Prologue: Munich

People are fragile things
You should know by now

For as long as she can remember, Eleanor's been taught to not share her true feelings with anyone who resided outside the palace walls.

"The people aren't supposed to feel bad for us darling. We feel bad for them. We are the royal family. We are here to make them happy!"

She recalls her mother, the queen, telling her in a falsely soothing voice, at age nine.

Eleanor did not have the security of going to Eton with her brothers, Liam and Robert. No, she was sent to a private school in London with Maribelle and Penelope, and she was mortified.

She's never been good at making friends. Her mother's instructions always echoed in the back of her mind. Liam had an infectious charisma that allowed him to fit in any crowd, and so did Robbie. Robbie had a mask for every kind of encounter and Eleanor envied him for it. James Hill had hit the nail right on the head- all of the 'friends' she did have were shit.

At school, Eleanor was teased mercilessly; she was scrawny, pale, and underdeveloped. Her schoolmates called her a royal runt behind her back, while being nice to her face- occasionally vying for her attention when a particular athlete or celebrity were scheduled to come to the palace.

Once, she thought she did become friends with a group of girls to the point where she felt comfortable enough to invite them over after school.

They stole jewellery and clothing when her guard was down, including her favourite pair of earrings that had been a gift from her grandmother. Because their fathers were Lords and high ranking government officials, it had to be swept under the rug. No official investigation was ever launched, and the items taken were never returned.

Only then did King Simon allow her to transfer schools.

At the age of thirteen, Eleanor Henstridge accepted that no matter how much she wished or prayed, she was never going to be like the other girls her age.

They thought that she didn't have real feelings because she was a princess. Whatever was taken, could be replaced.

Because she was a princess she cared too much. So few things in the royal palace were actually hers.

So, when she found out that Jasper and Samantha only wanted to steal something from her, it reopened an old wound, insecurities bleeding through once more.

Eleanor had to send Jasper away, because it was the only way she knew how to cope. A proven defence mechanism.

If there was anything she learned from her mother, it was that forcing someone away with a security order or a written cheque were the only two natural solutions.

Lately, her problems are complex. Her problems can't be just told to leave, and not come back by security, especially if they were the security. They can't be written out of her life by way of a personalised cheque because now, the problem doesn't want her money.

The problem now wanted her feelings. Feelings that no matter how much she tried to suffocate, wouldn't just go away.

It's been four months since Robbie's been found alive, and eight since the day at the stadium.

It's also been seven months, three weeks, and five days since she last saw him.

Not that she's been keeping track.

Eleanor's been coping with being the third wheel in her family once more the only way she knows how: drinking other people's alcohol, in other countries.

Tonight, she's in Munich, Germany. She's slowly been making her way across Europe, leaving a trail of empty bottles and full tabloids in her wake.

She thought maybe, just maybe, he might try and stalk her again.

But she's got a two man team travelling with her this time, so his efforts are no longer needed. And besides, he has never been one to defy a direct request from a teary-eyed princess.

Liam asked her once why she started drinking so much again. She denied it, and said she's not drinking any more than usual. Besides, she reminded him, at least she's not doing cocaine anymore.

But the truth is, that it's because every time she closes her eyes, she sees his.

She sees his crystal clear blue eyes shining with unshed emotion as she tells him to leave and not come back.

She hears the crack in his usually confident voice as he reluctantly agrees with her request.

She sees him turn, slowly, and leave her room, looking just as broken as she feels on the inside.

And it won't go away.

So she'll keep travelling until it does.

The bass is pounding loudly in her ears as Princess Eleanor Henstridge sways her hips in time with the music. She's invisible in the dark, and that's the way she likes it. She knows that Hassan and Colin are nearby, but she doesn't care. No one would dare to put their hands on her anyway. This isn't that kind of place.

She's seen this band in particular before; they've got a modest following back in England. She knows they're always a good time.

Eleanor stills when she opens her eyes; the adrenaline in her veins turns ice cold. Several feet ahead, there's familiar a tall, blonde head accompanying broad shoulders in a tight white t-shirt jumping in perfect sync with the crowd, facing the stage .

Eleanor recalls dragging him to one of these concerts before. The situation had been similar. A dark, sweaty concert venue. Eleanor had ordered him to stay behind her. He admitted on the drive back to the palace that he enjoyed the music, and that he actually had fun. It seemed less like a work obligation.

And more like a date, she added mentally. They were both thinking it, and neither wanted to voice it.

He fucked her good and hard that night with the same band's latest album playing loudly in the background.

Eleanor stumbles at the memory, almost falling headfirst into the crowd. Suddenly there's a pair of firm, strong, and familiar hands on her, pulling her back to her feet. She looks up to see Hassan, staring down at her with concern etched across his naturally tanned face. She nods to him, confirming that she's fine, and whispers in his ear that she wants to leave.

He waves to Colin, who's a few feet ahead of them. He's pushing back against the crowd in seconds, and at her other side. He wraps his arm around her, protectively; like an older brother would.

In many ways Colin and Hassan are her older brothers.

They don't see her as a sexualized plaything, or some demon, out to conquer the world, one vodka soda at a time. They're not there to dominate her, or steal from her. They respect her, and her choices. And get her soda water and tell everyone else that she's got alcohol, when she actually doesn't, because they know she's trying to keep up appearances, too.

Eleanor chances a look over her shoulder and sees him staring back at her, his jaw slack. Clearly, he hadn't expected to see her there, either. Once he realises that she has seen him, too, he snaps out of his trance.

And then he's pushing through the crowd, determination etched on his sweaty face. His shirt clings to his chest as he pushes people out of his way, ignoring their expletives and protests.

"ELEANOR!" He shouts over the music as she turns back. "WAIT!"

Her heart clenches in her chest.

Colin's hand tenses on her shoulder, because he hears him too. He doesn't know about her history with Jasper. Hassan leaves her side, and falls back to keep Jasper Frost away from her, as per protocol. There's a no contact order in place for the Princess, just like she's requested.

"LEN!"

She stops then.

He's never not called her Eleanor. Not to her face, anyway.

She looks up at Colin. "A former acquaintance. Tell Hassan to bring him to the car. He'll be coming back to the hotel with us."

Colin nods, indicating that he's heard her, and continues shuffling her toward the exit as he nods to Hassan, confirming that she wants him to escort the mystery man out with them.

She doesn't look back as Colin leads her through a back hallway to the underground parking garage where they've kept the car. Once he's sure they're alone, Colin fishes out a key fob and wordlessly unlocks the black Lexus, and opens the back door for her as the lifts open, and Jasper strolls out with Hassan hot on his heels.

She slides into the back, leaving the door ajar.

He gets in next to her, and slams it shut.

The scent of him hits her for the first time in months, and her breath hitches in her throat. Colin starts the car, and then they're off, a painfully awkward silence hanging in the air between them.

"What in the fuck are you doing in Munich?" She demands suddenly, turning to face him.

"What in the fuck am I doing here? Why in the fuck are you in Munich?" Jasper flinches at her sudden outburst but he's quick to retaliate. This clearly isn't how he expected a reunion with her to go. She herself isn't quite sure how a reunion with him ought to look like, but it definitely isn't an argument in the back of a car with her two new bodyguards sitting in the front seat.

"I'm a goddamn Princess, Jasper, I can go wherever the fuck I want." She fires back. "Like you don't know where I've been-"

"My life doesn't revolve around you Eleanor, contrary to popular belief," he cuts her off.

"Not anymore, it doesn't," she mutters to herself, before slumping back in her seat and stubbornly folds her arms across her chest. "This was- is- a mistake-"

"No," he says firmly, casting a quick look at the two in the front seat. "I've been here- in Germany- for two months."

"Why?" Eleanor asks, her tone surprisingly desperate and demanding. "Why are you still in Europe? Why don't you go home!"

Jasper doesn't have a chance to answer because they've arrived at the luxurious hotel she's been holed up in. Instead he climbs out of the car, and holds the door open. "The Princess knows where her room is, I'm sure," he clips to the other two.

"You don't work for Royal Security anymore, so you don't get to order them around. Even if you did, you would be of no higher rank than they are, so put a bloody sock in it," she snarls, but takes his offered hand as she gets out, making sure to dig her nails into his palm before releasing him.

Jasper raises his eyebrows to her, confidence etched across his face. He moves his body close to hers and runs his fingers along the waistband of her jeans to wrap his hand around her waist, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Eleanor turns to Hassan. Hassan's staring at her, mouth agape as he puts two and two together in his head.

He's heard the stories about Her Royal Highness' former bodyguard, and the turbulent relationship that she had with him. Other staff warned him about her because of it.

The Princess has been nothing but kind and professional with him since he's joined her detail to the point where he thought they were fucking with him.

"You two are done for the night. And you don't breathe one word about this-" she gestures to Jasper- "to anyone. Especially Liam, Robbie, and James. Do you understand me?"

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Your Highness," Hassan says evenly, locking his dark eyes with Jasper's, his expression narrowing slightly, his tone warning. He's just as protective of her, if not more, than Colin. She reminds him far too much of his sister, in both good and bad ways. "I'll be sure to to pass your message on to your brothers that you've decided to retire early this evening because you're not feeling well, and you're not to be disturbed. Let Colin or I know if you need anything, Princess."

"I will," she says sincerely, and turned around, and allowed Jasper to lead her into the hotel, and push her towards the lifts.

His fingers brush against her skin again. She wasn't sure if it was because she was already overheated from being in the crowded concert hall, or from the humid night air. Regardless, the rough pads of his fingers against her smooth skin are igniting the most inconvenient flesh memories within her, and it's going straight between her thighs, and painfully so at that. Her mind- and body- know exactly what those fingers are capable of. She shivers at the thought.

The lift doors open, and they step inside, and then they're alone. She leans forward and keys in an access code to her penthouse suite, and then he pulls her back.

Jasper can't keep his hands off of her, and for the first time in nearly a year, she doesn't protest. She's too tired, and he's too familiar.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open to reveal the modern entry way she shares with the other suite. Eleanor reaches into her bag, and pulls out her access card, and swipes it through the door, and pushes it open.

He follows her inside, and slams the door shut behind him.

"I want you. Right now. We can talk in the morning," he says before she can even open her mouth.

Her eyes widen slightly.

It's been nearly eight months since they last laid eyes on each other.

Over a year since they'd last been intimate.

And yet, she still feels that pull.

So she nods ever so slightly, and it's all the invitation he needs.

Jasper moves so fast she barely has time to register what's going on. His large, warm ands are sliding around her neck and tangling into her hair, pulling her head back as his lips attack her own Eleanor grips the front of his t-shirt as his teeth roughly pull at her bottom lip.

She knows exactly what he wants, and she smirks against his mouth as a result.

Jasper groans deep within his throat, and she's lost. His bedroom sounds are the most erotic thing she's ever heard. One of his hands untangle from her hair and roughly grabs her ass, pushing her up against his erection.

"You do this to me. Only you," his voice is husky and strained against her ear as he blatantly grinds himself into her. She can feel every goddamn inch of him against her and she's breathless when she pulls back to look at him.

His pupils are just as dilated as hers, and his eyes are just as hooded.

And then he smiles. That slow, gorgeous, smug, panty-dropping smile of his.

Now that she's looking at him in the light, she can see that his hair is shorter than how he usually wears it. It's unstyled and messy on the top, but cropped closely to the sides. He's got a few good days worth of stubble on his face, and despite the blatant arousal evident in his eyes, she can tell he's tired.

He's tired in the same sense that she is. It's something a little more than exhaustion, and affiliated with the unknown.

Eleanor soundlessly reaches up and winds her hand around his neck, pulling his mouth back down to hers, her lips parting on impact. His tongue immediately seeks hers out, and it's just as she remembers; hot, heavy, and aggressive. He tastes just the same; a hint of spearmint from the gum he's always chewing and something else that is entirely Jasper. Her other hand roughly palms him through his jeans, and he releases her.

She stumbles back, effectively breaking their kiss and he's lurching forward to wrap his arms around her waist and pulling her back to him.

"You're wearing too much, baby. Go take it off." He commands her gruffly.

"Why don't you?" She challenges, and then turns on her heel and marches off toward the bedroom.

Eleanor's barely reached the door when one of his arms darts out of nowhere, and tightly wraps around her middle while his free hand knots into her hair, exposing her neck to him. Jasper pushes the length of his body against the back of hers as his lips move her neck; nipping and licking in exactly the right spots.

A small, throaty moan escapes her lips as her fingers curl against the dark wooden door, her nails scratching it slightly as he roughly turns her over to face him.

She's breathless as she stares at him, her chest rising and falling in tandem with his own. Eleanor slowly moves her arm down the door and wraps her hand on the door handle, and pushes it down and easily moves inside the darkened room.

Jasper follows her in, and closes the door behind him, effectively shrouding them in near darkness. The curtains are drawn, but several small slivers of light are streaming through, illuminating a small path to the large king sized bed on the opposite side of the room.

Eleanor recalls her earlier musings about feeling more comfortable under the cover of darkness. But this is different because she knows that he can see her just fine.

She doesn't know much about his life in Las Vegas, and she briefly wonders if he was medically experimented on because he seems to have perfect night vision to compliment the way- silently, stealthily- he's slinking towards her right now.

Jasper stands inches away from her, and his fingers grasp the hem of her top. His eyes don't stray from hers as he lifts the cool, black silk over her head and sends it fluttering to the floor behind him.

"I miss you," he breathes against her neck as his hands rest on the bare skin of her waist. "I miss the feeling of being inside of you, Eleanor."

Her breath hitches because she misses it, too. But she'll be damned if she admits it out loud. Her fingers tighten on his shoulders. His lips brush across the tender skin behind her ear.

"I miss the way you look when you're sleeping. And the way you curl up beside me right before you wake up. I miss everything about you, Eleanor. Every. Goddamn. Thing."

"Shut up, Jasper," she says hoarsely, pushing on his chest with her fingertips. "You don't get to say those things to me. Not now. Not after everything that you've done. Not after all that's happened."

"Then let me come home and make it up to you."

"Shut up," she repeats tightly as she flattens her palms against his chest. She can feel the tears welling up behind her eyes as she pushes him away from her. "Shut up…"

Eleanor turns away and inhales deeply as she looks up toward the ceiling. She refuses to let him see her cry.

Because of him.

Because of their past.

Again.

Because she misses him, too. She misses seeing him slinking around the palace. Hearing his voice through Liam's door. The smell of him in her sheets. The innocence on his face while he sleeps. And it's the single most terrifying thing she's ever felt.

The second she lets him back in, she's sure that he's going to tear her down. She knows that she won't be able to handle it. Not this time. He's burned her too much.

Jasper Frost will be the one to break her, in every sense of the word.

His arm slowly wraps around her waist, holding her in place as his other hand holds tightly onto her forearm. He gently nuzzles into her hair, and she can hear him breathing her in. His breathing is haggard and uneven.

Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest she could hear it in her ears. She was so sure he could hear it, too.

"Please Eleanor," he murmured in her ear, his lips grazing her as they puckered as he spoke.

Jasper isn't a desperate man, but he was in every sense of the word when it came to her. It infuriated him to no end. She had made him soft. All he wanted was to make her happy. He didn't want to be her bodyguard again.

He was the furthest thing from royalty. He had no title, no capital, and he certainly didn't have a respectable familial background. His family name had Danish and German origins, and that's all he knew. He never cared to find out because the only thing he had cared about once upon a time was making a name for himself.

All of it changed the second he realized he was in love with her.