Royal Protocol

The man on the other end of the line said, “Bring Rayne Williams to the front door in twenty minutes. The door will open for one minute exactly and you will hand her over. If she’s not there when we open the door, we blow up the building. We’ve planted three bombs in the building.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_4bb5451e-fca8-5073-a3f9-dcf5299363fd)

“This makes no sense,” Craig said after Benedek had hung up the phone and explained everything to the men around him. “If they were going to let Rayne go, why didn’t they let her go with the others?”

“They aren’t planning on letting her go.” Benedek’s jaw clenched. “She’s to be their high-profile hostage. This way they, or at least their leaders, can get away after they blow up the opera.”

“With us in it?” Craig looked from one man to the other, wide-eyed.

The director of security nodded. “Your Highness must get out at any cost.”

“But we don’t have Rayne.” Craig wiped his sweating hands on the side of his designer tux.

“We’ll tell them that Miss Williams is unwell,” the director said, a speculative look coming into his eyes. “Play for time.”

“Why?” Craig looked between the two men. “If we tell them that she’s not here, maybe they won’t blow up the building. Without a hostage, the second they make a move, security forces will massacre them. The rebels won’t risk that. They won’t do anything if they don’t have her.”

“Their main goal is to end the monarchy. They have me trapped. Whatever happens, they’re not going to let me leave here.” Benedek lay down the somber facts. “You shouldn’t have stayed.”

A moment of silence passed as each man considered what might happen next.

“We need time to find a way to get Prince Benedek out of the building,” Benedek’s security guard said. “If we tell them that Miss Williams isn’t here, they might turn this into a suicide mission and blow up the building right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere, unless we all go,” Benedek stated flatly. “If we tell the rebels that Miss Williams is unwell, but will go out shortly, we might gain enough time to find the bombs and disarm them. It’s in their best interest to wait for her. They’ll want to wait.”

“Why is that?” Craig asked.

“They think my brothers will rush to my rescue and then they can get all the princes.” The absolutely maddening thing was that he knew his brothers would come. No amount of common sense, palace security, probably not even a royal order from the Queen would hold them back.

He had to solve this problem before that. He needed enough time to find and disarm the bombs with the help of their resident demolition expert, but not so much time that his brothers could come up with a plan and show up here. The difficulty was in the balance.

“Except, we can’t call the rebels back to negotiate. ” The call had come in as an unregistered number and could not be redialed.

He’d been hotheaded enough at the beginning, so outraged by the attack that he’d wanted to rush out to give a piece of his mind to the bastards. He’d now cooled enough to realize that risking his life was not the best course of action. For one, if anything happened to him, his brothers for sure would be over here in the next second, starting a civil war.

“Now what?” Craig asked.

“Now we spread out and comb the building for those bombs.” The director handed a headset to Benedek and one to Craig. Everyone else already had them.

With his bodyguard on his heels, Benedek took off toward the lower levels. Having worked on every detail of the renovations, he knew the building like he knew the names of all Valtrian kings back to the ninth century, the beginnings of the monarchy. First he went to the area that housed the furnaces and air conditioning. He checked under, behind, and on top of every piece of equipment.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

His bodyguard helped, too, making the process faster. They went to the prop room next. Then costumes, tension growing in his shoulders as he moved from one area to the next. He walked through the giant backup pantry that would be used by the five-star restaurant that would soon open inside the opera house.

He checked his watch before moving on. They had less than five minutes left.

“Couldn’t find anything,” someone checked in over the headset.

“No bomb here either,” another voice said.

Benedek’s cell phone rang.

“Your Highness. I got caught up in a tussle behind the opera house and lost my phone,” Morin, his secretary said. “I apologize for not being in touch sooner. I just got into the palace. Is there anything anyone can do from here?”

“Until further notice, your only job is to take care of Miss Williams.”

“Your Highness?”

Something in his tone sounded the alarm for Benedek. “She’s safe with you. Correct?”

“She didn’t come with me, Your Highness. She wasn’t let go with the other hostages? I just heard—forgive me, I just got in.”

Benedek’s blood ran cold at the thought of any harm coming to her. “She’s probably with the chief of palace security.”

“I just talked with him. He hasn’t seen her.”

His muscles tightened, his complete focus on the man on the other end. “Where did you see her last?”

“Just inside the back entrance.”

Benedek ended the call and spoke into his headset. “Rayne Williams is in the building. Start looking for her, keep looking for the bomb. I repeat, Rayne is in the building. Find her.”

NOBODY HAD COME for her.

Nearly two hours had passed since Morin had left. She’d listened at the door, waiting for him to call her name in the hallway, but he hadn’t. Nobody had. All noise had stopped, in fact, over an hour ago, as if all staff had cleared out.

She had tried to leave several times, but the ancient key had gotten stuck in the lock then broke right off when she’d tried to force it. She had shouted for help to the point of risking damage to her vocal cords, but nobody had answered.

And then, at last, she heard her name called.

“Rayne!”

She’d never been as glad to hear another sound in her life. She thought she recognized the voice. “Prince Benedek?”

The door handle rattled.

“It’s stuck.”

“Stand back,” he said.

The door burst open with a bang in the next second.

“Are you all right?” He stood in the threshold like some theatrical hero, in his impeccable tux and with blazing eyes. She noticed again how tall he was, the breadth of his shoulders, the incredible depth of his gaze. His was the kind of presence critics called “mesmerizing” in a performance.

He was years younger than her, for heaven’s sake.

She gathered herself and stomped out even the smallest spark of attraction. “Fine. Thank you.” She smoothed her hair into place and lifted her chin. She hated anyone seeing her shaken.