Page 1 of Protecting his Secrets

Chapter 1

Nick

Nick Tennant studied his surroundings, his brain instinctively mapping the area, the exit points and the people lounging within the area of Club Royal, the best-kept secret of the United Kingdom. Club Royal was a BDSM club owned by the royal family. Yes, the royal family owned, ran and attended a BDSM club. It was something that had shocked Nick when he’d first been told about it—after he’d signed an NDA when he’d begun to work for the Sutcliffes—but once he’d seen how it worked, who the Sutcliffes were behind closed doors, and how they cared for others, it was just another tick in the they were “amazing” column.

Not that the public would know about it. There were rumours, of course, but no one had ever corroborated those rumours. After all, who could take on the crown and expect to win? Keeping Club Royal a secret was essential, not only for the royal family but for the members who attended, too. It wasn’t all rich people who could afford an exclusive membership. It was for anyone who wanted to join and who would abide by the rules.

Laughter brought his attention back to his group of friends.

“I can’t believe you’re still telling that story, George,” Kieren said, pursing his lips. “Find new material, for god’s sake!”

Prince George held up his hands with a laugh. “It’s a good story. Only when it becomes a not good story will I stop using it.”

As a bodyguard to the king, Nick had expected to be ignored and brushed aside by the royal family when he’d first started working for them, but the warmth and camaraderie between the royals and their guards and staff were unexpected. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to sit amongst royals and guards alike while celebrating the birthday of a guard who had become a member of the royal family. Kieren had been Prince Patrick’s bodyguard for years, and then, almost two years ago, they fell in love. As with all relationships that involved the royal family, it wasn’t without its issues, and with the treasonous activities of other members of the royal family, it had made things harder, but everyone had got through it.

Well, not everyone.

The usual wave of tightening across his chest, reducing his ability to breathe fully, hit him with the memories of those who hadn’t made it through, not least of which were three guards he had worked closely with for many years: Selena, Jared and Simon. Fuck, Simon. Simon had been their boss, a role now taken by Dominic, and he had been the nicest guy on the planet. He hadn’t deserved to be shot and killed during an assassination attempt, but fate had other plans. Simon, Jared and Selena had lost their lives that day, and Landon, Viola and Nick had been injured. It had been a shitstorm from the moment they had left the event and one that stayed with them every day.

Breathing through the wave, Nick’s chest eased with each passing second, until he could inhale fully again. It was something he’d needed to learn during his physiotherapy appointments. Whenever his grief consumed him, he had to breathe, even when he hadn’t thought he could.

“You good?” Brett asked, leaning closer to be heard over the conversation.

Nick nodded and smiled the smile he knew people wanted to see. The happy joker of the pack. “You know me. Unless I’m tired, I’m good.”

Brett snorted. “Yeah, god help anyone who disturbs or stops you from sleeping. I have no idea how you will ever manage when you find a partner.”

“Drug them?” Brett glared at him, and Nick laughed and raised his hands, palms forward. “It was a joke!”

“Uh-huh. One in poor taste.”

Nick sighed dramatically. “Fine.” Those jokes right on the edge of crossing a line were ones that had got him into trouble before now, but they were also the ones that everyone loved him to make. And he was nothing if not a crowd-pleaser. “I can’t believe Kieren wouldn’t let me plan his party.” He huffed. He loved organising parties for people.

“I think after throwing out ideas for a ‘voyeur party,’ a ‘skinny dipping party,’ and a… what was it?” Brett tapped his chin, pretending to think.

“The porn party was an inspired idea,” Nick argued, shaking his finger in the air. Brett stared at him, the green and brown swirls changing depending on his mood, and Nick sighed. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

“And you are like a monkey on a leash,” Brett muttered. “Ready to cause havoc the moment you’re let loose.”

Nick threw his head back and laughed, the image of a Nick-shaped monkey traipsing around Windsor Castle something he couldn’t let go. “I need an illustration of that.”

“An illustration of what?” Felix asked from Brett’s other side.

“Me as a monkey,” Nick said, laughing again. “So much opportunity.”

Brett shook his head. “How did I ever agree to having you on my team?” he grumbled.

“Because I’m awesome.”

Nick’s gaze landed on the king and his partners, Kean and Kendal, as they stood, heading for the entrance they used to keep them away from the regular patrons. Although Nick wasn’t working that night—Colt and Landon were—he couldn’t help his need to ensure they were all right. As if he could do much about it if they weren’t. He shook his head.

There was still one aspect of that fateful day that plagued him, and probably always would. His brain understood that he’d been injured and, therefore, unable to assist as he usually would, but his heart couldn’t let go of the feeling of letting King Andrew down. He should’ve been able to do more, help more, save more people. But he didn’t. And that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

Swallowing down the nausea, he refocused on his friends. One by one, throughout the evening, they disappeared as couples, triads, or singles wanting to find someone, and Nick stayed right where he was. He wasn’t in the mood for company, so while Brett and Felix chatted beside him, Nick’s thoughts drifted to the one person who was never far from them—Malachi Sanders.

Malachi was a reporter—mainly written work, but he occasionally appeared on camera, too—and he was a thorn in Nick’s side. His comments about the royal family left a lot to be desired, and he found himself wanting to strangle him more than once. The media was a fickle business, enjoying the drama and downfall of people more than the building up of them, and Nick hated it. Seeing false headlines about his friends was something he would never get used to, but it came with the territory. How Andrew and the rest of the Sutcliffes ignored it was beyond him. If it had been his supposed truths plastered across the front pages, he doubted he would be so chilled about it.

“Hey, I’m heading out,” he said to Brett and Felix. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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