Disclaimer: None of the characters herein belong to me but to Disney and Meg Cabot and I make no monetary gain from writing. This applies to all the chapters.

Author's note:

This story has always been in my head and has, for the last few years, been languishing on my computer essentially finished. It just never came out the way I wanted it to until I started re-writing recently.

I really love reviews; they let me nail down characters, offer suggestions and - on occasion - wake up my listless and temperamental muse.

It follows Joe's first year at the palace and examines why he came to be there. I will be posting updates to this as well as 'The Beach House' at the same time.

He stepped down, the sound of applause carrying him off the platform, and breathed an audible sigh of relief. His notes were curling at the edges, ruined by sweaty palms and constant use. Reluctant to part with them for purely romantic reasons, he stowed them in his pocket for the time being and strode towards the man who was half-hidden behind the curtain at the side of the stage.

"That was great," Andre smiled broadly.

He knew the compliment to be genuine because his closest friend, and business partner, rarely handed them out without merit. He curled his arm around his friend's shoulder and smiled.

"Drink?"

"I wouldn't say no."

The bar of the hotel was quieter than the conference room but the majority of patrons were there because of the event nonetheless. They nodded and offered him the occasional congratulations but he was glad to have some time with Andre and talk over the event they had organised and run with, what appeared, to be quite obvious success.

"I can't believe we just did that," he motioned the barman over, "Two scotches. I mean, can you imagine it?"

"What, that two idiots would have managed this? No!"

Andre laughed, thumping him on the back. The barman slid the glasses towards them and they clinked them together then proceeded to take greedy gulps.

He genuinely could not believe that their infantile business had been so successful and Andre's confidence when they first started out now seemed justified where at first it had been irritating. Andre was more inclined to leading the corporate side of it, schmoozing and winning contracts where Joseph was the man who delivered the promises, while all the while being terrified it was going to collapse in on them. His pride was not overshadowed today; instead he wore it with confidence. A childhood dream, formed on the back of bar mats and discussed on tedious military drills, was now a tangible reality. They stood, he felt, as masters of their own futures in a way they hadn't before. It seemed deserved for two boys from a little fishing village who had dreamed of this to achieve it.

"Here's to many lucrative contracts," Andre sat back on his stool, "The glories of privatisation."

"We need to be in early tomorrow morning because-"

He also found it very hard to switch off.

"Excuse me?"

They both turned to the man who had appeared at their side. He was older than them both and while his body spoke of harsh military training at some point it was softened by age and by time. This dreaded softening was amongst Joseph's worst nightmares and, while Andre had embraced it, he spent punishing hours in the cramped fitness suite at their rented offices or on his own treadmill just to stave it off.

"Hello," the man smiled, "Can I just congratulate you on the excellent presentation. My name is Alois Bruneil. I'm the Head of Security for the Genovian Royal Family."

If he expected them to be impressed then Joseph imagined he would be sorely disappointed by his own reaction. Andre, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing when he smiled and feigned unabashed interest.

"Oh?"

"Yes," the man smiled, then turned to Joseph, "Can I say I am very interested in your understanding, in particular sir, of contemporary threats and the new technology to improve security. I don't lie when I tell you that it's understanding that is very lacking in my place."

For a moment the other man looked woefully stressed but then he smiled and it was gone.

Joseph was interested now, not because he was particularly interested in the royal family of the small country but because of the opportunity this presented. Plus it was his area of interest; how you organised and resourced and maintained subtle but well-run security. He liked tactics and planning, while Andre quite simply liked money. He sat up straighter.

"Really?" Andre cuffed Joseph's shoulder, "Well my partner, Joseph, is the man for that. In fact, I'd go as far as to say we're the company for it."

This was why Joseph wasn't the face of the company and had spent the night before panicking over the presentation he was giving today; he just didn't have that unbearable confidence that Andre did to seem like they were the only option.

"Yes," Alois smiled and offered his hand, "I can see that. I have your card and I'll be in touch."

"Please," Andre pulled another card from his breast pocket, "Take my personal number. It's easier to get us that way."

Joseph almost scoffed at this move; Andre did this with every prospective customer and Joseph had started to wonder why they'd even bothered to purchase business cards.

The Head of Security smiled, "Thank you, gentlemen. It's been a pleasure."

They watched him go then Andre laughed.

"Genovian Royal Family. Wouldn't be a bad name to have on our books."

"I don't believe in absolute monarchy," Joseph drained his glass, then motioned for two more.

"So serious all the time Joe! And who cares about their beliefs. If we're protecting them we're getting their money," His friend shook his head, "Maria invited you back for dinner, don't get too drunk."

Joseph looked at his friend then laughed, "I can handle my drink. Tell her thank you, but I'd hate to crash another family dinner – plus I don't think I can cope with another night of Lucia's tea parties."

"Stop it," Andre was serious, "You're not gate-crashing. Maria worries about you and Jaime would be glad to see you. You are his godfather, it's his birthday party next week, remember."

"Tell her to stop," he grumbled, "You don't need to worry about me. And I'll remember, I thought I'd take him to see Real."

Andre sighed, "So you're busy tonight then?"

"Yes," he winked, "of course I am."

"You need to calm down," Andre was half-serious but it irritated him.

"Don't lecture me, Andre," he muttered, "I'm enjoying myself."

"A little too much," his friend pulled his coat on and offered Joseph his, "You're going to go through all the women in Madrid. What will you do then?"

He laughed darkly, "Go to Barcelona."

-0-

Joseph hadn't, realistically, expected to hear from the Head of Security from Genovia. The twelve month contract they secured with a national bank and an insurance company (for which they'd had to hire three new men) were delight enough on the back of the conference so when Alois phoned it was with almost a blasé attitude that he sat down with Andre to discuss the phone call.

He finished training with the new recruits - they had been doing security protocols - and left them to have their lunch while he made his way to the conference room at the far end of the office. His head thumped from the night before and the three hours he'd spent agonising in the gym had done nothing to ease it. Sometimes he wondered if the headaches he got were not physical but psychological – a manifestation of his guilt.

"You honestly should hear this," Andre let out a low whistle, pushing a hastily scribbled set on notes towards him across the conference table, "It's not even believable."

He began reading but Andre was obviously so excited that he couldn't contain himself.

"They're offering one million to secure us alone. Not including personnel fees or other services. The only stipulation is your exclusive services, just as an advisor, for a year."

"I'm trying to read this," he snapped at his friend.

"No matter," Andre pulled the paper out of his hand, "I can tell you what they want."

"Who's they?"

"What does it matter? It's an amazing offer. We provide security advice and services to an internationally known royal family? Their names on our books? We'll make a killing. I've done some research; they're really influential."

He wasn't quite sure that he understood the terms of the agreement, or if it even was an agreement, so he held up his hand.

"I don't quite know Andre," he said, "I'm not sure. It sounds like it involves a lot of my time."

His friend was thoughtful for a second, "Yeah, it does. You'd have to move there but only for a year. It's not a rolling contract, it's more of a consultation."

He had half-expected this from the hastily explained plan so he wasn't surprised. Still, the thought of leaving his apartment and his life here in Madrid didn't appeal in the slightest. Plus he had his half of the company to run – the training and the implementation of contracts. He couldn't simply leave that behind for an influential name on the books.

"I…" he shrugged, realised that this was not his area of expertise, "What do you think?"

"I think we'd be crazy to pass up the opportunity," Andre answered, "On the other hand I don't know who could replace you here and have the knowledge you do. It's maybe a bad idea to go somewhere else while we need you here. I don't know the ins and outs of this like you do. I'm just a charlatan."

"Don't be silly," he examined the notes again, "You could do it. It's just a year, right? And Augustino will help you."

Augustino was another friend from the army. While not as close to them, he was always looking for a way to make some money and his gig as a mercenary wasn't working out so well right now.

"Right," his friend said, "And you're just over the border – you can be back in a day when we need you. I did make that clear, that you'd have to come back from time to time. You might have to help out with security at times for them too, like the actual body-guarding, but it should be fine. If you want to do it I'll talk to Augustino."

Joseph ignored the feeling that, for the befit of the company, the decision had already been made. He didn't feel particularly tethered anyway. A year was nothing, three hundred and sixty-five days were a blink. He shrugged again. It might be good to get out of Madrid for a while; he spent too much time in bars and women's beds. Despite himself, he knew that he was jammed in a rut. And despite himself, he wanted to stay in it. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, made his decision, and then spoke.

"Genovia it is," he smiled, "A million is worth a year of my time."

"Yeah," Andre laughed, "With that kind of money we'll need to buy a company car that will drive you to and from Genovia in the blink of an eye."

"That's irresponsible," Joseph laughed, "You're the responsible one. Don't change the roles."

"Tell me about it," his friend sat back, "Are you sure Joe?"

"Of course," he nodded, "I don't mind the idea of a little apartment in Genovia. They have bars in Genovia, and women, right?"

Andre laughed, he could see, despite himself, "Yeah, both in abundance. But you'll be staying in the palace."

"Oh," he said caustically, "Free room and board."

-0-

His apartment, based in the Malasana district of the city, seemed forlorn as he considered what to pack. Piled neatly on the dining table were the books and papers he had been studying recently; autobiographies of the royal family, maps of the country, cities and palaces, files forwarded by the keen Alois. Lifting them he threw them into his briefcase, watching the queen's face as she disappeared behind the black leather. Figuring he had already made a start, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and slid into his arm chair and contemplated what time he'd leave in the morning. He was going to eat with Andre and Maria and their kids tonight and had already spent the weekend explaining to his family in the small seaside town he had grown up in why he was going across the border, and was actually welcoming the escape by the time he was ready to leave. He hated things which dragged themselves out. He wanted, quite simply, to get started.

Though it wasn't going to be a brilliant year, it was laying a foundation for an internationally recognised company. It felt right to make the sacrifice.

The shrill ring of the doorbell startled him from thought. He pulled the door open and sagged a little; he had been hoping, perhaps vainly, to avoid this.

She was very beautiful, even more so when she was angry. It seemed cowardly and irreverent that this was the first thing he noticed.

"Hey," she brushed past him and into the apartment.

He was about to chastise her when he realised that calling her out on it was unjustified; she'd spent most nights in the last two years here. The last time he'd seen her, she'd slammed the exact same door behind her.

Bracing himself, he shut the door.

"We go on a break and you leave the country," she started, "Nice, Joe."

He slumped down into his chair and dared himself to make eye-contact.

"Who told you?"

"Maria," she answered, looking around, "When did you plan on telling me you were leaving?"

"I didn't," he said honestly, "Anna, I thought it might be easier on you."

He could have gotten angry at Maria for telling her but that was simply childish. Of course she told her. They were friends and when Joe had asked Anna to marry him, Maria had been delighted.

"Nothing you ever do is easy on me," she hissed and he could see she was supressing tears, "It's always about you."

She was still wearing the engagement ring and it made him feel uneasy.

He looked up, fully aware she was right, "I am sorry."

She fell into the couch, brushing tears away, "I don't know what I expected. I should have learned to expect nothing from you."

He wanted to be the man she wanted. The man who would stay and marry and have children but he just couldn't be that person. He had tried with her and he had tried with women before her too. The problem was that he was a nomad by the very nature of who he was. He was always restless to move on, to act; being stationary hurt him to the point where he hurt others. And he didn't love her…even though he had tried. He was so very trying and that appeared to be his problem.

"Anna, I tried," he said feebly.

"You don't love me, do you?"

He looked her square in the eye and hated himself for his words. They left him as if they belonged to someone else, someone much crueller and more calculated than him.

"No, I don't."

She shook her head, "Then why did you waste two years of my life?"

He didn't want to say 'Because I thought I did', so he just shrugged.

"Joe, it's about time someone taught you to stop being so selfish," she said calmly, "You're cruel."

He resented the accusation, regardless of the truth of it. He bristled at her words and felt anger growing inside himself but he checked it. Instead he stepped back from her in all ways that he could.

"I have to get ready Anna," he said quietly, "You should leave."

"So that's it?"

Her anger flared again and her voice rose.

"Yes," he motioned, not unkindly, towards the door, "There's no point."

"No," she was sobbing now, "No there's so obviously not."

He felt unbearably guilty but to show her that would be to prove her right. He wanted to tell her that she knew what she was getting in to but instead he just stayed silent. She strode out, slamming the door behind her and two years of his life went with her. It was a cyclical version of this, his life. The first fires of romance, the reality of it all, then the slamming of many doors. He was bored of it but no matter how he tried he couldn't escape it.

A few minutes later he left his apartment, after he was sure she was gone, and made his way down the stairs and into the bar across the street. It was cool and dark and not too busy because it was early evening. Blanca, the bar-maid, smiled and slid a beer towards him.

"Hard day?"

"You could say that," he nodded as he climbed onto the stool.

"We can fool about if you want, I get off at eight," she said casually as she dried a glass with a towel.

"Thanks Blanca but it's always awkward afterwards," he nodded, "Plus I have dinner with my friend's family tonight."

"Sounds fun," she said dryly, leaning towards him, "You look so miserable. Is it because you're leaving?"

"You're too nosey," he joked, "But no, it's not."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, "Well you know I'll miss you."

"Thanks," he smiled and held up his beer, "You always know how to make a guy feel good."

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