breaking the tension between them. “Relax, Prescott. I swear, neither you nor Monteque have any idea how to have fun. The good admiral dogged my footsteps for most of the night before he was—hallelujah—called away.”
Admiral Harrison Monteque was the unofficial leader of the four-man Royal Elite Team. And Pierce knew Harrison was about as trusting of Broderick as he was. “Adding guests that were never run by my team is hardly what I’d describe as having fun. Yet that’s what you did, isn’t it?”
Broderick shrugged. “So, I was having a bit of fun at the family’s expense. Everyone loves a party, Prescott. What’s a few dozen people more or less?”
“It’s a few dozen people who haven’t been run through security,” Pierce said flatly. “There is no excuse for putting any member of the Penwycks at risk, yet you did just that.”
Broderick sighed heavily. “All right. All right. Relax. Everyone is safe and my…friends have nearly all departed.”
There was little Pierce could do about it without tipping his hand, and Broderick knew that. “How are things going in the private quarters? Anyone suspicious?” If Meredith had noticed anything amiss, he probably would have known by now. She was nothing if not excruciatingly honest.
He wished he were the kind of man who could be just as candid. Who could be worthy of a woman like her. But he wasn’t.
He hadn’t been for ten long years.
“Not even the Queen herself when I slipped into her bed last night has shown suspicion.”
Pierce’s stomach twisted, and his hands curled into fists. “You gave your word you would not—”
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