The Elite (Romantic Suspense)

Daphne: 20 Questions

Daphne didn't remember falling asleep on the flight, but she was jostled awake by the wheels touching down on the runway. She turned her head slightly and winced; she must have fallen asleep with her head at a weird angle.

"We'll deplane in a few moments, Your Royal Highness," Gill said, appearing suddenly next to her seat. "A car is waiting for you."

Daphne nodded, willing her brain to catch up with everything happening around her. "Thank you." She cleared her throat to remove the hoarseness of sleep.

She chanced looking to the right a second time and saw that the seat the mysterious protection officer had occupied was now empty. For half a second, she wondered if he had parachuted out of the plane when she'd fallen asleep. She'd never been around a member of the palace's security team who was so averse to talking about himself. Rather than annoy her, it intrigued her.

It had to be the middle of the night — she hadn't seen a clock since getting into the limo in Italy, but she could feel herself fading. The inky blackness that lingered just beyond the airport lights confirmed her suspicions. For a moment, her thoughts flashed back to Gustavo and the situation on the red carpet. Instead of sadness or fear, she felt an overwhelming numbness. She had gone from engaged woman to single in one horrible instant and survived a bomb detonating yards from her and she felt... nothing. You knew it was coming, the little voice at the back of her head sneered. You couldn't believe he actually proposed, remember? It was only a matter of time before everything fell apart anyway.

The plane stopped, and she waited for a few moments as the protection officers stepped off the plane to form a perimeter. The officer who escorted her from the airport took so long to appear that Daphne began to wonder if he really had left. His hair was slightly wet, and he was wearing a charcoal grey pullover and jeans that fit well enough, but not exactly right. He met her eyes and smirked an almost-smile. "I left my bag in Rome. Had to borrow some clothes from Schmidt."

Was he... self-conscious? It was hard to imagine the unflappable PPO feeling anything so normal. Maybe he was tired enough not to care about protocol. She hoped it was the later, even as she backpeddled away from the thought. He worked for her father. Friendly acquaintances were the most they could ever be. Heaven help her if her grandmother ever caught wind of the slightest hint of feelings for any of the PPOs. They would be fired faster than you could say, "conflict of interest."

"Good thing he was here with you and not Morgan." Her personal PPO was over six feet tall. "You'd probably have a hard time sharing pants."

The stranger grinned, and the easiness of it reminded her to tread carefully. Apparently that was going to be on a continuous loop until he returned to his normal duties.

Something about her expression must have startled him out of the moment. He seemed to remember himself and snapped back into "work mode." His face was instantly devoid of emotion. Without another word, he walked down the aisle of the plane, speaking into his earpiece in short bursts that she couldn't quite make out.

Gill came back a few minutes later, smiling politely. "We're ready whenever you are ready to deplane, Your Highness."

She smiled slightly, grateful that she wouldn't be stuck on this plane any longer. "Thank you."

Gill and Schmidt walked on either side of her as they hurried her out of the plane and into the waiting black sedan. The other officer was sitting on the far side of the car staring straight ahead. He glanced over at her as the door opened. "Fancy meeting you here."

Daphne wished she had a clever response, but her practiced small talk seemed jammed behind her previous concerns about relaxing protocol too much. Just thinking about the way his calloused hands had held hers made her face hot. Sitting in another enclosed space during the drive might be more than her self-control could endure.