To Steal a Prince (9 page)

I pause. I don’t want to anger the bodyguard, especially when he has something over me. But if I tell Damon why I need to wait for Nic, I might as well reveal everything.

“What’s wrong? Do you not trust me to protect you?” Damon teases. “I’m just as scary as Nic if I don’t get enough coffee in the morning.”

“And have you gotten your caffeine fix today?”

“Not yet, luckily for you.” He holds out an arm. “Would you like an extended tour?”

I hesitate. His arm is tempting, but there’s something more important I need to ask.

“What is it?” He lowers his arm slowly, and I can tell he’s hurt by my rejection.

“Nic was telling me about security…”

Damon puts his hands in his pockets. “Then he should have told you that it’s perfectly safe within the palace walls. Guards, cameras, motion sensors. Nothing can hurt you here.”

“It’s not that.” I pause, wondering if there’s a way to ask this without losing any trust he has in me.

He looks at me expectantly.

“What did you do with the crown?”

Instead of bristling, he relaxes. “That’s all? I put in in my room.”

“Where?”

“On my bedside table.”

Ugh. I can’t leave him now. He really does need me.

“What is it?”

I try to remain calm. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Leave it in plain sight like that!”

He chuckles. “No one’s going to steal it. I trust everyone who has access to my room.”

“Which is exactly how someone could steal it.” I sigh. “Rule number one is that you can’t trust anyone. Haven’t you ever read Machiavelli? He would be perfect for you.”

“Of course I’ve read Machiavelli. But you can’t take him too seriously. It would be a lonely life if you never trusted anyone.”

“But you can’t.” The words come out a little angrier than I anticipated.

“Not even you?”

“Especially not me. But if you have to trust someone, it should be the person who’s honest enough to tell you that they’re not trustworthy.”

His mouth quirks at the corner. “I’m not sure if that’s crazy or brilliant.”

“It can be both. Now, let me help you keep it safe.”

“You?”

“I am a thief, you know.”

“I do. I saw you put the crown back.”

He might as well have punched me in the stomach. I feel like I can’t get any air into my lungs. Has he really caught me twice now?

I think I might throw up. “Wait … seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to see what you would do next.”

The shock waves of his confession still ripple through me as I try to gather myself.

A sly smile plays on his lips. “You said you would protect the crown. What do you propose?”

The relief I feel at his question is immeasurable. Nic has nothing on me now. Damon knows that I stole and returned the crown, and he’s not going to throw me out of the palace. Instead, he’s going to take me up on my offer. Turns out he’s smart
and
sexy, a dangerous combination. But I can’t think about that now. I have work to do.

“A shell game,” I say. “That’s the answer.”

“What’s that?”

I glance around, looking for eavesdroppers. No one’s near, but you can never be too careful. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

“Sure. I’ll take you to the crown.”

His hand on the small of my back, he leads me up the main spiral staircase. I feel a small thrill as I realize that he’s taking me to his room. The excitement dulls a bit when I wonder how many women have seen it before me. I try to brush that from my thoughts. I’m not sure if I can entirely trust Nic, but he told me the prince would miss me if I left. That’s what I need to hold onto.

“Do these stairs never end?” I try not to let on that I’m getting winded, but the winding steps are taking their toll. Outside, the height of the palace is striking. In here, it’s just exhausting.

“Tired?” Damon’s eyes shine. “Next time we’ll take the elevator.”

“There’s an elevator? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not as impressive. Besides, we’re almost there.”

“Almost there” feels like it takes about 2,000 steps, but we finally reach the third level.

“I’m in the South Wing.” The prince lightly steers me in the right direction.

The carpet is plush under my feet, a nice break from the marble stairs. We walk until we reach a door carved with a crowned lion.

“Here we are.” Damon swings the door wide.

The sight takes my breath away. I almost wonder if he’s shown me the wrong place. This whole thing can’t be a room.

Sunlight streams through wide-open windows. From up here, I can smell a hint of the far-off sea. One wall is covered with a mural of fighting lions, and another showcases a collection of swords in front of a ceiling-high shelf of leather books. And that’s not even the craziest thing.

“What do you think? Does it meet your standards?”

“There’s a river in here,” I say stupidly. In my defense, it’s true. It snakes around the room, a few bridges arching over it.

“There is.” Damon looks bemused. I guess he gets this reaction a lot. “It flows into my pool.”

Craning my neck, I take in the pool that hangs over the side of the palace. Its sides are made of glass, and the water seems to float in the air. No one could ever convince me to swim in that thing. It looks like a death trap.

I edge away from the pool, as if it could reach up and take me in its watery claws. Damon beckons me to follow him, and we walk over one of the bridges to his bed. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s a bed. It could be a landing strip for small jets.

“I believe you were saying something about a shell game?”

“Yes.” I clear my throat, trying to ignore the ostentatious display of wealth around me that my family couldn’t hope to attain if they worked for a million years. “Sorry, the shell game.” The crown sits on a nightstand beside a bottle of 1975 Petrus. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Though I’m tempted to take a swig of wine, I only take the crown. I also retrieve the fake from my bag.

“This one’s real.” I hold out his crown. “And this one’s fake.”

“With you so far.”

I switch them in my hands a few times. “Now which one’s real?”

“That’s easy.” He points.

“What about now?” Turning my back to him, I block his view. I make it look and sound like I’m moving a lot, but really I do nothing. I face him. “Now which is yours?”

He frowns, pondering. I can’t blame him. In this light, the gems are the same color. “That one.” He points again, this time to the other crown.

“Are you sure?”

His forehead wrinkles in frustration.

“Don’t worry. That’s the whole point. Only we are supposed to know which is which.”

“You still know, don’t you?”

“I always know.” Adrenaline tingles in my limbs. Even the prince can’t always tell these crowns apart. “Now, show me where you’d put the crown if you were trying to keep it safe. Be very public about it.”

“That would be the Jewel Room, I suppose. I was going to take it down there soon anyway. What do you mean by being public about it?”

“I don’t know…” I look around his room. “Do you have some kind of throw pillow we could carry it on?”

He plucks one of the approximately 10,000 pillows from his bed and hands it to me. It looks very regal, covered in crushed velvet. Stuffing one of the crowns into my bag, I set the other on the pillow. It looks very official.

Damon’s eyes narrow as he looks at the crown, then at me. “Let’s take the elevator this time.”

We stride to the silver elevator, the prince nodding at every servant we pass. They all gawk at the shining crown. I’m sure they see plenty of stunning accessories, but surely none this important. A bell dings softly as the elevator doors slip open for us. We step in, and Damon pushes a button for L1. It looks like there are nine levels to the palace: L3, L2, L1, floors one through five, and R.

“What’s on the lower levels?” I ask.

“I could tell you, but I’d have to set a lion on you.”

I don’t press him. I’m sure a royal family has plenty of secrets to keep.

The elevator sets us down softly, dinging again to let us know that we’ve arrived. The lights that run along the ceiling are harsh and clinical, discouraging the desire to linger. Damon turns down a sterile hallway that ends in a black door.

“This is as solid as they get.” He hits the door, his hand making a dull thud. “I’ve heard this thing could stop a rocket launcher. Father won’t let me test that claim, though. He’s no fun, as you must have already noticed.” The prince raises a finger to the digital pad beside the door.

I turn away politely, wondering how hard that lock would be to crack. Though I try, I can’t help but count the number of digits Damon enters. Nine. Waits for a beep. And then five. But what’s the point in breaking in when you’re friends with royalty?

There’s a loud clunk, and the door swings open.

“After you,” Damon says.

I step in, barely aware that Damon shuts the door behind us. Bright lights blaze as we enter, almost blinding me. My eyes slowly adjust to the sunburst of jewels sparkling on every surface.

There are rubies, emeralds, diamonds. Opals, amethysts, pearls. And those are the ones I can name. They throw rainbow reflections on the walls, and I grow dizzy as I try to take in everything at once. Rows upon rows of displays show turquoise rings and bracelets, earrings and necklaces. If I covered myself in new jewels every day, I still couldn’t wear them all in three lifetimes.

“We should probably keep moving,” Damon says. “This is just the first room.”

“You mean there’s more?”

He ushers me through two more rooms, and I try not to gape too long at the jewel-studded statues and lions made of hammered gold.

The last room has a door of steel.

“This is the vault. They say it’ll survive a nuclear blast, but I’ll believe it when I see it.” Damon punches in another code, and the door hisses open. The room contains nothing but a nondescript cabinet, like the designer got worn out from all the wealth in the earlier rooms.

“A bit anticlimactic, isn’t it?” Damon opens the double doors.

“Not anymore.”

Inside sit neat rows of crowns. The ones on the bottom are gathering dust, but the ones on top look recently polished.

“Those are the historic crowns.” Damon points to the dust-covered ones. “They should really be in a museum, but Father wouldn’t allow it. I thought the people should see at least one. That’s partly why I lent that one,” he nods at the one I carry on the pillow, “and we know how that turned out.”

I grimace.

“Can you guess which one’s mine?”

My eyes immediately lock on a crown with an alexandrite that looks like a reflection of the one I’m holding.

“That’s right.” He laughs. “Not much of a challenge, was it?” Reaching out, he touches one of the silver points. “The velvet cap is turquoise to match the stone in sunlight. My father wanted it trimmed with ermine, but I didn’t want to associate myself with a weasel.”

“Probably a good call.” I hold out the pillow. “So where would you put this crown?”

“Next to mine.”

I slide it carefully into place.

Damon stands still, admiring the crowns. “It’s good to see them together again.”

He looks very peaceful. It’s so nice to be near him right now.

“Thanks for helping me set this up.” He flashes me a smile that I can’t help but return. “I’m no good at security, as you may have already gathered.”

I wish I could return his thanks with a kiss, but there’s business to take care of. “Do you want to put a decoy in here?”

He shakes his head. “Only a few people can get into the vault. The family, Nic, and three servants who clean everything.”

“Can they all be trusted?”

“The king and queen own everything. Marc and I will inherit it. I trust Nic with my life, and the servants have worked years for this position. It pays well, and they wouldn’t risk it for anything. They hold each other accountable, and our cameras make sure they do.” Damon points to the corners of the ceiling, where I see tiny points drilled in the concrete for concealed pinhole cameras. I guess it’s good I didn’t kiss him.

Damon closes the cabinet. “What do we do with the fake?”

“Let’s go to my room.”

The prince doesn’t argue. We leave the vault, and the Jewel Room with its misleading name. I try not to drool over any of the gems on the way out. The thick steel door thunders closed behind us. We take the elevator to the ground floor.

I half expect Nic to jump out and yell at me, but there’s no sign of him among the sunny marble columns. He should have been back by now. He’s probably scouring the palace for me, getting more and more enraged.

“Damon!”

The shout rings across the hall, making my stomach churn. If only it were Nic who’d spotted us.

“Father? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” The king’s face is red, his eyes bulging.

Damon steps in front of me, as if trying to shield me from his father’s wrath. “What brings you downstairs so early?”

“A phone call. From that cursed museum you love so much. They wanted to apologize again for ‘the incident.’ I asked them to fill me in, since it seems that’s too much to ask of my firstborn son.”

“Everything’s fine,” Damon says. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”

“Everything’s not fine.” The king’s voice echoes off the pillars. “Someone stole our crown. They’re lucky they returned it, or I would have had my dogs chase them to the ends of the earth.”

I swallow hard. I hope that Nic takes what he knows to the grave. Otherwise, I think I might be asked to leave this hemisphere.

“It was never stolen,” Damon says. It’s clear he’s trying to calm his father, but every word from his mouth seems to enrage the man further. “The museum made a mistake. I retrieved my crown, and it’s safe now.”

“It’s not even yours until you find a wife. Maybe you should get serious, instead of slumming around with any girl who looks your way. You’re becoming an embarrassment to us.”

Damon doesn’t respond, though I wonder if he feels the sting of his father’s comments as piercingly as I do. Because he’s right. I don’t deserve Damon. I can help him protect the crown all I want, but in the end I’m just a thief.