Protecting the Crown: The Crown Series

By Violet Paige

My destiny is to wear a crown

His is to save my life.

I'm Galona's only princess.

With five brothers, there is barely room to breathe in the palace.

So I escape. Dazzle my way through Europe.

But the party comes to a halt when my life is threatened.

I have to go into hiding,

Only I wasn't prepared to be locked away with a man whose bedroom eyes make me quiver.

Royal Guardsmen aren't supposed to look like that.

Or talk dirty to me, either.

Who does he think he is using his filthy mouth on this princess?

Flynn Shaw isn't like other guardsman.

He'll do anything to keep me safe and shield my body from danger.

He's willing to prove his strength is more than skin-deep, even if it means breaking my heart.

I might be the princess

But he's the king in bed.

Together, we'll take on the crown and burn down all the rules.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Violet Paige
• Release date: Feb 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393425748

Book preview

1

Flynn

S tay down! I shouted, pressing my right shoulder into the bumper of the armored car. The smoke was too thick to see past my open palm. I reached forward, testing the visibility. I dug in my pocket for another smoke grenade, pulled the pin, and hurled it in front of the hood. I needed more cover than what I had. There was one smoke bomb left. I wanted to save it.

I had to make it to the driver’s side of the vehicle. The door was slung open, but there was still too much gunfire to climb behind the wheel.

Please. Victoria Hughes clung to me. Her polished nails, indenting my wrist. I-I can’t move. Her words were mumbled through giant gasps for air. I knew she was about to hyperventilate. I couldn’t let that happen. It would cost her her life.

It’s okay, ma’am. Stay behind me. I’ll get you in the car. Try to stay calm.

She shook her head no. I can’t. She started to cry. Her sobs became frantic.

You have to. I stared at her. It’s the only way out of here.

One giant tear fell after another. There wasn’t enough time for this.

If you don’t get in the car on your own, I will pick you up and sling you over my shoulder. My voice was loud and gruff. "Do you understand? We are leaving this location. Now."

I was trying to figure out how I’d pick her up without breaching the height of the car when she suddenly let go of my arm and nodded. I’ll follow you, Flynn.

Good.

My attention turned toward the next round of shots fired in our direction. Victoria screamed.

I can’t. She buried her head into the top of my back, viciously burrowing between my shoulder blades like an animal escaping underground. I can’t go. It’s too much. Make it stop, Flynn. Make it stop. She sobbed. I didn’t—I don’t—

I had run out of avenues to calm her. Fuck it. I had to get her in the car and get the hell off this street. I twisted my body, lowered my head, and lifted her onto my shoulder. At this point, she was crying and screaming too much to protest my next set of movements. I held her calf tightly, balancing her on the broadest part of the top of my shoulder.

With a quick flick of my finger, I released the pin and threw the smoke bomb over my shoulder. It was the only cover I could provide us.

Hold on, I urged. I shuffled forward as soon as the smoke was deployed. Victoria’s body draped over me like a huge bag of laundry. She never wiggled once.

I tugged on the door handle and lowered her onto the seat, pushing her to the floorboard. Stay down, and I’ll get us out of here.

I slammed the door behind me as I crawled in through the backseat. The gunfire picked up. They might not be able to see us, but the attackers knew exactly what I was about to do. I turned the keys, pushed the accelerator as I dragged the driver door closed. The front tire hit the curb, but I didn’t give a shit. We had made it out of the ambush.

Just hold on, I called over my shoulder. You’ll be back at the White House soon, ma’am.

I felt Victoria’s hand extend from the floor and clamp onto my elbow. She didn’t let go until we were in the underground parking garage, and another secret service agent escorted her out of the car. Her eyes followed mine as she was led away through one of the tunnels.

Agent Shaw, come with me. The crisp voice was in the opposite direction.

Yes, sir. I tossed the car keys to an agent and followed my team supervisor to his office.

Close the door, he directed. I let it swing shut behind me. Do you need to be checked out? I don’t see any blood. He glanced at me.

I was covered in ash and grime from the street. I’d lost my jacket somewhere at the site of the ambush. My white-collared shirt was mostly gray now.

I’m fine, sir. I stood with my back straight, my hands folded in front of my waist.

That’s good. He took a deep breath. First, I want to say thank you for protecting the First Lady. The outcome could have been different.

Of course, sir. I nodded. It’s my duty. My oath.

Right. I know all that shit, but I’m saying thank you. On behalf of the agency, thank you. We get threats every day. We clear scenes. But an active shooter? Shit. That’s a different story. What if the kids had been there?

The twins are at school, sir.

He nodded. They’ve been brought in. POTUS doesn’t want the family out of the house. Not until we have some answers. Could you sit? You’re making me nervous.

I’m fine, sir.

You keep saying that, but you barely survived a firefight in the street. I’d need a drink. Can I get you a drink? Anything?

I shook my head, reluctant to sit. I didn’t want the events to have a way to catch up to me. Not yet. I was still pumped full of adrenaline. Racing on the fuel that kicked in when I went into survival mode.

You’ve got to debrief, and then you can use one of the apartments here.

I know the protocol, I answered.

So you also know that you’ll be on administrative leave?

My jaw clenched. I don’t think that should be a policy, sir. You still need me. I can be of service.

Doesn’t do any good to debate it. Debrief, take a shower, get some rest. I’ll be around if you need anything. Stay here and don’t leave the compound, he instructed. This is going to be an international firestorm. You’re safest here. I’d hate for the press to catch a shot of you.

I didn’t want to be a part of the story in any way. That wasn’t my job. I was supposed to remain invisible at all times. The idea that I was now caged and locked up to hide my identity was fucked up.

I pushed on the arm handles to leave when Cooper’s desk phone rang. He raised his finger in the air to keep me a few seconds longer. I knew he’d be fielding calls through the night.

Yes, sir. He’s looking forward to seeing you, sir. Yes. Mmmhmm. Cooper hung up. He looked at me. That was POTUS. He’s coming down to speak to you.

Now?

He’s on his way.

The debrief? I questioned.

That can wait. He wants to thank you for saving his wife’s life. It’s the president. He eyed me, questioning my desire to leave.

I wasn’t comfortable with this. I didn’t want the attention. I never had.

Shaw, you ready for this?

If the president needs to see me, yes, sir, I lied.

He walked around from behind his desk and patted me on the back. Let’s see if we can get you in a clean shirt first, though. You look like you walked through a coal mine.

Of course, sir.

I almost didn’t hear the quiet knock on the door. It was after midnight. I had given up on falling asleep. The tap sounded again and laid my tablet on the bed and walked to the door. I didn’t bother putting on a shirt. The apartment the agency had assigned me was a studio-style with a kitchenette and small living area. I opened the door.

Mrs. Hughes? I didn’t expect to see the First Lady in my doorway.

Victoria, remember? She smiled weakly.

I exhaled. Are you okay? Is everything all right? I ducked my head into the hallway to see which agents had escorted her into this part of the compound. She was alone.

Can I come in? she asked.

My stomach seized into a knot the size of my fist. It’s late. Where’s your detail?

By the elevator, she explained.

Hmm. I didn’t like her answer. What can I do for you?

It’s just… Her hand landed on my forearm. I can’t sleep. And I…Flynn, I just…what happened today… her words drifted off as her eyes lifted to mine. I need to talk. To you. I need to talk to you about it.

I pushed the terrain of skin between my eyebrows. Fuck.

Ma’am, maybe we could talk tomorrow. It’s late. POTUS will be looking for you.

He’s had no trouble falling asleep. I heard the pain in her voice.

Or the twins, I tried to give her every viable excuse to step back from my doorway and return to her family.

"They’re five. They’ve been asleep since Frozen II ended. Please, Flynn. There’s no one in the residence I can talk to."

It wasn’t as if Victoria Hughes wasn’t a stunning woman. She was. She was put together the same way a lot of politicians’ wives in Washington were. Perfect hair. Perfect teeth for the perfect smile. And she had a body that everyone in the agency had noticed. Whether she was in a suit for a charity event or a cocktail dress for a fundraising dinner. Every agent saw how attractive she was. It was impossible not to notice her curves and perky tits. But she was FLOTUS. She was off limits.

I’m sorry, ma’am. I moved slightly to close the door. This was dangerous.

Damn it, she burst out in tears. Flynn, we could have died together today. Stop calling me ma’am. Stop it. She threw one punch on my bare chest and then another.

Hey, hey. I grabbed her by the wrists as she crumpled against me. You’re okay now. You’re safe. I’m sorry.

She looked up at me. Her blue eyes wide with pain and vulnerability. Don’t call me ma’am, she whispered.

I nodded. Okay.

Can I stay a little while? I don’t want to be alone right now.

I closed my eyes. Fuck. She was still aligned against me. I could feel her heart race.

A few minutes, I warned her. That’s all. We can talk about what happened.

She nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Thank you, Flynn. And the FLOTUS stepped into my apartment.

2

Flynn

Four Years Later

The sun was wicked on this side of the island. It beat mercilessly on the ocean, throwing reflections off the waves and the mountains. Mornings were the only time I could run without interruption. It was before the prince was awake and started his daily schedule. The cliffs near Freychon were an excellent place to keep up my regimen. The varying terrain meant my heart rate stayed elevated, and my cardio had never been better in all my years of training. I was in excellent condition. I made it a priority.

My phone buzzed as a rounded the last turn.

Shaw, I answered, breathing over the receiver, so there wasn’t an earful of panting.

Agent, I would like you to stop by the palace offices. It was Crenshaw, head of the royal security.

What’s this about? I asked.

I’m waiting for you in my office, he replied with no fanfare.

I need to take a shower, I argued. You caught me in the middle of training. I’m not on duty for another half hour.

Though I appreciate good hygiene, I need to see you now. The shower can wait, agent.

I checked my watch. Prince Donovan will be up in thirty minutes. I can’t swing that unless you were going to send in a babysitter for him. I thought about who the prince took home last night. It was likely he would stay in bed a while longer. She was his type. He’d want to keep her around at least through breakfast.

Crenshaw groaned. His Royal Highness will have a babysitter. I’ll post a replacement agent at his door before coffee is served. I’ll expect you in my office in the next five minutes. Please make sure you have on a tie before you walk through the palace doors. He hung up before I could excuse my way out of the meeting once more.

I growled at the phone. A fucking tie? Now? That was the problem with the royals and anyone who worked for them. There was always a set of formal rules and decorum that had to be followed, no matter the circumstance. A different level of protocol that I didn’t experience during my years in the States. Most of the time, it was complete bullshit and had nothing to do with the safety of the royal family. I’d learned to brush it off and play by their rules since I’d moved to the small country three years ago. Once I stepped over the palace threshold, I had to abide by the stricter traditions, or it would cost me my job.

I continued to job, grumbling how the runner’s high was replaced with agitation. The palace turrets came into view. I was still awed by the sight of them each morning. The grounds looked like something out of a movie.

I’d never make the five-minute deadline. I hurried to my suite and changed. Crenshaw would regret not having me take a shower first. The sweat soaked through the dress shirt in round wet splotches. I looped a tie over my neck and jogged to the elevator. I tied it on the way to his office, impressed that it was a perfect knot, even on the run.

The head officer was waiting for me with a full tea service when I arrived. He clamped the lid closed on the silver teapot.

Sir. I nodded.

His eyes fell to the sweaty circles seeping through the cotton. I shrugged. He had fair warning.

Sit. We have tea, Shaw.

I see.

It was another custom I didn’t care for much, but I rarely had to participate in it. I mostly watched Prince Donovan have tea with foreign dignitaries, or with his brothers. I sat across from my boss.

What can I do for you, Crenshaw? I picked up one of the scones on the tray.

There is a matter of security. National security that involves the royal family. You must have realized it was urgent.

I haven’t gotten anything on the prince’s schedule lately. What is it? Anything that involved Donovan went through me first. This was a interruption of protocol.

Crenshaw’s lips pinched together as he lifted the porcelain cup with hot tea. It’s not about the prince.

My eyebrows rose. It’s not? All right. What is it then? What’s going on?

It’s the princess. Princess Isabel, he answered.

Who has her detail now? I can’t keep it straight. I glared at him.

Crenshaw returned the cup to the saucer. You do, Agent Shaw.

I shook my head. Oh, no. I was only making a joke. I’m not going on princess duty. I have prince duty. The prince and only the prince.

Her Royal Highness’s life is in jeopardy. You are going to Spain to bring her back to the palace safely. She needs a top-notch security expert. You are the only one in the guard with the kind of experience that could get the princess through an emergency. I’m of course hoping it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, you’re the right agent for her.

I didn’t let his reference to my past change my expression. I never spoke about it. Crenshaw and I had exactly one conversation when I was hired about my time with the Secret Service, and since then, it had become an unspoken taboo discussion.

Look, everyone knows she’s the most difficult member of the family, even more difficult than the queen regent. It’s why she’s had at least ten agents that I know of. I stopped trying to keep track of who has her detail. What’s the point? I like this job, Crenshaw. I’ll stick with Donovan. He provides job security, and that’s something I enjoy. I’m not interested in losing this job.

You work for the royal guard. You protect the royal family. That assignment can change daily.

But it hasn’t, I corrected him. I’ve been with Prince Donovan since you brought me on. I’ve had the same principal for three years.

Maybe that was my mistake. I kept you with the same prince for too long. You should know all of them. The princess needs protection. A much higher level of protection.

I pushed back in my chair, loosening the tie. It’s not going to be from me. No way. I rose from the table.

I decide your assignments. You are going to Spain. You will bring Princess Isabel back here unharmed. You will secure her location here once you have returned.

I growled. If she’s so fierce, why doesn’t she bring herself back? No one will get close to her from what I’ve heard. She spits men out on a regular basis.

Crenshaw shot me a warning look. She’s a member of the royal family.

I’m sorry. I overstepped. I didn’t know the princess, but I didn’t have any interest in finding out if the rumors were true. I’d dealt with my share of hard to cover principals. However, insulting anyone who was a part of the royal family in front of my boss was never a good idea. I’d gotten carried away. Pissed off was more like it.

Regardless, you leave for Spain in a couple of hours.

And the prince? I asked.

He has been assigned a new agent. His Royal Highness will be under quality security as always. It is what the royal guard provides for the family.

Crenshaw handed me a leather-bound portfolio. Your travel arrangements are inside. You will have access to the royal jet. Of course, it’s a non-stop flight. He couldn’t bribe me or impress me with the perks of royal toys. I traveled with Donovan everywhere he went.

Are you sure no one else wanted to volunteer?

Crenshaw glared at me. Consider this an honor, not a punishment.

I chuckled. Maybe we can talk about that over tea when I return. I looked at the travel itinerary. It was detailed with every minute of my travel accounted for.

I look forward to it, Agent Shaw. Crenshaw bowed, a signal that I was dismissed from his office. I’ll pass on your willingness and cooperation to the king.

Don’t bother, I called over my shoulder on the way out. I might not have a job to come back to after Spain.

3

Isabel

Martinis are not supposed to taste like the glass has been dipped in the ocean and served with a salt block. What a horrid concept. Cold. Crisp Dry. That’s how I liked martinis. It’s also how I liked men. I stirred the olives in a slow circle, wondering what imbecile had made this salty nightmare.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder, shooting an angry look at the security agents watching me. In true Sauvage style, when I had asked a simple question, I had been given no response. When your brother is the king, it happens more than I’d care to admit. Why did I have twice as much security as I did two days ago? Could no one give me a straight answer? Something was going on. I was going to demand Damon tell me, but later. Tonight, I had to find something else to do.

I didn’t spiral.

I wasn’t a spiraler. I also wasn’t an idiot. I knew what my family thought about me—a top spun so fiercely I couldn’t unwind without falling over. I’d heard it before.

Oh, Isabel—she’s lost it.

Poor Isabel, she must be so lonely on her own.

Something is wrong with her if she doesn’t want to return to Galona.

It was hard enough to read the headlines printed about me. It was something else to know my brothers thought I was crazy. In their eyes, I had become a rogue princess.

I smiled. Maybe that title suited me better than any of them realized. How did I make the spinning top stop? The more important question—did I want to?

I grabbed my clutch from the velvet seat. The gold embossed envelope I had received this afternoon peeked out, making it impossible to close.

It was yet another invitation. Another wedding. Another bride. Another groom. Another royal.

This time the royal was my brother Liam. In less than twelve weeks he would marry Gillian Bradshaw, a popular American actress. She starred in a vampire show that apparently everyone in the family watched except me.

I hadn’t even met Gillian yet. She and Liam had been in the States wedding planning. I wasn’t sure who that made the worse sibling—Liam or me.

My two other sisters-in-law were about to give birth two months apart. The palace was about to be crawling with babies.

I knew Kenley didn’t mind that the queen’s birth would get top headlines. It was probably a relief to fly under the radar on this one. I wouldn’t want that kind of attention for something so intimate and personal, not that I could see myself having a baby.

I was proud that Dominic had turned his life around since his last stint in rehab. I often wondered if my royal family thought I should do the same? No, I wasn’t an addict unless shopping for shoes and jewelry counted. But I’d refused every invitation to return to Galona. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to defy Damon’s royal requests.

I stood, holding my clutch, so the invitation didn’t spill out.

The agents were immediately in front of me. Their bodies towered over my petite frame. I wore exceptionally high heels for this reason. I didn’t like feeling smaller.

Move, I hissed. I can’t even walk the way you interfere with every single thing I do.

Your Highness— one of them began before I cut him off.

No, I snapped. I don’t want to hear excuses. Just move.

I wanted out of the booth. I wanted a new drink and someone interesting to keep me company. The problem was no one was interesting enough lately. Men were too eager, and not in the way I needed them to be. I wanted to scream at them: be eager to love me, to understand me, to find something fascinating in how I see the world. What I had grown tired of was the men seeking a picture for their social media accounts, a dip into my fortune, and a pass straight to my bed. I wanted someone challenging and exciting. Intelligent and charming. Gorgeous and sexy. I was starting to believe men like that didn’t exist—they never had.

My life was one giant game of charades. I looked up with curiosity as another potential player came into view.

It was hard to tell in the dim bar light exactly the color of his eyes, but I guessed brown. His suit was expensive. He made sure I caught a glimpse of his cufflinks beneath his jacket sleeve. That was always a tell-tale sign. A man who wanted my attention already knew who I was.

He didn’t ask permission and sat next to me at the bar, sliding alongside me as if he had already been beckoned. He was bold. I liked that.

Good evening, princess. His grin was slight, barely exposing his teeth. His chin was firm, and he was clean-shaven. I tried to guess his age. He had to be under thirty.

Hello. I spotted the latest additions from the royal guard beginning to flank us. They were supposed to be undetectable, but these idiots made it known exactly what they were here to do.

I waved my hand in their direction. Leave us, please. I kept my tone steady. I didn’t want more interruptions.

Neither one of them budged. I didn’t want to make a scene, but I’d be damned if these two goons dictated how my night would play out.

Now, I hissed. Or you’ll be looking for a new employer in the morning.

I saw the look run between them. We’ll be nearby, Your Royal Highness.

I turned toward my guest without giving them another thought.

Sorry for the rude introduction. I extended my hand. Isabel.

He smiled. Must be part of the territory, I suppose. They are trying to keep you safe. His fingers brushed over my knuckles. I waited for the thrill, the sudden jolt of electricity to spark between us, but it wasn’t there.

Viktor, he purred too seductively. I must admit it took me a while to convince myself to walk over and say hello.

Why is that? It was a test.

It’s not every day I see a beautiful princess drinking alone in a bar. I thought it was worth risking the rejection.

I see. I pressed my lips together. The thing is Viktor, I’m never alone. Not really. This clueless man had no idea how lonely I was, though. Between my royal manager, stylists, and the guard, I was almost always surrounded. Being in a room with people, being followed and watched didn’t equal companionship. That wasn’t the type of conversation to strike up with a stranger.

I can’t imagine you would be. Someone with your position would be very busy. He tilted his head.

Hmm, I observed him. He had light brown hair. It seemed as if he could have an attractive body under that suit. What brings you to the hotel? I asked.

I’m here for a conference. A few days of R&R more like it, he joked. I never take these conferences too seriously. Although I do have a presentation in the morning. I can’t stay out too late. He winked.

What type of work are you in? I pressed for more details. Maybe he would surprise me with something fascinating. Something I hadn’t encountered before. Maybe beneath the average exterior was a brilliant man or an incredibly artistic man.

Management, he answered. Really, I study how to manage and the best ways to keep teams motivated. It’s a management style, I’d say.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I pinched my lips together to keep a frown from forming. I knew there wasn’t much more to discuss about work with that answer. Teams? Management style? God, he was more boring than my Latin tutor in secondary school.

Can I buy you a drink, princess? he offered. What’s your favorite cocktail?

"Are you from a royal bloodline, Viktor? I inquired.

He leaned back on the bar stool. No, I’m afraid not.

Then, no. You can’t buy me a drink. I’m sorry. It’s against royal protocol. I knew I sounded annoyed. It was the truth, however.

Even when you’re in Spain? That doesn’t seem fair.

Probably even more so because I’m here and not in Galona. In public like this, it could be seen as accepting a bribe from a citizen. A foreign citizen. You understand, I’m sure.

He looked at his fingertips, probably debating what his next move would be. His nails were trimmed and manicured. I wondered how much time Viktor spent grooming himself. He was very put together—almost to put together.

Princess?

Hmm?

Please don’t be offended by what I’m about to ask.

Of course not. Please go ahead. It always came down to this. The same response. What I was about to discover was whether Viktor fell into category A or category B.

I would never suggest something like this under any other circumstances. But since you have rules. And I’m dying to have a drink with you…

Yes?

It would be a shame not to get to know each other better. To continue this conversation. Spend some time talking.

A true shame.

"There is a full bar