance guarded by men in full royal dress uniforms of blue and silver. Thirty men and women in black fatigues walked through, looking as deadly as she knew them to be. Some she recognized from the chalet. Others had been passing figures in the crazy moments after Dom had burst into her room and killed the Hulk twins and Walther. The Resistance, her guardian angels watching over her even when she hadn’t known they’d been there.
The crowd parted for them as they made their way to the dais, a silent testament to the bravery and determination of her people. They’d fought for a decade to restore the monarchy and return her to Elskov. She owed them her loyalty and her life. Major Bendtsen stood at the head of the line, his face a neutral mask, but Dom wasn’t anywhere in the group.
Her stomach folded up inside itself. She’d been too late. He was gone.
Another rustle of chatter, then Dom walked past the royal guards and into the garden. Even though he was dressed in his personal uniform of a dark blue suit that set off the crisp blue of his eyes and his light blond hair, he couldn’t disguise the Viking warrior hidden inside. He’d fought for her. Now she’d fight for him.
As soon as he joined the other Resistance fighters in front of her, she withdrew the ceremonial sword from the silver sheath slung around her waist.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Elskov, before you stand the bravest among us. Today marks a new beginning for me as your queen and for Elskov as a country, thanks to the actions of these dedicated few who sprang into action when I was threatened.”
There was more, so much more that they’d done, but she’d agreed with the major to stick with the cover story of an assassination attempt instead of the whole truth of ten years of lies and royal impersonators. “In honor of their courage and valor, I bestow upon these citizens of Elskov the rank of silver knights. It has been centuries since our fair country has had a council of knights watching over her, and we are in good hands with these protectors.”
Starting at the opposite end from Dom, she walked down the line of Resistance fighters, tapping each on the shoulders with the sword and granting them admittance into the circle of aristocracy. When she got to the major, she paused.
“Of course, every council needs a leader. There is none I can imagine as being a better one than you, Major Bendtsen, the Earl of Moad.” The title came with a country estate north of the capital and the responsibility of being in charge of the country’s security.
Her hand shook as she lowered the sword to her side and walked the final two steps to stand in front of Dom. While the others had bowed before her, he stood tall and powerful with those thick lips that begged to be kissed, sucked, devoured, and the muscular body of a man who could stand up to any challenge and win. She could look at him all day and never grow tired. Even in front of all of these people, she couldn’t help but drink in her fill. His blue-eyed gaze clashed with hers, and he gave her a slow wink that made her thighs clench.
“Queen Eloise.” He executed a perfect bow before standing straight again. “That won’t work on me. I’m not a citizen.”
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. They’d had their Roman Holiday, but she wasn’t about to let him gallantly walk away like the reporter had done. This was their destiny, and together they’d seize it.
“True, but being queen has its privileges—conferring citizenship and titles being one of them. It hasn’t happened since my great-grandmother Queen Margriet bestowed the honor on the man who would later become her king.”
He raised an eyebrow, cocky as always. “And is that what you had in mind for me?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I’m afraid I cannot accept such an honor.” Dom shook his head. “That’s not the title I want.”
The world dropped from beneath her feet.
…
The crowd gasped, but Dom ignored them. They didn’t matter to him. Only Elle mattered. She was the only one who really ever had, and she looked like she was about to faint or chop off his head with the sword in her white-knuckled grip. He needed to get talking fast, or she just might pick the more old-school route of the two choices.
“You see, I’m in love with a girl who wants me to wear casual clothes and likes to challenge my every move. She’s stubborn and impulsive and even tried to shoot me.”
Her lips twitched, and her death grip on the sword loosened and she sheathed it. “It was just the once, and you deserved it.”
Soft chuckles from the glitterati surrounded them.
“You see, I’m not in love with the queen.” He took her free hand in his, that familiar spark whenever he touched her turning his dick to stone. “I’m in love with Elle.”
Realization dawned in her eyes, and her cheeks turned that distinctive rose that was all Elle. “And she’s in love with you.”
“You always have choices, Elle, even now that you’re queen.” He dropped down to one knee not because she was his queen, but because she was the woman he loved, worshipped, and adored. “Will you, Elle, choose me, Dom, not as a member of the Resistance, but as the man you love?”
For too long his life had revolved around revenge, around keeping control. He’d had no idea it could be different, it could be more until he’d kidnapped the woman who’d turned out to be the love of his life. She’d changed everything.
“Elle, I have billions in the bank, people at my disposal, and countries I can influence, but the only title I want is husband—to be your husband. Will you marry me?”
Tears made the blue of her eyes brighter, but her smile was anything but sad. “Yes.”
Dom stood and wrapped his arms around her, aligning their bodies, and brought his mouth down to hers in a kiss that promised she’d never be alone again. It wasn’t the beginning for them. It was forever.
Epilogue
Two weeks later Major Lucas Bendtsen got out of his BMW roadster parked in front of the three-story manor house and surveyed his new home. The title of Earl of Moad had come with a country estate on one hundred acres of prime land. The manor house stood on a fjord overlooking the North Sea crashing against the rocks. It wasn’t the bright lights of Harbor City or the constant crush of people in London, but he could get used to it. After growing up on the streets of the capital and doing whatever it took to survive, he’d learned the hard way that he could get used to anything and rise above it. The millions in his bank account proved that.
A gentleman spymaster, that’s what the addict’s son had grown into, with a country house and a title. An aristocrat. His mother would have died of surprise if the needle hadn’t gotten to her already.
His phone vibrated in his suit pocket, a reminder that while he might be lord of the manor, he was also the head of Elskov’s silver knights, an elite intelligence and fighting arm answerable only to the queen herself.
He took out his cell and glanced at the caller ID. It was the agent heading up Operation Family Jewels. Whoever had picked that name deserved a kick in his.
Lucas pressed the talk button. “Yes.”
“Sir, we have her. She’s on her way to you now.”
Adrenaline spiked in his system, and he began pacing in front of the manor house. “Does she know why?”
“Negative. She thinks you are interested in having her design a jeweled family crest befitting of your new station in life.”
God. That made him sound like a total knob. People actually did that? He shook his head. “And the brother?”
“He’s in custody.”
“Good. Don’t let him go.” The scumbag deserved a nice long stay behind bars for bringing two kilos of cocaine into Elskov, but the asshole was still useful, so instead he was sitting in comfort in a safe house on the isolated south shore. “He’s our best leverage to get her to do what we need.”
“Are you sure this is the best plan? There are risks in blackmailing the daughter of one of Europe’s most notorious crime bosses with a side business
as an arms dealer.”
Lucas stopped in his tracks. This wasn’t the best plan. It was the only plan. They had one shot, and he wasn’t about to let the sexy little jewelry designer get away without agreeing to his terms. The number of men who ended up the victims of jewel theft, murdered during a robbery, or never heard from again after tangling with the mobster’s daughter was in dispute, but fifty was probably in the conservative range of possibility. The only question was did the bombshell lure the men into her father’s web or do the dirty deeds herself?
“You’ve read the same reports as I have,” he said, not bothering to keep the icy clip out of his voice. “Walther Henriksen’s son came out of hiding just long enough to put the word out that he wants to buy enough weapons to take over a small country. Three guesses about which country that is. Forcing Ruby MacIntosh to be our mole in her father’s operation means we can stop an attack before it happens.”
“Just be sure you don’t fall under her spell. She has a reputation.”
“So do I.” He grinned. If the man on the other end of the phone could have seen it, he would have taken three steps back. “Be at my office at six tomorrow morning for a briefing. This operation is a go.”
Lucas hung up the phone and turned toward the mile-long driveway. Ruby MacIntosh would arrive within minutes, and then, one way or another, her life would change forever. He’d see to it.
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About the Author
When Avery Flynn isn’t writing about alpha heroes and the women who tame them, she is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip. She has three slightly wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband, and has a slight shoe addiction. Find out more about Avery on her website, follow her on Twitter, like her Facebook page or friend her Facebook profile. Also, if you figure out how to send Oreos through the internet, she’ll be your best friend for life. Contact her at [email protected]. She’d love to hear from you.
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Also by Avery Flynn…
Killer Style series
This Year’s Black
High-heeled Wonder
Make Me Up
Designed for Murder
Betting the Billionaire
Enemies on Tap
Dodging Temptation
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