Page 2 of Protecting his Secrets

Brett frowned at him but nodded. “Take it easy.”

“See you,” Felix said.

Nick headed through the double doors, away from the conversation room, as Prince Douglas called it, and back into the foyer. He stopped by the front desk and placed his thumb on the sensor.

“Heading home?” Clarice asked. Clarice was the one person who kept Club Royal running as well as it did. She was the one person who could keep anyone out without remorse, and if anyone crossed her, they were done for. She was also the nicest person when it came to the royal family and their staff.

“Yeah. I need sleep,” he lied with a smile.

Clarice chuckled. “I’ve heard about you and sleep, so yes, you better get home.”

Nick threw his hands in the air. “Does everyone know I’m grumpy when I don’t sleep enough?”

Clarice raised her eyebrows. “Yes. It’s an important piece of information.”

Nick laughed and waved. “Take care.”

“You, too.”

He headed down the lift to the parking garage beneath the club and slipped into his car. When the door slammed shut, he rested his head back and closed his eyes. His calf ached, as it often did when he’d been on it for too long. It never impeded his work because he could push the ache aside, but it was a niggle that would forever remind him of what happened.

Another reminder was the front page news the day after the event:

BODYGUARDS EFFED UP!

As if they weren’t grieving enough with the loss of their colleagues and friends, they had to have their faces rubbed in the fact that they hadn’t protected the king as they should have. Yes,he’d survived, but it was a close call. One Nick promised to never allow to happen again.

Exhaling a huff of air, he started his car and headed home, which was a modest one-bedroom apartment close to Windsor Hospital. His home fit him perfectly, designed with shades of nature—greens, browns, beiges and the occasional blue—to soothe his down-to-earth personality. Though he was an air sign, Aquarius—yes, he knew his zodiac sign thanks to his sister’s influence—his mind called more to the earth signs, and he’d honoured his need to think outside a box someone tried to put him in. Just because someone said he should be a certain way, doesn’t mean another way wouldn’t suit him better. He had his parents to thank for that way of thinking. They’d hated being put into boxes by their parents and had made sure they didn’t expect the same from their kids.

He parked the car, entered the building and took the lift to the fourth floor. When the doors opened, he grinned and shook his head.

“Rye, what are you doing?” he asked his brother, who sat on the floor in front of his door.

Rye glanced at him and stood. “Finally! Where were you?”

“Out. What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Do I have to announce myself every time I want to come and see you?” Rye asked.

Nick raised his eyebrows and leaned against the wall, making no move to enter his home until his little brother answered some questions. “No, but I would’ve been here quicker had I known. Now answer my question.”

Rye deflated and crossed his arms over his chest, his black hair falling across his forehead as he stared at the floor. “My date went badly. I left after the starter.”

Nick’s heart broke for him. Rye was an amazing guy, who kept putting himself out there to find that special someone, butevery woman he chose was only after sex and every man was an asshole, to put it not so nicely. One day, he’d find the man or woman for him, but Nick wished it was sooner. He deserved it.

Nick unlocked his door and let his brother in first, locking the door behind them. He threw his keys on the table by the door and kicked off his shoes, placing them in the shoe cupboard. “Do you want a drink?”

“Whiskey?”

“How about tea, coffee or hot chocolate?”

Rye was old enough to drink, but Nick didn’t encourage it. Too many people had been taken advantage of when they were drunk, their sister included, and so they had always tempered how much they drank whenever they went anywhere. Well, Nick did. He wasn’t sure if his brothers and sister did so anymore. But after Eliza had nearly become another statistic of rape, Nick made sure he was mostly firing on all cylinders while he was out with friends.

“Hot chocolate, please,” Rye answered. “Marshmallows?”

Nick smiled. “Of course.”

He set to work, making hot chocolate using chocolate powder and hot milk, plus an extra square of actual chocolate that, once melted, made it taste that much better, and then marshmallows sprinkled on top. Once it was ready, he joined Rye in the living room where he was curled up on the sofa with his head resting on his arms.

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