Chapter Text
The hallway outside smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive cleaning products, the kind Monaco apartment blocks were known for. Living in Monaco was expensive, very expensive, but it came with its solid advantages. Among all, the hallway of his palace always smelled and looked clean, so much, that Max was pretty sure he could eat on it without much problems.
He slid his key into the lock, the movement smooth, efficient, practiced. The heavy door opened with a muted click, and he stepped into the apartment switching on the light because the sun had slowly faded while he was grocery-shopping, letting the dark take its place.
He bent, set the grocery bag on the floor just inside the entryway, and toed off his shoes. The air inside was still, faintly cool, holding the trace of the ocean breeze that managed to slip past the half-drawn blinds. He reached for the panel on the wall and keyed in the alarm code, a sequence drilled into his muscle memory, that definitely wasn't his mother's birthday. The system chirped once, green light blinking steady and Max was good to go.
The place was exactly the way he left it impersonal and ordinary. The open-plan living room stretched toward the glass doors that led to a narrow balcony, but the blinds were pulled down, cutting the harbor into thin stripes of silver light. The kitchen was compact, all steel and marble, counters bare except for a knife block and a black coffee maker. To be completely honest, Max hated coffee, and he had it simply because the previous owner left it, but it sat there unused; he could't brag about not being coffee dependent though, because he had enough Red Bulls that could cover months of not buying it, if necessary.
He bent for the bag, carried it to the counter, and began to unpack the items, that landed in their assigned places: eggs to the fridge inside their box, oat milk on the side, yogurts, vegetables lined neatly in the drawer, pasta jar slotted into the pantry beside its twin, together with chia seeds and energy bars. He murmured a curse, because he forgot for the umpteenth time his favorite black Venus rice and huffed, staring at the empty spot he had left for it.
The refrigerator hummed, the clock above the counter ticked, the faint roar of traffic from the boulevard below slipped in around the blinds as Max folded his grocery bags and set them back into the pantry on top of the garbage and then walked towards his bathroom, the automatic light recognizing his presence and illuminating the room properly, letting him wash his hands and dry them with his towel.
He got out from the bathroom and checked the clock,
6:40 pm.
A nice hour to have a run, he decided.
He hadn't ran in a while, his knees fucked after running an half marathon not that long ago, and enough time had passed for Max to stop caring about it and jump back to it, tired of weights and legs days. He could have a small run, and then go back home, eat and call it a day.
Yeah, that sounded a nice plan,
And that was why his phone started buzzing against the counter. It took him a second to realize he was being called, and not an easy, convenient message he could ignore and pretend that he simply did not see it.
He still walked toward it, after all few people had his number, and fewer dared to call him. Especially after his two-years training new agents, he was told that he was pretty feared by the academy of special forces, which was a good thing if you asked Max, and even better if you asked Max's father.
It's better to feared than to be compassionated.
He glanced at the screen,
Sebastian.
A sigh left him before his thumb even brushed the glass to answer the call, already regretting his choice. Seb was his ex superior, and as much as they had a lovely friendship now, he didn't call to chat, never had, because neither him nor Max himself were those kind of people, but Max knew that if he ever needed a hand and no questions, he could ask Seb's help.
And of course, the thing was mutual, that was why he answered it.
"Tell me you're calling because a student of the academy made something so stupid that you felt the need to say it to me" Max said, because it wasn't exactly uncommon. So many times, eighteen years old young boy jumped in the academy of special forces and made some silly mistakes. Max had his fair share of mistakes too, but his father made him join the academy at sixteen, so his superior expected them from him.
His father didn't.
On the other end, Seb's laugh sounded low and familiar. "Oh, I have too many, actually," he said, "But that's not why I'm calling." The humor bled from Seb's tone, "I've got a job for you. I'm sending you the details right now."
Max's blue eyes slid across the apartment to where his iPad lay on the desk, black screen gleaming faintly in the ambient light. He didn't move yet. "I just bought groceries and I was about to go for a run. You can't let me enjoy my evening in peace, can you?"
"You've never enjoyed anything in peace," Seb said dryly. "You wouldn't know how. Check your iPad. File's there."
Max huffed out loud and crossed the room, bare feet soundless on the wood. He pulled the chair from the desk, the leather creaking as he lowered himself into it. His hands were big, fingers long, scarred faintly from years of training and fighting, but steady as ever as he unlocked the device with his passcode.
Max tapped on the mail, and the file opened with a specific server, he authorized it with the scan of his face, and he already didn't like it. The fact that he had to do all these tasks meant one thing, which was just about to be confirmed.
Max skimmed with professional detachment, thumb sliding across the glass of the over-expensive device. "Anonymous threats, multiple ones." he summarized out loud, "Nothing new, sounds like a work for a beginner." he stated, because truly, why was he being called?
"Not really," Seb said, voice flattening into something heavier, "Scroll further."
Max obeyed, eyes dropping to the section more informations.
The name appeared in bold type.
Charlotte Leclerc.
He read it aloud, voice clipped. "Who?"
Seb chuckled, though without amusement. "I knew you'd ask. You really don't read the papers, do you?"
"I don't read gossip papers," Max said, eyes narrowing as he kept scrolling through the files.
" You don't even read the local ones, apparently" Seb said, this time chuckling amused, "She's the daughter of King Albert of Monaco. Which makes her the princess of Monaco. She runs a foundation for women's education, gives speeches, organizes charity events. And now someone wants her death, we believe it's because she's the next in line for the throne of Monaco.."
Max scrolled and the first photograph appeared.
Charlotte Leclerc, captured at a gala. Emerald evening gown, slim frame drawn elegant by the cut of the fabric. Her father at her side, a tableau of political power and filial support. She smiled at the cameras, poised, practiced, faultless. Her skin glowed pale under the lights, chestnut curls styled to perfection, not a strand out of place, her green eyes shining just like the necklace she was wearing, the diamond probably matched with, her stance distant in a way of a woman fully aware that she was being watched.
Max didn't linger and scrolled again.
The next picture wasn't polished, it was grainier, taken on a city street outside a charity center. Banners hung crooked on the marble behind her, the princess was mid-laugh, her head tilted, curls wild in the sun, cheeks flushed with color, with a woman that the image simply called Heidi, blonde, probably part of the Royal Family too, for all Max knew.
(Or cared)
Still, Max's thumb paused, taking a moment longer to stare at the picture, before he scrolled on, pushing the image away.
"There must be someone else," he said, tone flat again. He set the iPad on the desk, screen still glowing with her face. "You have other men. Other teams. Give it to them."
"I do have other men and other teams." Seb's reply was immediate. "But none of them are you or have your experience, it's a dangerous case Max." he said, and Max waited in silence because he knew Seb wasn't done, "She's young and stubborn. She doesn't even agree with this, and that makes her vulnerable...and a bit infuriating."
Max let out a dry laugh "So you want me to baby sit the umpteenth spoiled rich girl because of a random idiot that can be taken down by a random police-men?" he asks, and he kind of felt that Seb saw his reaction coming, because his answer was pretty straightforward.
"Which is why I need someone like you, no matter how difficult she gets, I know you'll handle her." Seb said, and Max rolled his eyes, but didn't interrupt him, "Also, it's not just a random idiot. I fear this is serious, Max,"
Max leaned back in the chair, broad shoulders filling the leather, arms folding across his chest. He dragged a hand over his hair as his blue eyes returned to the screen, to the picture of Charlotte's laugh in the candid photo.
Seb's voice dropped lower. "Max. I mean it. I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't a life or death situation." The apartment was still again, clock ticking, fridge humming, the city whispering faintly through the blinds as Max weighted his options. "Also, I met her. And she is lovely, definitely not a daddy's daughter,"
Max's gaze lingered on the iPad and before he could form any other thoughts, he locked the Ipad.
"Fine."
Seb exhaled, relief audible even over the line. "Thank you, Max," he said,
Seb's voice came steady through the line, warm but threaded with authority. "All right, here's how it will work. Tomorrow you'll meet the Leclercs at the palace."
Max's pen scratched across the notepad on his desk, black ink forming neat, blocky letters. "I'll need a map of the palace, grounds, gardens. Entry and exit points, service doors, staff quarters...everything."
"I'll send you the full schematics," Seb said without missing a beat. "Already requested from their chief of security, he said he'll cooperate with you for Charlotte. And if he doesn't..."
"He will," Max cut in, voice flat.
Seb chuckled. "Yeah, that's more like you,"
Max flipped to a clean page, wrote a quick convoy: vehicles. "Her car?"
"She uses a black Ferrari Purosangue, "
Max's brows lifted faintly, though his voice remained even. "The SUV?"
Seb gave a wry laugh. "Yes, no comment on it Max."
He rolled his eyes,
"Bulletproof?"
"Yeah, Ferrari built it for her. Still, have Daniel check it daily, he is Charlotte's driver."
"Daniel," Max repeated, underlining the name. "Reliable?"
"One of the best, you'll like him. He's nothing like you, though...he talks."
Max's pen stilled for half a second, then he wrote Driver – Daniel (* Seb trusts him). He tapped the nib twice against the paper. "Her daily schedule?"
"Variable," Seb replied. "Charity visits, meetings with her foundation, public appearances at her father's side. And the galas. There's always a gala, that's where she'll be most exposed."
Max leaned back in the chair, pen spinning once between his fingers. "She attracts attention, I assume."
"She's a symbol, very loved from the public, they call her the princess of the people. If something happens to her, the monarchy will end because she is the only heir. That's why this can't go wrong." Seb paused, then added, voice gentler, "And Max... be aware, she's lovely but if she thinks it's necessary, she'll fight you without blinking."
Max made a noncommittal sound, pen returning to the page. "I can handle a spoiled princess"
"Of that I might have a few doubts" Seb said and Max opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut short. "I'm sending you the palace contacts, her staff roster, and her itinerary for the next month."
Max closed the notebook, set the pen neatly across it. "Fine."
There was a moment's silence, and then Seb's voice softened, humor sneaking back in. "Try not to scare her off on the first day. You have that look, Max, like you're here to kill instead of protect."
"You're telling me I have the resting bitch face?" Max asked, his voice flat but final.
"I would never," Seb chuckled. "Anyways, if you don't have any more questions, we're done. Sleep, you'll need it."
"Bye Seb," he said, and ended the call, resting his phone on the desk.
For a while, Max sat immersed in his silence, the weight of the iPad closed under his hand, notebook squared at his elbow. It was fine, he could handle it.
And yet.
He rose, pushed the chair back, and crossed the room. The balcony doors silent as they were slid open, and the warm Mediterranean air swept in. Max braced his hands on the railing, shoulders broad, posture straight. He breathed in deep, the salt tang biting his lungs. He had taken dozens of assignments, all different, all dangerous, there was no way he couldn't handle a single person.
Maybe it was Seb's voice, heavier than usual when he'd said he'd trust no one else with it, but frankly speaking Max was used on having heavy responsibilities on his shoulder, and he always lived up to them.
He went back inside, and checked the clock.
7:10 p.m.
It took barely half an hour for Max's life to change in one day, even if he didn't feel like it was that big of a deal. He reached for the Ipad and went back to his kitchen, filling himself a glass of water, and weighting ninety grams of white (boring) rice, cut two courgettes in slices and reached for his pre-cut chicken breast, to grill it. As he did so, he unlocked the Ipad to visualize all the files Seb was sending him.
He tapped on the file called civil registry record.pdf and he started reading it, skipping the obvious with her name(s) and surname. She was 165cm, weighted fifty-two kilos, (Max raised his eyebrows when he realized she weighted less, way less, than half of what he usually lifted at the gym.) and had a degree on architecture.
Apparently, she recently had adopted a dog, called him Leo, which...Max had no idea why Seb would put that useless information on the file but whatever. He skipped the part about her family cause Seb had told him enough of it, and tapped on people of interest, which was a long list of names, with a picture next to every single one of it, and he catalogued Daniel Ricciardo as her driver and Heidi Berger as Charlotte's childhood best friend.
He kept reading, stirring his dinner, until it was ready as he tapped on the map of the palace, starting to study ways to escape or to hide if needed, zooming and moving the image, stopping to take a dish. He hoped he still had somewhere his covert earpiece set, and if he didn't, he would make it Seb's problem.
He filled his dish, and kept studying everything he needed to know with his free hand, and when his phone illuminated with a notification, he read it quickly:
SEBASTIAN
I've sent your CV to the royal family, and they are beyond excited! See you tomorrow, 8:30 a.m at the Royal house!
Max breathed out, and simply double tapped the message to let Seb know he read it.
When the food was gone, he set the fork down, rinsed the plate, put it away to let it dry properly.
He sat at the counter a moment longer, iPad dark at his elbow, arms folded loosely across his chest. The hum of the refrigerator, the steady tick of the clock, the muffled rush of traffic through the glass, all of it sounded sharper tonight, as though the silence itself was starting to feel hard to live in.
Tomorrow, he will step into a palace, meet a princess who was already more complicated than the file suggested, and do his best to not have her killed.
Max exhaled once, steady, and pushed the iPad away.
Then he turned off the kitchen light and left the room to take a quick shower.
Starting from tomorrow, his world will change,
whether he wanted it to or not.