You are being provided with a book chapter by chapter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chapter. After reading the chapter, 1. shorten the chapter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any important nouns in the chapter. 3. Do not translate the original language. 4. Keep the same style as the original chapter, keep it consistent throughout the chapter. Your reply must comply with all four requirements, or it’s invalid.
I will provide the chapter now.

1
BRIDGET
“SPANK ME! MASTER, SPANK ME!”
I stifled a laugh at my bodyguard Booth’s face as Leather the par-
rot squawked in his cage. The parrot’s name said all you needed to
know about its previous owner’s sex life, and while some found him
amusing, Booth did not. He hated birds. He said they reminded him
of giant flying rats.
“One day, he and Leather are going to get into it.” Emma, the di-
rector of Wags & Whiskers, clucked her tongue. “Poor Booth.”
I held back another laugh even as I felt a small pang in my heart.
“Probably not. Booth’s leaving soon.”
I tried not to think about it. Booth had been with me for four
years, but he was leaving for paternity leave next week and staying
in Eldorra after to be closer to his wife and newborn. I was happy for
him, but I would miss him. He was not only my bodyguard but a
friend, and I could only hope his replacement and I had the same
rapport.
“Ah, yes, I forgot.” Emma’s face softened. She was in her early
sixties, with short, gray-streaked hair and warm brown eyes. “Lots
of changes for you in a short time, my dear.”
She knew how much I hated goodbyes.
I’d been volunteering at Wags & Whiskers, a local pet rescue
shelter, since my sophomore year of college, and Emma had become
a close friend and mentor. Unfortunately, she, too, was leaving.
She’d still be in Hazelburg, but she was retiring as the shelter direc-
tor, which meant I would no longer see her every week.
“One of them doesn’t have to happen,” I said, only half-joking.
“You could stay.”
She shook her head. “I’ve run the shelter for almost a decade, and
it’s time for new blood. Someone who can clean the cages without her
back and hips acting up.”
“That’s what volunteers are for.” I gestured toward myself. I was
belaboring the point, but I couldn’t help it. Between Emma, Booth,
and my impending graduation from Thayer University, where I was
majoring in international relations—as expected of a princess—I had
enough goodbyes to last me for the next five years.
“You are a sweetheart. Don’t tell the others, but…” She lowered
her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re my favorite volunteer.
It’s rare to find someone of your stature who does charity because
she wants to, not because she’s putting on a show for the cameras.”
My cheeks tinted pink at the compliment. “It’s my pleasure. I
adore animals.” I took after my mother in that regard. It was one of
the few pieces of her I had left.
In another life, I would’ve been a veterinarian, but in this life?
My path had been laid out for me since before I was born.
“You would make a great queen.” Emma stepped aside to allow a
staff member with a wriggling puppy in his arms to pass. “Truly.”
I laughed at the thought. “Thank you, but I have no interest in
being queen. Even if I did, the chances of me wearing the crown are
slim.”
As the princess of Eldorra, a small European kingdom, I came
closer to ruling than most people. My parents died when I was a kid
—my mother at childbirth, my father in a car accident a few years
later—so I was second in line to the throne. My brother Nikolai, who
was four years my senior, had been training to take over for our
grandfather King Edvard since he was old enough to walk. Once
Nikolai had children, I would be bumped further down the line of
succession, something I had zero complaints about. I wanted to be
queen as much as I wanted to bathe in a vat of acid.
Emma frowned in disappointment. “Ah, well, the sentiment is
the same.”
“Emma!” one of the other staff members called out. “We’ve got a
situation with the cats.”
She sighed. “It’s always the cats,” she muttered. “Anyway, I
wanted to tell you about my retirement before you heard it from
anyone else. I’ll still be here until the end of next week, so I’ll see you
on Tuesday.”
“Sounds good.” I hugged her goodbye and watched her rush off
to deal with a literal catfight, the pang in my chest growing.
I was glad Emma hadn’t told me about her retirement until the
end of my shift, or it would’ve been in my head the whole time.
“Are you ready, Your Highness?” Booth asked, clearly eager to
get away from Leather.
“Yes. Let’s go.”
“Yes, let’s go!” Leather squawked as we exited. “Spank me!”
My laugh finally broke free at Booth’s grimace. “I’ll miss you,
and so will Leather.” I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets to pro-
tect them against the sharp autumn chill. “Tell me about the new
bodyguard. What’s he like?”
The leaves crunched beneath my boots as we walked toward my
off-campus house, which was only fifteen minutes away. I adored
fall and everything that came with it—the cozy clothes, the riot of
earthy colors on the trees, the hint of cinnamon and smoke in the air.
In Athenberg, I wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without
getting mobbed, but that was the great thing about Thayer. Its stu-
dent population boasted so many royals and celebrity offspring, a
princess was no big deal. I could live my life like a relatively normal
college girl.
“I don’t know much about the new guard,” Booth admitted.
“He’s a contractor.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
The Crown sometimes hired private security contractors to serve
alongside the Royal Guard, but it was rare. In my twenty-one years,
I’d never had a bodyguard who was a contractor.
“He’s supposed to be the best,” Booth said, mistaking my sur-
prise for wariness. “Ex-Navy SEAL, top-notch recommendations, ex-
perience guarding high-profile personalities. He’s his company’s
most sought-after professional.”
“Hmm.” An American guard. Interesting. “I do hope we get along.”
When two people were around each other twenty-four-seven,
compatibility mattered. A lot. I knew people who hadn’t meshed
with their security details, and those arrangements never lasted
long.
“I’m sure you will. You’re easy to get along with, Your
Highness.”
“You’re only saying that because I’m your boss.”
Booth grinned. “Technically, the Director of the Royal Guard is
my boss.”
I wagged a playful finger at him. “Backtalking already? I’m
disappointed.”
He laughed. Despite his insistence on calling me Your Highness,
we’d settled into a casual camaraderie over the years that I appreci-
ated. Excessive formality exhausted me.
We chatted about Booth’s impending fatherhood and move back
to Eldorra for the rest of our walk. He was near bursting with pride
over his unborn child, and I couldn’t help a small stab of envy. I was
nowhere near ready for marriage and kids, but I wanted what Booth
and his wife had.
Love. Passion. Choice. Things no amount of money could buy.
A sardonic smile touched my lips. No doubt I’d sound like an un-
grateful brat to anyone who could hear my thoughts. I could get any
material thing I desired with a snap of my fingers, and I was whin-
ing about love.
But people were people, no matter their title, and some desires
were universal. Unfortunately, the ability to fulfill them was not.
Maybe I would fall in love with a prince who’d sweep me off my
feet, but I doubted it. Most likely, I’d end up in a boring, socially ac-
ceptable marriage with a boring, socially acceptable man who only
had sex missionary style and vacationed in the same two places
every year.
I pushed the depressing thought aside. I had a long way to go be-
fore I even thought about marriage, and I’d cross that bridge when I
got there.
My house came into sight, and my eyes latched onto the unfamil-
iar black BMW idling in the driveway. I assumed it belonged to my
new bodyguard.
“He’s early.” Booth raised a surprised brow. “He’s not supposed
to arrive until five.”
“Punctuality is a good sign, I suppose.” Though half an hour ear-
ly might be overkill.
The car door opened, and a large black boot planted itself on the
driveway. A second later, the biggest man I’d ever seen in real life
unfolded himself from the front seat, and my mouth turned bone
dry.
Holy. Hotness.
My new bodyguard had to be at least six foot four, maybe even
six-five, with solid, sculpted muscle packed onto every inch of his
powerful frame. Longish black hair grazed his collar and fell over
one gunmetal-gray eye, and his legs were so long he ate up the dis-
tance between us in three strides.
For someone so large, he moved with surprising stealth. If I
hadn’t been looking at him, I wouldn’t have noticed him approach at
all.
He stopped in front of me, and I swore my body tilted forward a
centimeter, unable to resist his gravitational pull. I was also strangely
tempted to run my hand through his thick dark locks. Most veterans
kept their hair military-style short even after leaving the service, but
clearly, he wasn’t one of them.
“Rhys Larsen.” His deep, gravelly voice rolled over me like a vel-
vety caress. Now that he was closer, I spotted a thin scar slashing
through his left eyebrow, adding a hint of menace to his dark good
looks. Stubble darkened his jaw, and a hint of a tattoo peeked out
from both sleeves of his shirt.
He was the opposite of the preppy, clean-shaven types I usually
went for, but that didn’t stop a swarm of butterflies from taking
flight in my stomach.
I was so flustered by their appearance I forgot to respond until
Booth let out a small cough.
“I’m Bridget. It’s nice to meet you.” I hoped neither man noticed
the flush creeping over my cheeks.
I omitted the Princess title on purpose. It seemed too pretentious
for casual, one-on-one settings.
I did, however, notice Rhys didn’t address me as Your Highness
the way Booth did. I didn’t mind—I’d been trying to get Booth to
call me by my first name for years—but it was another sign my new
guard would be nothing like my old one.
“You have to move.”
I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your house.” Rhys tilted his head toward my spacious but cozy
two-bedroom abode. “It’s a security nightmare. I don’t know who
signed off on the location, but you have to move.”
The butterflies screeched to a halt.
We’d met less than two minutes ago, and he was already order-
ing me around like he was the boss. Who does he think he is? “I’ve
lived here for two years. I’ve never had an issue.”
“It only takes one time.”
“I’m not moving.” I punctuated my words with a sharpness I
rarely used, but Rhys’s condescending tone grated on my nerves.
Any attraction I’d felt toward him crumbled into ash, dying the
quickest death in my history with the opposite sex.
Not that it would’ve gone anywhere. He was, after all, my body-
guard, but it would’ve been nice to have eye candy without wanting
to drop-kick him into the next century.
Men. They always ruined it by opening their mouths.
“You’re the security expert,” I added coolly. “Figure it out.”
Rhys glowered at me beneath thick, dark brows. I couldn’t re-
member the last time anyone had glowered at me.
“Yes, Your Highness.” His inflection on the last two words made a
mockery of the title, and the embers of indignation in my stomach
stoked brighter.
I opened my mouth to respond—with what, I wasn’t sure, be-
cause he hadn’t been outright hostile—but Booth cut in before I said
something I would regret.
“Why don’t we go inside? It looks like it’s about to rain,” he said
quickly.
Rhys and I looked up. The clear blue sky winked back at us.
Booth cleared his throat. “You never know. Rain showers come
out of nowhere,” he muttered. “After you, Your Highness.”
We entered the house in silence.
I shrugged off my coat and hung it on the brass tree by the door
before making another stab at civility. “Would you like something to
drink?”
Irritation still stabbed at me, but I hated confrontation, and I
didn’t want my relationship with my new bodyguard to start on
such a sour note.
“No.” Rhys scanned the living room, which I’d decorated in
shades of jade green and cream. A housekeeper came by twice a
month to deep clean, but I kept the place tidy myself for the most
part.
“Why don’t we get to know each other?” Booth said in a jovial,
too-loud voice. “Er, I mean you and Rhys, Your Highness. We can
talk needs, expectations, schedules…”
“Excellent idea.” I mustered a strained smile and gestured Rhys
toward the couch. “Please. Sit.”
For the next forty-five minutes, we ran through logistics for the
transition. Booth would remain my bodyguard until Monday, but
Rhys would shadow him until then so he could get a feel for how
things worked.
“This is all fine.” Rhys closed the file containing a detailed break-
down of my class and weekly schedules, upcoming public events,
and expected travel. “Let me be frank, Princess Bridget. You are not
my first, nor will you be the last, royal I’ve guarded. I’ve worked
with Harper Security for five years, and I’ve never had a client
harmed while under my protection. Do you want to know why?”
“Let me guess. Your dazzling charm stunned the would-be at-
tackers into complacency,” I said.
Booth choked out a laugh, which he quickly turned into a cough.
Rhys’s mouth didn’t so much as twitch. Of course it didn’t. My
joke wasn’t Comedy Central worthy, but I imagined finding a water-
fall in the Sahara would be easier than finding a drop of humor in
that big, infuriatingly sculpted body.
“The reason is twofold,” Rhys said calmly, as if I hadn’t spoken at
all. “One, I do not become involved in my clients’ personal lives. I
am here to safeguard you from physical harm. That is all. I am not
here to be your friend, confidant, or anything else. This ensures my
judgment remains uncompromised. Two, my clients understand the
way things must work if they are to remain safe.”
“And how is that?” My polite smile carried a warning he either
didn’t notice or ignored.
“They do what I say, when I say it for anything security-related.”
Rhys’s gray eyes locked onto mine. It was like staring at an unyield-
ing steel wall. “Understand, Your Highness?”
Forget love and passion. What I wanted most was to slap the ar-
rogant expression off his face and knee him in the family jewels
while I was at it.
I pressed the pads of my fingers into my thighs and forced myself
to count to three before I responded.