Free Enthrall Him (Enthrall Sessions Book 3) by Vanessa Fewings Page B

other problem?” asked Shay.
    “A private matter I’m dealing with.”
    I gave Cameron a glare.
    “Shouldn’t I know about this issue?” said Shay.
    “Hence the word private,” said Cameron.
    I glanced at the passing scenery. “It’s my problem too.”
    Cameron ignored me. “Shay, can you guarantee our safety?”
    “My men have protected presidents, so, yes, it’s doable. Why don’t you go stay in a cottage in Scotland until Richard’s gotten through Lance’s thick skull?”
    Cameron let out a deep sigh. “Mia wants to see London, don’t you?”
    I swapped a nervous glance with Shay. “Not if it puts you in danger.”
    “Let’s regroup at Chelsea Crescent,” said Cameron.
    Shay looked exasperated. “Do you have any aspirin in the house?”
    “Yes. I don’t want to see your men,” Cameron told him. “No fuss. No bother—”
    “I specialize in fantasies,” said Shay dryly.
    “Come on,” said Cameron. “I deserve some fun.”
    Shay slumped back. “There’s no denying that.” He turned and tapped the divider.
    The glass slid down, revealing the cap wearing driver. “Yes, sir?”
    “Westminster,” said Shay.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Thank you, Shay,” said Cameron. “I feel confident this is the best decision.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it.
    Cameron and Shay chatted away while I stared out the window.
    Not only were we now about to expose ourselves to any attack Lance might come up with, I also had to contend with being Cameron’s problem to solve.
    I pretended all this drama wasn’t getting to me, offering a polite smile when they shared a joke, or answering their question about what I was most looking forward to seeing in London.
    I made up some story and they both seemed happy with it.
    We parked outside a high end corner coffee house and Cameron ran in to buy four coffees, which included one for the driver, despite Shay insisting he wanted to go in for us.
    I was getting tired of all this running. All this intensity. All this being held at arm’s length. The only consolation was I got to spend more time with Cameron. Dragging out what little time we had left.
    He got back in the car and handed us each our piping hot drinks. We pulled away from the curb and drove onwards.
    Somewhere during that journey, I handed my cup to Cameron and snuggled into the corner and nodded off. Jet lag and this over the top adventure had gotten to me. That and the welcome warmth of the car.
    I stirred, woken by whispers.
    “Guess where you’re going?” said Shay.
    I rubbed my eyes and peered out at a double-decker bus beside us, full to the brim of tourists.
    “We’re going on a bus!” I said.
    “I think we can do better than that,” said Cameron.
    The bus pulled away, leaving our view clear, and there, rising majestically to our right, was Buckingham Palace. I remembered it from watching the royal wedding with Bailey and Tara.
    We’d made salmon and cucumber sandwiches that day and had been joined by Bailey’s English neighbor Gareth, who’d talked us through the entire event. From all our giggles and oohs and ahs, you would have thought it was us getting married.
    My gaze shot to Cameron and then Shay, trying to get a read on them.
    “Her Majesty’s not in,” said Shay.
    Cameron gave a nod. “Union Jack’s up.” And on my confused frown, he added, “The Union Jack is the British flag. It’s tradition to fly the Royal Standard when the Queen is in residence.”  
    “Are we going in there?” I said.
    “Turns out Aunt Rose has friends in high places,” he said.  
    “We’re going to Buckingham Palace?” I screeched it, wishing I could call Bailey and tell her. “Are we going on a tour?”
    “Public tours are only held in the summer,” said Cameron.
    “Does your aunt know the Queen?” I said.
    Cameron chuckled. “Doubt it.”
    Our car pulled up outside the large front iron gates. A few tourists turned to stare at us, probably expecting to see VIP’s stepping out. A