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Fuck.
“Iris,” he began, weighing his words carefully before he spoke. “It’s not easy for me to let people into my inner circle. The people I trust the most have been in my life for years, decades even. Allowing you in means making myself vulnerable and that’s never been easy for me to do.”
Her eyes were watchful and she opened and closed her mouth a few times—clearly picking her words—before, voice subdued, she said, “We haven’t even landed yet and you already have these doubts. That doesn’t bode well for us, Trystan.”
An icy chill settled in the pit of his stomach as he acknowledged her words with a regretful nod. “We’re adjusting. We’ll figure it out.”
“And what does figuring it out entail? You unjustifiably accusing me and mine every time something like this happens? Because that’ll get old very fast. I can’t be the scapegoat whenever you have some breach in security, Trystan. I won’t.”
“It won’t be like that, Iris.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I love you.”
“Not enough to trust me.”
Trystan wasn’t sure how to defend against that assertion when he’d literally just demonstrated that supposed lack of trust.
“It was a knee-jerk reaction and it was stupid. We’ve had breaches before, tips from eagle-eyed airport staff to the press. I should have taken that into account.”
“But I was right here and convenient.”
“Iris, please sit down,” he implored and tugged on her hand again. She resisted for a moment before relenting and sitting down. She remained tense and perched at the very edge of the seat, looking for all the world like she would bolt at the slightest provocation.
“We’re going to experience these—” He hunted for the correct words. “I suppose we could call them growing pains, yeah? That’s normal. And we may inadvertently hurt each other in the process but we have to believe that our relationship is strong enough to overcome these hurdles. I overreacted. It was a stupid mistake.”
“And what if it wasn’t a mistake?” she asked through stiff lips and he frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“What if one of my people did let it slip? What then?”
He didn’t hesitate before replying. “It would still be unfair to blame you for that, since you can’t control what they do. And they can’t possibly understand yet what damage a careless slip of the tongue can cause. This is as new to them as it is to you. And to me.”
“You wouldn’t blame them?”
“No. We can have a discussion with them about the need for privacy and discretion.”
Her back unbent a fraction.
“Forgive me?” he asked with an exaggerated pout designed to make her laugh, and her lips trembled in response. He doubled down on the sad face. “Please?”
“Oh my God, stop that,” she said, covering her face with both hands. “You look like Puss in Boots.”
Pleased that he’d managed to coax a smile from her, he took her hands in his and tugged them down to her lap, where he continued to hold them, stroking his thumbs over the soft skin of her palms. He kept his eyes on hers for a long moment, wanting her to recognize his sincerity.
“I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t do it again, okay?”
He lifted one of her hands and planted a kiss on the back of it, before tenderly cradling it to his cheek.
“I promise.”
In the end, their flight was rerouted to an airport in Luton. They were met by two big men—more of Sam Brand’s people—who’d been waiting for them next to a couple of black Mercedes-Benzes, one sedan and one Maybach SUV with heavily tinted windows.
Suddenly this felt all too real and Iris’s stomach flipped and twisted like she was on a roller-coaster ride as Chance went into ultra-serious bodyguard mode. The affable man from the flight disappeared completely, and he moved with menace and purpose as he expertly shepherded them through the airport and ushered them into the waiting SUV.
