The Elite (Romantic Suspense)

Daphne: On the Precipice

Something she'd said made the man across from her uncomfortable. For some reason, that thought clearly registered in her brain when so much else seemed fuzzy. Even in her slightly muddled state – which was rapidly declining as the adrenaline of the race away from the theatre began to ebb – Daphne had the distinct impression that this PPO wasn't someone who was easily rattled. His discomfort looked... wrong somehow, like a coat that was a few sizes too small.

And then, so quickly that Daphne would have been tempted to dismiss her assessment if she hadn't watched the transformation before her very eyes, he was the same cool, collected man who had whisked her away to safety.

Instead of responding to the implied question of why he was so different from the others she had met, Jacob shrugged good-naturedly and smiled a little sheepishly. "Let's just say that I came to know the commander very well during my time at school. And he isn't someone I would include as a reference on a resume."

The laugh that bubbled up in response to a lukewarm joke shocked her. Instead of a polite chuckle, Daphne laughed so hard that she could feel herself slipping across the narrow line between humor into sobbing. The man across the table must have registered that concern as well, because he carefully reached for the mug of coffee clutched between her hands and gently brought it back to the table.

Daphne was embarrassed, but didn't fight him. If anything, she appreciated the gentle reminder that she didn't know him well enough to fall to pieces here.

She reached up with a shaky hand and ran a finger under her eyes, trying to catch the tears that had started to accumulate there. "I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, the remnants of a smile still tugging on the corners of her mouth. "I really respect that you didn't allow Colonel Taft to force you to conform."

She reached for her coffee and took another small swallow, praying that she didn't spill any on herself.

Instead of fixating on whether or not she was alarming the stranger sitting across from her, her thoughts ping-ponged manically. Had she really just laughed? When there might be people who were dead because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time without a bodyguard to pull them away from the danger?

In a heartbeat, she was back in the crush of bodies on the red carpet, moving as fast as she could to avoid being trampled, the screams of everyone around her overwhelming her ability to root herself in the present.

"Your Highness?" the PPO's voice sounded far away now, barely audible over the sounds she knew would be etched in her mind forever. Even if Daphne wanted to, she couldn't look at him. Every muscle in her body was rigid, frozen as the screams echoed in her mind.

"Daphne."

She wasn't sure if a minute or an hour passed before she startled back into the present by her own name. She jolted and looked at him immediately. No PPO had ever spoken to her in that tone before, including the man who somehow had her hands closed between both of his calloused palms. When had he moved to the chair next to her?

Daphne sat back slightly, unsettled by the way he was looking at her and the concern she read in his eyes. She was not weak. She would not allow him to pity her.

As if he anticipated her moving away from him, he kept his hands firmly closed around hers. And then he unraveled her by saying the one thing that she never expected. "You are allowed to feel happy."

The tears she'd tried so hard to keep at bay filled her eyes and she swallowed hard, freeing one hand to pinch the corners of her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She nodded silently because he expected her to.

"You laughing at my stupid joke doesn't change anything about what is happening at the theatre right now. Or what happened when you were on the red carpet."

Daphne took a deep breath, trying to believe what he was telling her, wishing that she could grab the liferaft that he had tossed to her. But the possibility that her presence might have cost someone else's life was enough to keep her from letting herself off the hook. Until they had whoever was responsible in custody, any enjoyment was a stark reminder of the privilege that her golden cage afforded her.

And of the terrifying hold that old shadows in her life still had on her, even after all of these years.

When it became clear that she wasn't going to say anything else, the PPO squeezed her hand again, more gently. "Are you hungry? I think there are some meals in the refrigerator. I'm sure you didn't have the chance to eat before you left for the ceremony."

Daphne tried to smile, although the muscles around her mouth didn't seem to want to cooperate. "I was on a 24 hour water fast on the orders of Gustavo's stylist. I didn't want to look bloated in my dress."

Some part of her brain – the part that could still function somewhat normally – cringed at the mention of fasting. The last thing she needed to do was to give him more evidence of how shallow her life often was. His initial impression of the second-in-line to the throne was going to be drastically different than he probably imagined. And not in a good way.

If he was disgusted, he hid it well. "Would you like something now? I could see what I can find?"

She shook her head.

Seeming desperate to take care of her, he pitched his voice as friendly and casual as he could. "We still have about an hour until we reach Montrovia. You're welcome to rest in the bedroom if you'd like."

Daphne shook her head again. "I'm fine," she said quietly, wanting her words to be as tightly controlled as possible lest she make herself seem even more out of touch with reality.

He nodded, surprising her by sitting back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling above him for a long moment to stretch the muscles in his neck.

Morgan would have absolutely argued with her, most likely insisting that she at least lay down in the bed for a little while. Even after almost ten years with him on her security detail, Morgan seemed unable to see Daphne as anything other than the fourteen-year-old girl who she had been when they met. It was refreshing to have someone treat her like an adult.