Code Name: Tiara by Sawyer Bennett
CHAPTER 9
Jackson
If this isn’t about the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done, I don’t know what is. But here I am, walking into a hospital with a princess by my side, and not one person we pass has any clue.
Plans solidified quickly once I accepted Camille’s offer to use her plane. It was an incredibly generous offer, not just to get me here quicker but to give up a full day of plans she had in New York, including dinner with the deputy mayor. Kynan had no qualms with us diverting from the itinerary, if that’s what the princess wanted, as long as King Thomas approved.
We next had a conference call with Dmitri and the king. Dmitri was opposed to this deviation, but he’s not a spontaneous type of guy, so no surprise there. It was King Thomas, though, who made the final approval merely because it’s what Camille wanted.
Of course, we discussed security and felt this trip was low risk. We’d be heading straight from the private plane to the hospital, and I’d be handling sole duty for Camille’s protection while there. We decided to send Paul on to Miami to await our arrival, and Ladd arranged for some agents to be sent to my parents’ home to do a perimeter check since we’d be staying the night. They will stand outside duty for the duration of our stay. This was probably a waste of money given how off the grid we were going from Camille’s planned but private itinerary, but we had the time, and King Thomas had the money.
I’m tense as we traverse the halls to my father’s room. By the time we were on the plane just before takeoff, my mom updated me that they were going to place a stent to fix the issue, which was far less invasive than open-heart surgery. That at least knocked a level of worry from my shoulders.
We turn a corner, and I see my mother up ahead, waiting outside a room. I’d kept her updated via text on our progress to reach them, including when we pulled into the parking lot.
Despite being happy and relieved I’m here, and despite the fact she’s worried about my father, she can’t help but look first and foremost to Camille. My mom was shocked she’d be coming, incredibly touched by her offer, and then freaked out that a member of a royal family would be staying in the farmhouse. She was worried about fresh sheets in the guest room, to which I replied, “Don’t worry about that, Mom. Camille is going to sleep on the couch.”
She didn’t find that funny, but I still do and can’t help but grin as we approach her.
Mom’s eyes are pinned on Camille. I glance over to see her smiling at my mom in a way that conveys she’s sorry for her circumstances and also very glad to make her acquaintance. It’s completely genuine, and it’s the Camille I’ve started to know in a different way from just a week ago.
Camille has no hesitation. She strolls right up to my mom with her right hand out. My mom looks flustered, like she doesn’t know whether to curtsy, but I assured her that wasn’t a required formality, so she accepts Camille’s offer and their hands clasp. Camille covers the union with her other hand and squeezes. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Gale, and I’m so sorry for the circumstances that brought us here. If there’s anything at all I can do for you or your husband, please … do not hesitate to ask.”
Okay, that was a little over the top, a pat political greeting, but I let it slide because the awe in my mom’s expression is actually worth swallowing down that bullshit, which almost has me laughing again.
Though the words are born from her station and what is expected of a princess, Camille actually means it. If my mom were to say, “Well, dear… we’d like to have a private floor in this hospital,” Camille would probably figure out a way to make it happen.
Enough is enough, though, and I pull my mom into a hug, breaking their handshake and squeezing her tight. “You okay?” I murmur as her arms go around my waist. Despite her diminutive size, she’s able to make me gasp from the strength of her return hug.
She nods against me, then tips her head back. “I’m good. Your dad is going to be fine, and now I’m mad at myself for letting you come here.”
“It’s no trouble,” I mutter and give her another squeeze before letting her go. “I’m going to step in to see him, if that’s all right.”
“Go on in, honey,” my mom replies and then looks to Camille. “Want to go with me to the cafeteria for some coffee?”
Before Camille can answer, I nix the idea. “Sorry, Mom. She has to stay with me at all times.”
“But surely a trip to the cafeteria would be safe,” Camille urges. I can see she’s eager to take my mom somewhere to decompress for a bit.
“Dmitri would skin me, then your father would throw me under the guillotine,” I say with a grin while shaking my head.
“They would not,” Camille says with exaggerated offense, then looks downright sly. “Well, maybe Dmitri would.”
The expression on my mom’s face clouds with worry, and I reassure her. “Relax, Mom. We’re teasing. But Camille can’t be out of my sight. While we’re pretty confident no one would make a move on her here, I’m the only one protecting her here at the hospital.”
“I understand,” she says quickly. “I’ll go down by myself. I could use the walk.”
Reaching out, I take my mom’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Take your time.”
Camille and I watch her walk away, and when she rounds the corner, Camille says, “Your mother is lovely. You look just like her.”
“That’s what everyone says.” I then turn toward the open door of my dad’s room. We don’t have the easiest relationship, and although I’m happy he’s okay, I’m still dreading this meeting, especially with Camille at my side. I know he’ll be glad I’ve come to see him, but he won’t ever let me know that. In fact, I imagine he’ll bluster about me leaving my duties to do so.
I stop and turn back toward Camille, who is following. “My apologies if my dad says something that makes you uncomfortable.”
She tilts her head, eyebrows drawing inward. “Like what?”
“My dad likes to call out my shortcomings when he can,” I explain as best I can without giving her a three-hour discourse on our personal dysfunction.
Camille snorts, and says quite loudly, “Shortcomings. Where could you possibly fall short on anything?”
There’s no doubt her comment carried through my dad’s open door, but he probably didn’t hear it. I don’t care if he did. I agree with Camille. I’m confident and satisfied with my life and career, as well as the choices I’ve made. My dad saying otherwise doesn’t diminish how I feel about it. It’s just irritating.
“I’ll tell you all about it sometime,” I say, not really as a promise but merely to get us moving so I can get this over with. I’ve been assured he’s medically fine now, so this visit is really about supporting my mom. I want to pop in, let my dad know I’m here if he needs anything, and then pop back out. If I’m lucky, I can get my mom to come home where we can eat a late dinner together.
I walk first into my dad’s room and immediately note he’s awake, propped up in bed and watching TV.
SportsCenter.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, and his head rolls on the pillow to swing my way.
He smiles wanly and his voice is gruff. “Your mom said you were coming.”
“You had a heart attack,” I say in a teasing tone. “Of course I was going to come.”
“You were working,” he grumbles, hitching himself up in the bed and giving me a pointed look. He doesn’t mince words. “You shouldn’t have left your post.”
You mean, I shouldn’t have left the military.
I sigh, because it’s Dad’s backhanded way of reminding me he thinks I made a grievous mistake and screwed up my life.
“It’s not a post in the civilian world,” I tell my father, not holding back the bite in my voice. “Our company makes accommodations for family emergencies.”
“Of course it does,” he says. I know he’s not feeling too bad because his tone is snide, and I can tell he’s itching for a fight.
I deflect. I don’t feel like getting into it with him. I nod toward Camille who has come in behind me and stands politely at the door, hands clasped before her. “Dad… this is Princess Camille.”
My dad’s gaze moves to her, and he smiles and nods politely, then looks back to me. “The babysitting job, right?”
I blow out an exasperated breath, but before I can shut him down, Camille steps forward so his attention goes back to her.
“On the contrary, Mr. Gale, I’m not what one might equate to a child needing someone to watch over them.”
My dad flushes at being called out by not only an absolute stranger but one who is royalty.
Camille’s tone is kind, but you can tell she’s going to make a point when she asks, “Did you know that the FBI and Interpol have a congregated list of the world’s highest-value targets? It includes those who are wanted criminally, as well as those who are at risk to be targeted by criminals.”
“I… um…,” my dad stammers.
She continues on without giving him the opportunity to decide if he knew this fact or not. “Did you know that on the top ten list, I’m number three, right behind the world’s two most wanted terrorists?”
“Um …”
I watch amazed as she moves to the side of his bed and smiles down at him. “Our royal house only accepts the absolute best in the world to have the privilege of serving on my security team. Your son was picked to be the number one man to guard me. And just to be clear, we pay far more than babysitting wages.”
It’s with conscious effort that I close my jaw, which was threatening to fall all the way open, because Camille just point-blank lied to my father. There’s no such list, although Camille is right… her father pays far more than babysitting wages to keep her safe.
Still, I can’t help but be satisfied as my dad apologizes. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that, Your Highness.”
“Please, call me Camille,” she insists sweetly.
“Camille,” my father says with a nod. “I certainly didn’t mean any offense.”
Of course, he did. My father meant to offend me. He meant to poke at my life choices, but he didn’t expect to get poked back by a princess. His abrupt apology in the face of such impoliteness is actually his military experience coming back to him, as he was fairly high up and handled many a foreign dignitary.
“No offense taken,” Camille says, and then I’m stunned when she grabs the chair by the wall and drags it to my dad’s bedside. “Now, you must tell me all about your time in the navy. Jackson told me how you commanded a destroyer, and it sounds so exciting. Coming from a country that has no military, you simply must tell me all the details.”
My dad stares at her agog, and because I know him so well, I can see all over his face that he’s flattered by her attention but also fully aware he’s being handled in such a way that he has no choice but to go with the flow.
Camille glances at me and then nods pointedly at the other chair as if to say, Sit your butt down, Jackson, and let’s enjoy this visit.
I do as commanded by Her Royal Highness. I sit back and enjoy watching Camille handle my father for me.
I could fucking kiss her for this.
But I won’t.
For the next fifteen minutes, Camille and my dad chat like they’re old friends. My mom comes back in and I give her my chair. She shoots me a questioning look that says, “What the hell is going on?” I shrug in return.
We stay for another hour until my father yawns and my mom tries to shoo Camille and me out the door.
I look at her pointedly. “You’re coming with us. You need to eat and get some rest.”
“No, I couldn’t—”
“You can, Eliza,” my dad grumbles and then gives an exaggerated eye roll to Camille. “This woman is always taking care of other people. Make her go home and rest.”
To Camille, he orders this.
Not me.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, because he’s already figured something out—that Camille is no pushover. I can tell he respects her already.
It doesn’t take much, really. A few encouraging words from Camille and some stronger words from me. “Mom… either you walk out this door of your own accord, or I’ll pick you up and carry you out of here.”
That convinces her, and she bustles over to my father’s bed, making sure he has ice water and the remote control close by. She kisses him, and he pats her back, assuring her he’ll be fine for the rest of the night.
When Mom goes to the wardrobe to get her purse, Camille moves to Dad’s side and offers her hand. He shakes it.
“It was an honor meeting you, Mr. Gale.”
“Bill,” he insists. “I mean… since I can call you Camille and all.”
She laughs, and it’s one of those laughs that punches you in the gut. Filled with genuine humor, a little on the husky side, and an open honesty into who she is.
Christ, it makes her even sexier.
I lean over and pat my dad once on the side of his leg. “You good? Need anything?”
“Good,” he replies, and then does something that almost buckles my knees. He nods toward Camille. “I don’t think I understood what you do until today.”
I don’t reply, waiting to see where he’s going.
“I’m proud of you,” he mutters, and I can see he’s embarrassed to make that admission—truly a one-eighty—not because he doesn’t think I deserve it but because he’s doing it in front of Camille and my mom.
“Thanks, Pop,” I say lightly with another pat to his leg, not making a big deal about it so as not to embarrass him further.
I’m not sure if this really changes his outlook on me leaving the military. But Camille definitely set the record straight that I don’t just babysit people.
Mom makes more goodbyes, reconsiders staying, and I have to pull her from the room while Camille laughs at her antics. We walk my mom to her car and wait until she pulls out before we move across the parking lot to the rental we picked up at the airport.
“I can’t believe you’d lie like that,” I tease Camille. “A list of the highest-value targets?”
“Well,” she says with a laugh, “if there were a list, I’d be high up on it.”
“You know my dad will go tell all his retired navy buddies about this, and someone is going to tell him you were full of shit and he fell for it.”
“I won’t be around for the fallout,” she says slyly, and I laugh.
At the same time, I can’t help but feel a little unsettled at the reminder my time with Camille is defined and limited. In a few weeks, she won’t be around at all.