Harry's pov

In the back of the car, raindrops trace delicate patterns on the windowpane as we drive through the streets of London. It appears it hasn't stopped raining since I got back from my small trip. When it rains it truly does pour.. The soft glow of the streetlights reflects off the wet pavement, casting a dreamy ambience. Anna sits beside me, her thoughts swirling in the depths of her mind. With a cup of coffee in my hand and a glass of champagne in hers, we find ourselves in a tense silence, both aware of the distance that hangs between us. Since she came back from seeing Pippa, she hasn't been the same. I left almost instantly to catch a flight after the lovemaking in a darkened room we stumbled into. The lovemaking didn't make things easier. She's still pissed with me.

The atmosphere is charged with anticipation, as Anna musters the courage to ask a question that lingers on her lips. This can't be good. I'm not naive.

I glance down at my phone vibrating, message after message coming through— someone's pissed. I clear my throat and look towards Anna who is not paying attention and take the moment to read the messages.

Unknown Number

New detail coming in soon, confirm text.

New detail coming in soon, confirm text.

New detail coming in soon, confirm

Your reads are on, I can see you reading the text messages.

Don't make me fly out there.

I heavily sigh and tap my fingers against my screen. "Confirm.... You just can't leave me alone, can you?"

"It's my job to not leave you alone... I need the ID Code."

"No." I type back, a smile forming on my lips, as the little text bubble appears and disappears.

"If you don't cooperate I will move your flight and you will be jetting off in an hour. Your schedule shows you're currently busy, and your location shows you're in the car. So, which is it, deep cover?"

I roll my eyes at the text and send my ID, watching a file send through as Anna looks over towards me. I lock my phone, deciding to read the details in a moment.

"So," Anna begins, "When did you plan to tell me you slept with Pippa?" Anna asks me, and I can't help but choke on my coffee, "Or did you plan to keep it a secret?"

I clear my throat and take another sip of my coffee before speaking, "Let me preface this by saying this happened before you and I started dating."

"What made you think it would be a good idea to sleep with my prime minister?"

"To be fair, she wasn't your prime minister at the time," I respond.

"When was it?"

"I don't think this is fair or appropriate right now."

I can feel Anna's determination as she firmly shakes her head and says, "Tell the driver to take another lap around the block. I'm not stepping out of this car until I get the answers I need." Her resolve is unwavering, and I can sense the intensity in her voice. Despite my reluctance, I do as I'm told.

The car continues its journey, circling the block as Anna adjusts the length of her dress. "Tell me," Anna demands.

"I don't ask about the people you've slept with and I know I'm not the only one."

Anna shakes her head, "who I've slept with don't help run a country and don't pop up to be destructive."

"Fucking aye, okay. Do you want to know about the night it happened? Fine. It was the night she was elected and won the polls." I mutter, taking a breath before beginning to tell Anna the details.

*** Flash Back ***

I lean against the bar, straight whiskey in my drink as I allow the strong liquid to rush down my throat burning all feelings and emotions. It has been a rough few days, I haven't slept, the King has had me running all over London, and here I am at an event I don't want to be at.

As the crowd's anticipation reaches its peak, the room becomes electric with excitement. The air is thick with the scent of ambition and power, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations.

Lost in my thoughts, I watch Anna gracefully navigate through the crowd, her presence captivating and radiant. The whiskey in my glass offers a temporary respite from the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. It's in moments like these when the world is focused on the grand stage of politics, that I find myself captivated by the subtle nuances of Anna's every move. But for now, I'll keep my feelings hidden, content to observe from the sidelines as the new prime minister is elected.

I sigh, reminding myself that Anna's attention lies elsewhere. She moves through the crowd with confidence, her eyes fixed on the important figures in the room. Her focus is on the political affairs of the evening, not on any personal connections. I understand that she isn't interested in me, and I respect that. How could she ever want someone like me?

A commoner.

I take another swig of the whiskey, feeling its warmth spreading through my veins. The room spins slightly as I try to steady myself, my vision blurred by the alcohol.

Pippa saunters over to me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She suggests we escape to a hotel room upstairs, her voice laced with temptation. "Come on," she flicks her head, her eyes following my drunken gaze that is on Anna. "Oh, you poor thing, she'll never see you for anything more than what you are, security," Pippa responds with a sarcastic remark, her words dripping with disdain. Pippa leans closer, pressing her lips to my ear, "Upstairs, darling," she whispers, her hand tugging on my tie. The tension between us is palpable, fueled by the alcohol coursing through my veins.

Pippa's voice drips with seduction as she leans in, her eyes locked with mine. "You know, Harry," she purrs, "I've always wondered what it would be like to see you without your clothes and under my body," Her words send a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire within me.

"Oh?" I cock my head to the side, "You sure you didn't say that to the last guy you tried to fuck?"

Pippa giggles and throws her head back as her hands press to my hips, "Maybe, but does that matter?"

In my drunken state, I struggle to resist her advances, my mind clouded by the alcohol. The room spins around us as I weigh the consequences of my actions, torn between the allure of the forbidden and the desire I have for Anna.

Pippa takes my hand, her touch warm and inviting, as she guides me through the dimly lit hallway, leaving the party behind us. The soft glow of the sconces casts a gold ambience, intensifying the fluttering in my chest. We stumble into the elegant elevator, its mirrored walls reflecting our dishevelled appearances. Pippa's laughter fills the small space, intertwining with the muffled sound of our drunken comments. With each floor we ascend, the anticipation builds, and I can't help but take bold possession of the moment, pushing her against the mirror and kissing her deeply, wanting nothing more than drunken sex. "This means nothing," I murmur against her lips, her fingers tugging my shirt out of my pants.

"No strings. Just fuck me," she demands, unbuttoning my shirt as the elevator numbers rise.

She pushes on me, breaking our kiss as the elevator doors open, revealing a corridor adorned with plush carpeting and tasteful artwork, we stumble together towards a hotel room, the air thick with drunken desires.

Pippa and I stumble into the hotel room, our bodies pressed close together, struggling to keep our hands off each other. The air crackles with electricity as our laughter fades into breathless anticipation. Every touch, every glance, fuels the fire burning between us. We're lost in the moment, unable to resist the temptation. It's all just a game, a fleeting moment of pleasure. We both know there's no deeper connection, no emotional bond. We indulge in the physical, knowing it means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

The room becomes a blur as we give in to the alcohol, clothes scattering to the floor before our bodies hit the soft bed. Our bodies intertwined in a tangle of limbs. Our hands roam freely, exploring each other's bodies with a hunger that can't be denied.

She's undeniably attractive, and there's no denying I like the physical touch of us. But even in my drunken state, I see through her conniving ways, her immoral actions driven by her political ambitions. She may be skilled in the art of manipulation, but I can't let myself be fooled by her facade. Our physical connection may be intense, but I can't ignore the fact that she's a politician, always playing games for her gain.

I throw the covers over her, breathless from our passionate encounter. "You need to leave now," I tell her firmly.

Pippa laughs, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, come on. I'm not expecting cuddles and sweet nothings in the morning."

"Good, because you won't get it," I respond, my tone serious as reality sets in. Yes, she's attractive, but she's Pippa.

Pippa sits up, the sheet draped over her body, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes smoulder with desire. "It's Anna, isn't it?" she says, her voice filled with knowing.

"What?" I ask, scrambling to find my pants.

She shrugs, her expression nonchalant. "We just had meaningless sex. You wished it was Anna lying here."

"We just slept together and you want to talk about another woman?" I retort, frustration evident in my voice.

"Well, it was just physical," she says dismissively.

I pause, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. I frantically fumble with the buttons on my shirt, my hands trembling with agitation. I avoid Pippa's gaze, my jaw clenched tightly. With a frustrated sigh, I grab Pippa's dress and toss it towards her, my actions filled with an air of dismissiveness. It's evident that I want to avoid any conversation about Anna, shutting down any potential discussion before it even begins.

Pippa sighs and holds her dress in her hands, "I guess I have an election to win. Wish me luck?" She softly asks as she stands in front of me, completely naked. Fuck.

I bite my lip and lock eyes with her, "No. This ends here, no seduction."

"You're more fun with your clothes off," she sighs, beginning to pull her dress over her body.

*** End Flashback ***

I lock eyes with Anna, a wave of self-loathing washing over me for my drunken mistake with Pippa. "I didn't know you'd ever give me a chance," I blurt out, desperately trying to defend myself.

Anna's expression remains unyielding. "That doesn't excuse what you did," she retorts sharply.

I take a deep breath, frustration and regret mingling within me. "It was a meaningless, one-time thing, Anna. If I wanted Pippa, I wouldn't have been with you," I say, my voice filled with conviction.

Anna rolls her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Wow, what a compelling argument you're making," she says, clearly unimpressed.

Anna's anger simmers beneath the surface as she glares at me, her frustration palpable. "You think being with me makes it all okay?" she seethes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, congratulations on your noble sacrifice."

I wince at her biting words, realizing the depth of her resentment. "No, Anna, that's not what I meant," I stammer, desperately trying to find the right words to salvage the situation.

Pippa was nothing but a drunken mistake.

She scoffs, her eyes filled with disappointment. "Save it, Harry. I don't want to hear any more excuses," she snaps, turning away from me, her body language radiating anger and hurt.

"Anastasia," I begin, "Look, I can't change that it happened, and I can't change how you found out. This is what she wanted, to piss you off and it's working." ... "Baby," I reach for her hand and she surprisingly allows me to hold it. "She's a snake, this is what she does."

"I'm irritated you hid it from me. That's an important thing to tell the future fucking Queen."

"I didn't think she would stoop so low as to use a drunken night against me. Just because you are a future queen doesn't mean I have to divulge my whole prior life," I say, shaking my head in disappointment.

"Anyone else I need to be aware of that you messed around with?" Anna asks, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"None that have any impact on the monarchy," I assure her, hoping to alleviate the worries she may have over the damn monarchy.

Anna presses for more details, asking, "Who are they?" I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the conversation.

"Anna... there were a couple of models," I reluctantly admit, my tone filled with regret.

"A couple? More than one?" Anna questions, clearly taken aback by the revelation.

I nod solemnly, acknowledging the truth. "Yes, a few. But not all of them were drunken encounters."

Her next question cuts through the tension, "Did you just sleep around with everyone?"

"No, Anna," I respond firmly, my voice tinged with remorse. "It wasn't like that. I made mistakes."

"Who? Are they well known?"

"Surprisingly, they are quite well-known in the fashion industry," I respond, raising an eyebrow as she gawks at me wanting more information.

Anna leans in, her curiosity piqued. "Wait, are they going to be at the fashion show tomorrow?"

I nod, a hint of reluctance in my expression. "Yes, one of them should be walking the runway tomorrow."

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "And is that why you didn't want to go?"

I shake my head, a mix of frustration and honesty in my voice. "No, it's not just about that. It's about keeping our relationship under wraps for now."

Anna scoffs, clearly not convinced. "I call bullshit."

Feeling the tension rise, I decide it's best to change the subject. "Alright, we've arrived. Let's get out of the car and enjoy the evening, shall we?"

"You slept with models. And nobody knew?"

"I keep my relationships private," I respond. "There's a lot people do not know about me," I mutter.

I'm far from an open book, if I were an open book, I'd be in quite a lot of trouble. "And it isn't like you haven't slept with anyone before me... Don't act like you haven't slept with Niall."

"It was a drunken night," Anna instantly responds. "How'd you even know?"

"I have my ways. If you can hide drunken sex before our relationship, so can I."

"I want a name," Anna responds bitterly.

I shake my head, "No." I firmly respond, forcing the car door open to end the conversation.

Anna's eyes burn with determination as she steps out of the car, her heels clicking against the pavement. Pippa stands before her, a sly smirk playing on her lips. "Well, well, Anna," Pippa taunts, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You finally show up and only a few minutes late," Pippa rolls her eyes, "And I see you bought your attack dog," Pippa looks towards me with a smile, "hmm, still attractive," Pippa gleams.

Here we go. I should have stayed home.

Anna's jaw tightens, and the tension between them crackles in the air as they lock gazes, both refusing to back down. Anna's voice fills with a mix of anger and defiance, "The best thing for you to do, is to stay out of my way."

"Ohh, the icy Queen is finally biting back. I like it."

I glare towards Pippa, "Anna, let's go," I mutter, taking a breath and guiding Anna away, hoping to defuse the raging anger inside Anna.

Anna gracefully walks the red carpet, her smile radiant as the flashing cameras capture her every move. The voices clamour for her attention, eager to capture her photo and be a part of her world. She embraces the chaos with poise, acting like nothing happened a few moments ago in the car. The world would never know.

As I stand, watching the crowd, it is impossible to ignore the way everyone sought Anna's attention. People flock to her, their eyes filled with admiration and longing. I can't blame them, for Anna possesses a magnetic charm that draws people in. It is both a blessing and a curse, knowing that she is the centre of attention wherever she goes. But deep down, I can't help but feel a twinge of possessiveness, wanting her attention for myself above all others.

I hate events, I hate attending them as her unknown partner and I hate attending them as security. Genuinely hate large events that bring attention to everybody. They're also tedious and fucking boring. I turn to Niall and heavily sigh, "I would rather poke needles in my eyes than stand here for another minute and listen to half these conversations about utter bullshit."

Niall chuckles and takes a sip of his drink, "That is why I stand by the bar and drink."

"I'm not allowed to drink," I mutter.

"I never said I was allowed to. But who's going to stop me?" Niall asks, "It sure as fuck isn't going to be you. I'm not high enough on the royal chain for anyone to care."

"Why are you here then?" I curiously ask.

Niall lifts his shoulders into a shrug. "You cancelled poker night."

"I'm fucking working," I laugh, "Oh, fuck here's Pippa," I mutter.

"That's my queue to go be a prince," Niall waves himself off, leaving me to face Pippa alone.

Pippa can't help but let out a snarky comment as she looks at me. "Oh, Harry, you've outdone yourself this time, haven't you? Quite the charmer, aren't you? I must say, Anna's reaction is simply priceless." Her words drip with sarcasm, as she takes pleasure in the discomfort she has caused.

"This is your doing."

"Takes two to tango." Pippa remarks, "We could tango again?"

I shake my head, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, "I'm taken."

Pippa lifts her shoulders into a shrug, not caring. "You're taken by default. What does she have that I don't?"

"Morals, integrity, just to name a few... I'm sure it's just a matter of time before you leak our relationship."

Pippa chuckles, "I thought about it. I'll let your sister release that one. I ran into her today."

I glare towards Pippa, "Do not bait my sister."

Anna forces a smile, though her eyes betray the cold fury simmering beneath the surface as she walks closer to us. Fuck. "Pippa," she begins, her voice light but with an edge sharp enough to cut, "it's always so... delightful to see you take such an interest in our lives."

Pippa tilts her head slightly, her smirk widening. "Oh, you know me, Anna. I just can't resist a little excitement now and then." She glances at me, her eyes lingering for just a moment too long before flicking back to Anna.

Anna's grip on her handbag tightens ever so slightly, knuckles whitening as she takes a step closer to me. "Excitement is one thing," she says evenly, "but there's a fine line between excitement and intrusion, don't you think?"

Pippa laughs softly, the sound grating on Anna's nerves. "Intrusion?" Pippa echoes, feigning surprise. "I didn't realize enjoying the company of an old friend was such a crime. Or is it only a problem when that friend is Harry?"

Anna swallows the biting retort on the tip of her tongue. She's not going to give Pippa the satisfaction of seeing her riled up. Instead, she smiles tightly. "You know very well what you're doing, Pippa." Her tone is calm, and measured. "But if you think you can drive a wedge between us with these little games, you're going to be disappointed."

Pippa raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Oh, Anna, dear, you really should relax. All this tension can't be good for you." She reaches out as if to touch me again, but Anna steps forward, subtly interposing herself between us. Thank the heavens.

"Don't," Anna says softly, her voice so low only Pippa can hear. It's not a threat—it's a warning.

Pippa hesitates for the briefest moment, then drops her hand, her smirk never wavering. "Very well," she murmurs, her eyes flicking to me with a challenge still burning in them. "But remember, Anna, I always get what I want. In the end."

Anna holds her gaze, her own eyes hard and unyielding. "We'll see about that." Her voice is polite, her smile even more so, but there's an unmistakable promise of battle in every word.

I shift on my feet, acutely aware of the photographers pressing in around us. The flashing lights are relentless, capturing every tense second between Anna and Pippa. This was supposed to be a straightforward event, but now it's spiralling into a spectacle, and I'm right at the centre of it. My stomach knots. This isn't what I signed up for.

"Look, maybe we should just—" I try to say something, anything, to diffuse the situation, but the words get lost as another camera flash blinds me. I can practically hear the headlines forming:

I take a deep breath, trying to assess the situation with a clear head despite the chaos around us. The cameras are clicking like mad, every flash searing this moment into a permanent record. If I'm not careful, this could spiral into a tabloid frenzy. I have to handle this right. Quickly, I slip into the mindset of the role I'm supposed to play—security, not the man caught between them.

With deliberate calm, I place my arm around Anna, my touch light but firm. I guide her away from Pippa, my movements are measured and professional. To anyone watching, it should look like I'm just doing my job, ensuring Anna's safety and steering her out of an uncomfortable situation. Not as a friend or anything more. Just security detail maintaining control.

"Let's go," I murmur, keeping my voice low and businesslike. I steer Anna toward the entrance, making sure my expression remains neutral, eyes scanning our path. I can feel her tense beside me, her body rigid under my hand.

As we finally step inside, out of the photographer's line of sight, I feel Anna exhale, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension starts to drain away. I drop my arm from around her, glancing at her face, trying to gauge where she's at. But her expression remains composed, a mask firmly in place.

Anna's pov

As we sit here, the murmurs of the crowd and the soft music of the event fading into the background, it becomes harder to maintain the pretence. Our fingers are linked, hidden in the shadows between our seats, and every gentle squeeze from him sends a jolt through me. It's impossible to ignore the swirling feelings inside of me. The thrill of possibly being caught heightens everything. One wrong move and our relationship is on display for the world. I don't care anymore.

I can feel my chest rise and fall with each careful breath I take, my composure wavering just enough for me to feel the struggle underneath. I'm trying so hard to keep it together, to stay poised.

I shift slightly in my seat, leaning toward him as if discussing something related to the event. The scent of his cologne, delicate and familiar, fills the space between us, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to steady myself. When I open them, he's already looking at me, his eyes softer than I've seen all evening, filled with something raw and unguarded. He's finally calm.

My lips part, just the faintest bit, and he knows I'm about to say something, something real, but I catch myself, glancing around us at the room full of people. I want him to know I want him. So instead, I offer him a small smile. His fingers breaking away from mine and moving to sit on my thigh.

I exhale shakily, my eyes flicking back to his. The mask is crumbling, and I can feel everything—fear, longing, and a love so intense it almost makes me forget where we are. I tilt my head slightly, my eyes locked on his, silently pleading with him to take this further.

His thumb moves, tracing a gentle circle across my thigh. I shiver at the contact, my eyes fluttering closed for a second before I open them again. "Harry," I whisper, barely audible over the low hum of the room, but the way I say his name is enough to convey what I want—soft, intimate, and achingly familiar.

I lean in, my lips just inches from his ear, our faces turned away from the room. "Harry," I murmur, my voice thick with everything I can't say aloud. I let my breath linger against his skin. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat urging me to forget the world outside this bubble we've created.

I feel his hand squeeze my thigh and I feel every defence break. I inhale sharply, my eyes fluttering shut as I lean into the touch, his hand tightening around my thigh with a desperate grip. He wants more—I can feel it, the same as I do—but then he pulls back, just a fraction.

"We can't," I breathe, my voice a strained whisper meant only for him. But even as I say it, I don't move. Instead, I cling to it like it's the only thing keeping me steady, his thumb stroking against my thigh, trembling motions. It's a contradiction, a push and pull between what we're supposed to do and what we desperately want.

I can hardly breathe. Every time Harry's hand moves against me, every brush of his thumb against my skin, it sends a shiver through me that I can't hide. I tell myself to stay calm and to keep my face composed, but inside, I'm a storm of emotions. I know I shouldn't be doing this—none of this—but my heart doesn't care about what's right or wrong. It only knows what it wants.

Minutes tick by in agonizing silence. The event continues around us, but I can't focus on a single word. All I feel is the heat of Harry beside me, the intensity of his gaze every time he glances my way. It's too much. I thought I could sit here and endure it, pretend that this feeling wasn't clawing at me, but I was wrong.

Finally, I turn to him, catching his eye. My heart is pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it. "Harry," I whisper, my voice trembling. He leans in, his eyes locked on mine, concern mingling with something deeper. For a second, I almost lose my nerve, but then I steel myself. "Meet me in the hallway," I say, my voice barely audible, but the urgency is clear. I have to do this. I need to feel close to him, even if just for a fleeting moment.

I stand, murmuring a polite excuse to the others nearby, something about needing fresh air. They nod, barely paying attention, and I move quickly, my legs carrying me toward the door with more speed than elegance.

The hallway outside is cool and dimly lit, a welcome contrast to the overheated room behind me. I walk a few paces down the corridor, away from the door, my heart hammering in my chest. I can hear my breathing, fast and shallow, as I try to calm the storm inside me.

I lean against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to collect myself. The silence of the hallway wraps around me, offering a brief moment of clarity. Then I hear the door open, and soft footsteps approaching, and I know it's him. I don't open my eyes right away.

I turn around, and the sight of him, standing there with that look in his eyes—so much concern, so much need—breaks down the last of my resolve. I cross the distance between us in a few quick strides and grab his jacket, yanking him toward me. Before he can say anything, before I can think, my lips crash against his.

I kiss him like I've been starving for it because I have. All night—hell, for longer than I care to admit—I've been holding back, pretending, playing the part. But here, right now, there's no one watching, no cameras, no expectations. Just Harry and me. And it's everything I need.

He staggers slightly from the force of my kiss, but then his hands find my waist, anchoring me against him, and he kisses me back just as fiercely. It's almost desperate like we're trying to make up for all the times we've had to keep this hidden, all the moments we've had to pull away before someone saw too much. His mouth is warm and insistent against mine, and I let out a shaky breath through my nose as his hands slide up to cradle my face, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss.

"Baby," he breathes, suddenly coming to his senses, my fingers gripping his shirt, "Let's move." He insists,

I nod, feeling the weight of our decision as Harry takes my hand, his grip steady and reassuring. We move quickly down the hallway, the tension still thick between us, but there's an exhilarating rush in knowing that we're finally allowing ourselves to be honest.

When we reach the elevators, I step inside, my heart racing as he follows, the doors sliding shut behind us. The small space feels intimate, charged with the energy we've been holding back. I watch him as he pushes the button for a floor, his expression bright with yearning and something deeper, something almost desperate.

As the elevator ascends, he turns to face me, stepping closer. My back hits the wall, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze locking me in place. I can barely breathe, the air thick with anticipation.

Without warning, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that feels like it's been building for ages. It's bold and possessive, igniting every nerve ending in my body. I melt against the wall, losing myself in him, the world outside fading into oblivion.

Every worry, every fear about being seen or caught slips away as I lean into the kiss, my hands moving up to his shoulders, anchoring myself to him. I can feel his warmth enveloping me, the taste of him igniting a fire within me that I have truly missed.

"Harry," I murmur, my voice a blend of longing and apprehension. "We can't stay here."

He pauses, his forehead resting against mine, both of us panting softly, our breaths mingling. "I know," he replies, his voice low and husky. But he doesn't step back; instead, he grips my waist gently, holding me against him as if he's afraid to let go.

"We should—" I begin, but the words die on my lips as he leans in again, capturing my mouth with his in another searing kiss, his hands moving up my dress.

"Shhh," he whispers against my lips, my body relaxing into his feeling his fingers at the lace of my underwear. I pull away from his kiss and take a deep breath, my leg wrapping around his body, keeping me up.

He doesn't tease his fingers against me or waste time, he takes control and slides his fingers inside me, my head falling back in pleasure with each enthralling motion he grants me.

I let out a moan, the crashing waves threatening to break my resistance with every moment, my fingers digging into his shirt, begging for more. But the elevator chimes and the doors slide open, pulling me back to reality. Panic flashes through me as I glance outside, knowing we're still in a public space. "Harry, we need to—"

He cuts me off with another quick kiss, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just a few more seconds," he whispers against my lips, and I can't help but smile despite the urgency.

With one last deep breath, I nod, surrendering to the moment. The thrill of being caught, the danger of being seen, only adds to the intensity. His kiss deepens and the grip around my body tightens as I pull away from the kiss, "Don't stop," I beg, the captivating sensation I've been longing for so close.

He smirks as my body falls into him, heavy breaths evident. "Come on," he whispers, hitting the open button on the doors before leading us down a dimly lit hallway.

"Someone gets off on the idea of being caught," Harry muses, opening a hotel door with the swipe of a card before allowing me in.

"Someone preplanned a hotel room," I raise a brow, watching him close the door and lock it before he faces me.

He lifts his shoulders into a shrug, stepping closer to me, "You had the same idea, you started this," he gestures towards me, and I chuckle.

I throw my arms around his shoulders, kissing him lightly, "I've missed this," I whisper with a small smile. I've missed the playfulness and the sneaking around, the private time and not always having people around.

We haven't had the chance to be alone lately, we haven't had privacy and it has been horrible. I've been thrown into a world where I'm always watched and constantly worried that my world will destroy Harry and I's relationship.

"Me too, baby," he whispers, carefully kissing my neck. No more talking," he instructs, his hands dancing to the back of my dress. He carefully finds the zip and pulls it down. My dress falls to the floor, and my hands glide to his shirt, unbuttoning it with ease as we stumble our way through the hotel room and to the bed.

***

Harry's pov

Anna left for the fashion show before I did. This morning, I heard her walking around the hotel room, stumbling in the dark to find her attire. A small smile found its way to my lips as it settled in that this is my life—waking up to her, even if it's still a secret.

I lean against the wall, feeling the weight of the long night settling on my shoulders. With a sigh, I close my eyes for a moment, trying to find some relief from the ache. I'm tired and I know that is the main issue I am facing at the moment— a lack of sleep. I dipped out of the hotel room during the night and came back before Anna woke up.

I read through the documents last night that were sent over text. I'm expected to take intel on Alaric. There's no way around it. If Anna finds out, she will be pissed.

Willow's voice breaks through my thoughts, and I open my eyes, adjusting my posture. "Most security personnel keep their eyes open."

"Most Queens don't drink vodka at events," I tease, catching a whiff of the strong scent from her glass.

She shrugs her shoulders, curiosity in her eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should share my discomfort. "If I tell you, you'll get me kicked off security."

A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Oh, come on, I don't have that much power." She cackles— she knows she does.

I chuckle, appreciating her lightheartedness. "You have more power than you let on, Willow. My shoulder is aching a little."

She raises an eyebrow, seeing right through my attempt to downplay the pain. "You're lying. It hurts a lot. I've never seen you leaning against a wall with your eyes closed like this. It's not your nature. Leaning against walls is not protocol."

I can't help but smile at her perceptiveness. Leaning against the wall is a no-go in the field I used to work in. "Well, you don't usually see me," I point out.

She hums in agreement, concern evident in her voice. "Just go home."

I playfully protest, not quite ready to give up my duties. "Are you dismissing me from your service?"

She nods, a hint of seriousness in her eyes. "Sure, I am. Your well-being is more important."

"You just want to drink vodka in peace."

Willow shrugs her shoulders, "You always let me drink in peace, it's the others who don't."

"Oh," I hum, "So you requested my service because I allow you to drink?" I ask.

"Precisely," she responds with a chuckle, holding her drink up before taking a sip. "If you need to leave my service, you can. You'll be receiving a call soon, so I'd relax while you can."

What call? I'm meant to be on a flight in a few hours.

"Thanks, Willow," I nod my head. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder why someone like her is involved in politics," I comment as Pippa struts past, flaunting her stunning black and white ensemble. Her sleek black dress with intricate white patterns accentuates her long legs, and her choice of black stiletto heels and a chic black clutch adds to her sophisticated look. With her hair styled in a sleek updo, smoky eye makeup, and a bold red lip, Pippa commands attention wherever she goes.

Willow, sensing my curiosity, mutters, "Maybe it's because in politics she can get away with anything, even fucking people."

I give Willow a side-eye, shaking my head. "I don't think it's just about that," I reply.

Willow smirks, handing me her glass. "She's been fucking around with what is mine, so trust me, there's some truth to it," she says, chuckling.

My eyes widen in surprise as I take a moment to process the revelation. "Hmm," I utter, trying to compose myself.

"You seem surprised," Willow observes.

I stumble over my words, unsure of how to respond. "I...uh...I think I need to step away for a moment," I finally manage to say.

Willow laughs and takes her drink back. "Don't worry," she reassures me, "I won't tell anyone she slept with you, too."

I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. "You seem to know a lot," I say, a hint of scepticism in my voice. "What's going on with your husband? And why do you think I'll be getting a call?"

Willow leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Let's just say I have my ways of finding things out. Just like you do," she says cryptically, giving me a small wink. This woman always seems to be a step ahead of everything, even though she's considered the quiet one that's overlooked. "I know about you, Harry."

I nod slowly, a mix of apprehension and intrigue swirling inside me. "Alright," I reply cautiously, "Not sure what that entails."

"Mhm," she hums with a small wink.

If she knows what I think she knows, I might be fucked. Then again, if she knows, why is she so calm?

As I walk away, I notice Pippa approaching, her eyes filled with a mischievous glint, but I pay her no mind. She tries to capture my attention, but I continue to ignore her. She's going to do everything to destroy Anna and to seduce anyone with some sort of power. She seemingly thinks I have power and she wants it.

Finally, I spot Anna sitting by the catwalk, her presence a calming balm amidst the chaos. I make my way towards her, my steps heavy with the weight of our recent argument and the information she found out last night.

"Anna," I say, my voice tinged with regret. "May I?"

She looks up at me and offers a soft smile, nodding her head. I take a seat beside her, my gaze fixed on her face. "Still mad?"

Anna shrugs, "I'm tired, Harry," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tired of the secrets."

"I know, Anna." ... "I have some dirt on Pippa that'll make you feel better."

A small smile graces her lips, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "It better be juicy," Anna chuckles.

I reach out, gently placing my hand on her shoulder, leaning closer. "Wanna sneak away?"

Her smile widens, and she leans into my touch, "No, I'm trying to figure out which model you slept with," Anna whispers with a grin, her eyes flicking towards me before flicking back towards the runway.

"I'm not releasing names."

"That's not fair," Anna says.

I lean back in my chair, my gaze fixed on the parade of models gliding down the runway. Among them, the fourth one caught my attention. Her eyes lock with mine, and in that split second, I can sense a flicker of recognition. Anna looks at me and grins as I place my head in my hands. Anna nudges me, an indication she knows which model I slept with, adding an unexpected twist to the fashion show.

Anna playfully nudges me and raises an eyebrow. "So, Harry, are you and the model still friends?" she asks, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Yes, we are," I reply, a hint of amusement in my voice. "We had a fun fling, then we dated for a minute. We decided to remain friends and keep things light when we parted."

Anna raises an eyebrow and smirks. "So, spill the tea, Harry. How good of friends are we talking here?" she asks, a playful tone in her voice.

I pause for a moment, contemplating my response. "Well, Anna," I begin, "We catch up occasionally, grab a coffee, that sort of thing." ... "I'm joking," I assure her, "I'd appreciate it if we stopped the questions though—"

Just as I'm about to continue, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. "Hold on," I say, excusing myself from the seat. I quickly answer the call, making my way out of the floor seats, trying not to disturb too many people as I navigate through the crowd.

I weave my way through the throng of people, determined to find a quiet sanctuary to take the call from Prince Louis. "Excuse me, excuse me," I murmur, gently nudging past the crowd, my eyes scanning the surroundings for a secluded spot. Finally, I spot a door slightly ajar, leading to a serene room. I slip inside, closing the door behind me, and answer the phone call, grateful for the moment of solitude amidst the chaos.

My heart skips a beat as Louis urgently says, "I need you now."

"What's going on?" I ask, my voice filled with worry.

"It's Alaric," Louis responds, his tone urgent. "He's about to play poker in an hour."

My mind races, trying to understand the situation. "Why do you need me for that?" I question a mix of confusion and concern in my voice. "This isn't my line of work."

"We are in another country, playing Poker in an underground and secluded area. What about this sounds good?"

"Louis..." I begin, running my hands through my hair with a heavy sigh. "He wasn't meant to go for a few more hours."

"Well, he decided to leave early for his royal meeting."

I know exactly where this is leading. I'm intelligent enough to be aware that I need to intervene, but I'm also intelligent enough to know that I need more details before I jump. This wasn't the original plan.

"Political tensions, secret deals, or even a high-stakes bet that could jeopardize diplomatic relations is a situation that calls for caution and careful monitoring." ... "Something that's in your pay grade."

"You want me to fly out and sit in on a poker game because you're not man enough to handle it?" I heavily sigh, "I'll fly to Belgium, but this better be worth it." I warn him. He can't know I already had plans to fly out after the show.

"Not like you have anything else better to do."

"Goodbye, Louis," I say, hanging up the phone and slipping it into my pocket. As I look up, I see Willow and Matthew entering the room, their presence catching me off guard.

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity bubbling up inside me. "What brings you two here?" I ask, my voice laced with intrigue.

Willow chuckles softly, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "I told you that you'd receive a call," she says, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

My curiosity intensifies, and I press further, "So, this has something to do with that call, doesn't it?" Willow nods, her expression confirming my suspicions.

A mix of frustration and amusement washes over me, and I can't help but tease, "Do you all just conspire to ruin my day, or is it just a happy coincidence?"

"A happy coincidence," Matthew replies with a grin.

"Can I come? I love poker." Willow questions with a devilish grin. For someone who should be concerned that her husband is playing poker in an underground area in a different country, she's very cheery and grinning.

"Willow, this one's just for Matthew and me," I shake my head, narrowing my eyes down on her, watching her expressions.

Willow pouts, feigning disappointment. "Aw, come on!" she says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, the same one Anna gets when she wants her way. Matthew and I exchange knowing glances before simultaneously shaking our heads. "Nice try, Willow, but we can't risk it," I say.

"Risk what, exactly?" Willow questions.

"Putting you in a compromised position," I instantly respond, unsure of why she is fixated on attending. I don't know if she's busting my balls or if she's genuinely wanting to attend. Either way, I don't need her assistance— I wasn't supposed to have anyone's assistance, it was supposed to just be me. Damnit

***

The plane ride was cold, short but still cold, and the drive had become longer than I expected for the time frame I was on.

I'm navigating the dark back roads of Belgium at night. The air is chilly, and a thick fog hangs in the air, making visibility a challenge. The road twists and turns, taking me through hilly areas that seem to disappear into the mist. It's a thrilling and slightly eerie experience. I heavily sigh and look at the navigation, noticing I'm still twenty minutes out from the destination. Part of me wants to turn back around, hop on a plane and go back home.

"Why were you called to Belgium?" Anna asks on her end of the phone. "Or is it privileged information?" She's snarky with her final question— she's well aware I don't divulge information when I don't know the extent of what I'm walking into— I also don't divulge once I'm done.

"I can't discuss it with you, sweetheart."

"Fair enough," Anna responds, "I don't have anything to talk about, I just wanted to let you know I'm back at the Palace."

"You say it with such enthusiasm," I chuckle.

"It's like being a caged bird," Anna responds. "Always on a tight lockdown."

"It's for your own good," I remind her.

"Mhm, will you let me know when you're on your way home?"

"Yes, I will," I agree, "It might be a while, so don't wait up," I inform her, aware that this will take an hour or even five. I'm not sure what I'm walking into.

"I'm about to arrive, I have to go, Anna," I politely end our call, not wanting to be distracted as I pull in. I don't know what I'm about to drive into— it could be a minor poker game— it could be a lion's den, I don't know.

I park the car next to Matthew, his figure already standing by his car with his arms crossed and waiting on me. I step out of the vehicle, grabbing my pistol from under my seat.

Matthew makes his way to me, eyeing me up and down without speaking. He hands me another pistol and I place it in my waistband.

I huff as Matthew walks around me, making sure none of my weapons are showing. "And if they pet me down? We have no plan."

I don't like flying by the seat of my pants. I like to have precise planning and thorough execution.

"They won't," he responds, handing me my sling, "you're suddenly crippled again, nobody suspects a cripple."

"I would." I point out.

Nobody is ever off my radar, no matter what their health may appear. Trust nobody is the golden rule of suspects, and always be vigilant.

"You have an uncanny ability to navigate all sorts of situations. It's poker, let's hope it stays that way" ... "Does Anna know where you are?" Matthew softly questions.

I nod my head, "She knows I'm in Belgium, that's all. More than she needs to know."

Matthew hands me a stack of cash, shoving it into my jacket pocket with force, "Easy my shoulder is still tender."

"Ought to get it looked at again."

"Ought to do a lot of things," I mutter unhappily. Ought to find a new job but here I am.

As we make our way down the dark and chilly gravel path, a shiver runs down my spine. The darkness envelops us, adding an air of mystery and anticipation to our night. The cold air bites at our skin, making us pull our coats tighter around us. The dimly lit path casts eerie shadows, and the silence is only broken by the crunching of gravel beneath our feet. It feels as if we're venturing into the unknown, into a world where secrets and high-stakes games await us.

The men give Matthew and me a thorough look-over, their eyes filled with curiosity and suspicion. The atmosphere grows tense as we exchange glances.

As we enter, I can't help but notice the dimly lit room, adorned with only a small bar tucked in the corner and a grand poker table at the centre. The air is thick with the scent of fine cigars and the lingering aroma of expensive liquor. It's a scene straight out of a classic movie, with Louis enjoying his cigar and the King savouring his drink with an air of nonchalance.

What nobody else in this room is aware of, is the fact that I know the two men who are here with the diplomat. They're both on a classified blacklist for espionage. Both of them are very intelligent and fell down a rabbit hole a few years ago— I can only imagine they fell under the wing of this diplomat to continue weaving in and out of countries with political power backing them. They are likely the ones leaking information to the diplomat, forcing his power to increase. For the moment, I don't care for what political power they have granted the diplomat, what I care about is what Alaric is doing in a room with them. Anything said in this room with those two men, will be used against all of us in some way— if we make it out alive.

The blue-eyed man walks closer to me with a glass in his hand and a cigar hanging from his mouth. As the drink is offered to me, I feel a twinge of discomfort. I politely decline, putting on a small smile. "Thanks, but I can't drink." I lie. "Recovering alcoholic."

My mother would smack me if she could hear me lie about such a thing. My uncle is a recovering Alcoholic. I know better than to make jokes about it, but for right now, I needed a good reason as to why I couldn't accept the drink. I don't like to drink under these sorts of circumstances. I'm not sure this will stay just a poker game.

"The cigars are great," Louis smiles, "You love cigars."

As Louis gestures towards the cart of cigars, he leans over and hands me one. Annoyed, I mutter under my breath, "Do you ever shut up?" Reluctantly, I take the cigar and light it, trying to hide my frustration. The rich aroma fills the air, with a hint of vanilla and bourbon. I can tell these cigars are expensive. A little too expensive. I lean closer to Louis, "Watch what you say, they're like parrots," I inform him subtly, my eyes looking towards the two black-listed men. Louis gives me an odd look before nodding his head, shrugging me off.

I take a long drag from the cigar, and I savour the taste of the smoke on my tongue. It's been a few days since I've indulged in one, and I can't help but enjoy this forbidden pleasure. Blowing out the smoke, I sigh heavily, aware that this night is going to turn to shit. Once I finish my cigar, the games of poker begin.

"So, what happens if your daughter decides to abolish the monarchy? Rumour has it that's her plan. Where does that leave the rest of us?" The dignitary questions, causing me to raise a brow.

The King sighs and shakes his head, "She can't abolish, even if she wants to."

My interest is piqued.

"How is that possible? Anyone can abolish once reigning."

Alaric again shakes his head, "The kingdom has a long-standing tradition that states the monarch cannot be abolished unless the queen gives birth to a legitimate heir," Alaric explains nonchalantly, something he hasn't told Anna. Something I wasn't aware of was being held to the current monarch.

Fuck

Louis's eyes grow wide, "You're upholding the tradition?" Louis interjects.

"The tradition is upheld by a powerful ancient prophecy that foretells the downfall of the kingdom if the bloodline of the ruling family is severed." The king replies.

"What does it matter? The monarch would be abolished so a downfall would be evident." Louis continues, asking questions I'm not allowed to ask myself.

"She can't abolish, Louis, leave it alone," Alaric mutters, not wanting to continue the conversation, ensuring the dignitary that Anna won't be abolishing. He doesn't want her to abolish it. Nobody does. Louis shakes his head disappointingly before folding his cards. Louis eyes me, and I subtly shake my head, allowing him to drop the conversation at hand.

I stand here, observing the intense poker game, but I'm not in the mood to join in. I have a better advantage watching the men than I do playing Poker. It's a game of strategy, and I prefer to always stay one step ahead.

As I keep a close eye on the diplomat, I can't help but notice his disinterest in playing for money. The way he casually lights up the expensive cigars and sips on the finest liquor tells me that he's not here to win big. It is clear that his true motive is not just the game, but his interest lies in Anna herself. It's like he's playing a different kind of game, one that involves intrigue and personal connections.

Suddenly, my phone starts ringing, breaking the silence and drawing everyone's attention towards me. I quickly decline the call, feeling a bit flustered, and slip my phone back into my pocket. However, it rings again, and I bite my lip, realizing that all eyes are still on me. With a sigh, I excuse myself from the men and step outside into the chilly air to answer the call. "Yes, Anna?" I respond, my irritation evident in my voice.

"Never mind, I'll handle it," Anna murmurs, noticing my tone of voice. I don't like turning my back to this underground world, but I'll put her above all else.

"Are you okay?" I instantly ask.

"Yes, I'm sorry I know you're busy."

"If you need me, darling, I'll hop on a plane and be there in a heartbeat. Just let me know what's going on."

If I hop on a plane right now in the middle of this monstrosity, it better be for a good reason.

Anna grows quiet for a moment before confidently responding, "No. I'll handle it."

"Okay, if you're fine, I need to go."

"Wait," Anna's voice on the other end of the line stops me and I heavily sigh.

"Yes?"

"I have a bad feeling about you being there."

"I can't base events off your feelings, Anna."

Anna grows withdrawn for a moment, "You're right, I am sorry for calling."

"Hey," I lower my tone of voice, "Call if you need me, okay? I will be home soon." I turn on my heel and politely end the call, not wanting or needing to leave Matthew and Louis by themselves.

I walk back into the room, noticing the King appearing frazzled.

"Harry, hand me that ring," Alaric instructs, eyeing me expectantly. Confusion washes over me as I glance down at my hand, unsure of which ring he's referring to. "The one you're wearing," he mutters, tossing his watch onto the poker table with a hint of desperation.

I shake my head, a mix of disbelief and frustration bubbling up inside me. "I can't believe it's come to this," I mutter under my breath. The tension in the room rises as one of the men chimes in, demanding my participation or departure. Feeling a surge of determination, I settle down beside Louis, pulling out a stack of cash and tossing it onto the table. "Consider that my buy-in, and his debt paid," I say firmly, locking eyes with the man in front of me. There is no way I am throwing my gold band onto the table for the King's misfortune and stupidity.

I watch the poker round play out, my heart sinking as I lose my hand. There goes my paycheck. But it's not just the loss that captures my attention. My eyes are drawn to the other men at the table, their expressions filled with a mix of secrecy and determination. It's as if they have a plan, a hidden agenda that they're not revealing yet. I can sense it in the way they exchange glances, the subtle gestures that pass between them—, a feeling of unease settling in. I can't help but wonder what they're up to, what they're plotting against the king. If they were here for information, they'd be talking more. They weren't here just to ask about Anna taking the throne. There's something bigger at play here. The diplomat has been around Anna many times before— he plays on the corrupt side of politics and the two parrots, well, I already know enough about them. I've crossed paths with them before, in Spain to be precise. I don't think they remember me, thankfully.

The tension in the room reaches its peak as the king places a hefty bet on the poker table. The other man, fueled by confidence or perhaps something more sinister, goes all in. My heart skips a beat as I realize what's at stake.

"Bet your kingdom and your daughter," the diplomat declares, his voice laced with determination. The room falls into a stunned silence as the weight of his words sinks in. I exchange a worried glance with Matthew, knowing that the outcome of this high-stakes game could change our lives forever.

Anna's power and influence as a queen would extend beyond just her own country. Other political leaders want to gain control over her to leverage her position and use it to their advantage on the international stage. It's like having a powerful chess piece that can shape alliances, negotiate treaties, and sway global politics. She is more powerful than she is aware.

"Sir," the man beside the diplomat nudges him, "Too far," he murmurs, stepping out of line. Blue eyes does have somewhat of a conscience. Interesting.

The king, with a hint of hesitation, glances at me unsure of his own decision.

"You're forgetting I'm still in the game," I comment, a mischievous grin playing on my lips. With a subtle flick of my wrist, I reveal the cards in my hand, ready to play the final hand. Matthew, Louis and the other two men folded last round.

"I'm not worried about you, one armed with a button missing from your jacket, you have no money." Bold assumption that I have no money.

I raise a brow, "I would be if I were you."

"And why is that? You're just a little fish playing in a pond you don't belong in."

"I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you," I reply, my voice dripping with confidence.

"This has nothing to do with you, you have no power."

I hum, sitting back in my chair. If only he knew the leverage I do have over everyone in this room. The room holds its breath, the tension thick in the air, as we await Alaric's next move. All of this over power.

If the king were to bet his kingdom and daughter, it would be a gamble of epic proportions. The other diplomat would be driven by a thirst for power and control, as winning the game would grant them dominion over the entire kingdom and the future Queen. It's a tantalizing prospect for anyone hungry for authority and influence. The outcome of this high-stakes game could shape the destiny of not just the kingdom, but also the lives of those entangled in its web. And I'm somehow caught in this fucking web— but I can't blow my cover.

"All in."

"You're betting your kingdom and Anna?" I glare at the King, my voice filled with concern. This high-stakes bet could jeopardize diplomatic relations and everything we hold dear. "No intricacies? No plan?" I question, hoping for some reassurance.

"Harry, sh," the King huffs, clearly feeling the weight of the situation.

But Louis, always the voice of reason, interrupts, "Sir, you can't bet without stipulations, listen to him."

Curiosity burning within me, I press further, "What happens if he wins?" I ask the diplomat, bartering for the King.

The man chuckles, leaning on the table, his confidence unwavering, "He won't win."

My determination grows, and I challenge him, "What if I win? What do I get?"

"What does the little fish want?" ... "You're getting on my nerves."

Likewise, asshole.

"If I win, I want a significant political alliance or a trade agreement that benefits the kingdom," I graciously smile, aware he's underestimating the cards in my hand.

If I secure a trade agreement that brings economic prosperity to the kingdom, such as a lucrative partnership with a foreign nation for the exchange of goods or resources. This could boost the kingdom's economy, create job opportunities, and enhance its standing in the global market. Also known as saving the King's ass. If I lose, he takes my whole heart.

The diplomat shakes his head. "Okay," I sigh, I knew there was no way he would go for my offer, "If I win, I want a political alliance and for the King to be cleared of any wrongdoing, his slate is wiped clean. Anna is off the table... If I lose, you take the king."

"You're betting on me?" The King interruptes with wide eyes, aware these men will likely kill him.

I shrug my shoulders, "You bet Anna," I mutter, kicking him under the table in an attempt for him to shut up. "We are now involved in a covert agreement. If the King wins, which we all doubt, the negotiations between the king and you will ensure that the transfer of power is done discreetly." I begin to explain. Without a covert agreement, they might devise a plan to manipulate the political landscape or orchestrate a series of events that would ultimately result in the other diplomat taking control of the kingdom without the people realizing the true nature of the bet. It would require careful manoeuvring, deception, and the ability to wield power behind the scenes.

The fate of the kingdom and its unsuspecting citizens would hang in the balance.

"Why do you care," the diplomat asks, "I just want the Kingdom and the future Queen."

"I may be a little fish in this grand pond, but remember, you're betting for my wife." I reveal to the table, "Show me your hand." I demand.

The diplomat, feeling quite cocky, wears a smug grin on his face as he slowly turns over his cards. With a flourish, he reveals a magnificent straight flush - a hand that seems to scream victory— in most cases. The other players around the table gasp, their eyes widening at the sight of an impressive hand. They think he has won a kingdom and my wife. I rub my shoulder, signalling for Matthew to be prepared for what's next.

The diplomat leans back in his chair, a cocky grin still plastered on his face, as he asks, "What do you have?"

The king confidently shows his hand, revealing his four-of-a-kind, and I, able to contain my expressions, silently turn my cards over, revealing a royal flush. The room falls silent as the diplomat's confidence crumbles, his smugness replaced with disbelief. My victory is undeniable, and the diplomat's ego takes a humbling blow. I warned him not to underestimate me.

My eyes narrow with a glint of intensity as I lock my gaze on the diplomat, a silent warning that reverberates with my dominance and power. The room grows tense as the realization dawns on everyone present that the diplomat had dared to bet for my heart, Anna. Nobody knew until a few moments ago. The element of surprise never fails.

The air crackles with an unspoken understanding that crossing my boundaries will not be tolerated. The diplomat's confidence wavers under my unwavering glare. I stand to my feet, leaning onto the table and grabbing the king's watch, sliding it to him. "Don't you ever demand anything of my wife or attempt to bet her in a game of poker." I look towards the diplomat. "I don't give a fuck about the ties between you and the King, I don't give a fuck about royal or political protocol or your catfight with the King. Don't you ever use Anastasia as a playing chip," I growl towards the diplomat, releasing the anger I've been holding in since I was told to sit down and play at the table.

The diplomat smirks, his arrogance undeterred by my outburst. "You think you can intimidate me? You're just a lowly commoner who lucked into marrying a princess," he sneers. "But let me make something clear to you, mate. I have connections and power that you can't even fathom. So, back off before you find yourself in a world of trouble. Anna maybe your wife, but she's still a pawn in this game." His words hang in the air, a thinly veiled threat meant to overpower me and assert his dominance."I'll do what I fucking want, you don't scare me. She is owed to me."

My heart pounds in my chest as I gather my courage, my eyes flicking towards Matthew and Louis. With a determined grip, I swiftly retrieve my pistol from its hidden spot within my sling. The cold metal feels reassuring in my hand as I raise it, my aim steady and unwavering, directly at the diplomat. I can see the shock and fear in his widened eyes, his men scrambling to react, but they're too slow. Matthew and Louis have already taken control, their guns trained on them. The room becomes a tense battleground, the air thick with anticipation and the balance of power shifting in our favour. The diplomat's voice trembles as he begs for his life, realizing the gravity of the situation.

"Not such a little fish, huh?" I question. Maybe the diplomat saw an opportunity to expand their influence and gain more power but he chose a battle with the wrong person. "You two," I gesture towards the other two men. The men stare at me blankly, unable to utter words as they swallow hard. You'd think as two men who are blacklisted and highly intelligent, they would have at least carried a weapon of some sort for defence. You can't always rely on your own intelligence to defend you. "I know blue eyes over there has a little girl, and another on the way, and blondie just got married, so I'll be nice and take you somewhere a little nicer than this shithole. You'll both come with me." I mutter. "YOU" I gesture back to the diplomat.

"You placed a bet on the wrong man's wife."

My final words before I pull the trigger.