Chapter 5: Suits and Summits
The Ferrari LaFerrari glided back to Kensington Palace, its engine a low hum as London's afternoon bustle faded behind them. Edward Windsor, Duke of York, steered with one hand, his chestnut hair catching the breeze, his blue-gray eyes occasionally darting to Tsunade. She sat in the passenger seat, her blonde ponytail still neat despite the day's chaos, her amber eyes reflecting the city's glow.
The lunch at The Ritz—her clumsy cutlery attempts, the rice on her cheek, her unexpected blush—lingered in Edward's mind, a quiet thrill amidst the tension of their precarious situation. But he pushed those thoughts aside. The financial summit loomed, and they needed to prepare.
Tsunade broke the silence, her voice teasing. "So, prince, what's this summit? Another fancy meal, or do I have to scare off more idiots like those guys at the Ritz?"
Edward chuckled, pulling into the palace's private tunnel. "No meals this time. It's a global investment forum—businessmen from everywhere, talking money and power. I'm just a guest, so I mingle, smile, and avoid boring speeches. You're my bodyguard, so look tough and stay close."
"Tough's my specialty," she said, smirking. "But I'm not wearing this." She tugged at her borrowed hoodie, frowning. "Looks like a civilian's laundry."
"Fair point," Edward said, parking in the underground garage. "Let's find you something summit-worthy. Can't have my bodyguard outshining the guests in a hoodie."
They entered the palace through a discreet side door, avoiding the main halls where servants or courtiers might lurk. Edward led Tsunade to his private apartments, a suite of rooms with high ceilings, oak paneling, and shelves of leather-bound books. A walk-in wardrobe, larger than most London flats, held his tailored suits and a curated selection of women's attire—gifts from designers hoping to curry favor with the royal family.
Edward gestured to the racks. "Take your pick. Something sharp, professional. Summit's high-profile."
Tsunade raised a brow, running her fingers over a silk gown. "You keep dresses in here, prince? Got a secret hobby?"
He laughed, leaning against the doorframe. "Perks of the job. Designers send stuff, hoping I'll pass it to my cousins. Try what you like. I'll find something for myself."
Tsunade rifled through the racks, her shinobi efficiency at odds with the delicate fabrics. She pulled out a crimson evening gown, holding it up with a skeptical look. "This for fighting or flirting?"
"Neither," Edward said, grinning. "Try it on. Humor me."
She rolled her eyes but stepped behind a screen, emerging minutes later in the gown. The fabric hugged her curves, the deep red accentuating her golden hair and amber eyes.
Edward's breath caught, his heart stuttering. She was stunning, a warrior goddess in a world of silk and satin, her presence commanding even in an unfamiliar dress.
"You… look incredible," he said, his voice softer than intended.
Tsunade smirked, twirling with a mock curtsy. "Not bad, huh? But I'd snap the hem in a fight."
She tried others—a sapphire cocktail dress, a flowing emerald maxi—each leaving Edward more awestruck. Her beauty was effortless, transforming every garment into something extraordinary.
But Tsunade shook her head at each, muttering about mobility or "too many sparkles."
Finally, she pulled out a specially designed black suit—tailored, sleek, with a fitted blazer and trousers that balanced elegance and practicality. She slipped it on, adjusting the cuffs, and checked herself in the mirror. The suit accentuated her strength, the dark fabric sharp against her blonde hair, her diamond forehead mark subtly visible.
"This," she said, nodding. "Feels like a shinobi's gear, but fancier."
Edward stared, unable to look away. "Perfect," he said, clearing his throat. "You'll steal the show."
She grinned, nudging his arm. "Your turn, prince. Don't let me outshine you."
Edward selected a black suit of his own—bespoke, with a slim tie and polished cufflinks. He changed quickly, emerging to find Tsunade's eyes on him, her smirk softening into something else—appreciation, maybe.
Together, they were striking, a matched pair in sharp black, his tall frame complementing her powerful presence.
"We look good," Edward said, catching their reflection. "Ready to impress?"
"Ready to keep you alive," Tsunade quipped, but her gaze lingered, a flicker of warmth in her eyes.
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The summit was held at the ExCeL London, a sprawling conference center in the Docklands, its glass facade glinting under the evening sky. Edward and Tsunade arrived in the Ferrari, joining a stream of limousines and supercars unloading global elites—tycoons from New York, tech moguls from Shanghai, oil magnates from Dubai.
The event was a Global Investment Forum, a biannual gathering to broker deals, secure funding for green energy projects, and flex financial muscle. Edward, invited as a guest due to his financial stewardship, was there to network, not negotiate, his royal status a draw for ambitious dealmakers.
Tsunade stepped out, her black suit drawing eyes as she scanned the parking lot. Rows of cars gleamed—Bentleys, Lamborghinis, a sleek silver Porsche 911 Turbo that caught her attention.
"Prince," she said, nodding at the Porsche, "you said your garage was impressive, but this? More cars than I've seen in my life. That one's sharp—fast, right?"
Edward glanced at the Porsche, amused. "Very fast. You've got good taste, Tsu. Maybe I'll let you drive one someday—if you promise not to scream again."
She snorted, elbowing him. "Keep dreaming. I'd outrace you."
They entered the summit, a cavernous hall buzzing with suited attendees, champagne flutes clinking, and screens flashing market data. Edward mingled effortlessly, shaking hands with a German industrialist, nodding at a Singaporean banker. His charm was practiced, his duke's authority subtle but undeniable.
Tsunade stayed close, her bodyguard role natural, her sharp eyes tracking every movement. Her presence was magnetic, and men—young heirs, grizzled CEOs—stared, their gazes lingering on her like she was a prize to be won.
A tech bro in a flashy watch tried to catch her eye, smirking. A Russian oligarch raised his glass in her direction. But Tsunade ignored them, her focus on Edward, her loyalty a silent rebuke to their eagerness.
Edward noticed, a quiet pride swelling in his chest.
"You're causing a stir," he murmured, steering her toward a quieter corner. "Not that you care."
"They're soft," she said, her voice low. "Like merchants playing at warriors. You're the only one worth watching, prince."
Her words were casual, but her glance held a spark, and Edward's pulse quickened.
They paused by a balcony overlooking the Thames, the city's lights shimmering on the water. Edward leaned on the railing, loosening his tie.
"This summit's exhausting," he said. "All talk, no action. Sometimes I wish I could ditch the title, see the world—Tokyo, New York, anywhere."
Tsunade tilted her head, studying him. "You'd hate it. You're too… noble. Back home, I fought for my village, not just duty. It's who I am. What's your fight, prince?"
He met her eyes, her question cutting deeper than expected. "Keeping my family safe. Building something that lasts. And now… keeping you safe."
His voice softened, and their hands brushed on the railing, a fleeting touch that sent warmth through them both.
Before she could respond, a shadow moved in the crowd. A lean man in a gray suit, his eyes cold, watched them from across the hall.
Edward tensed, recognizing him—Viktor Malin, a financier with rumored ties to organized crime, once linked to threats against the royal family. Malin's gaze lingered on Tsunade, his expression calculating, as if sniffing out her cover's weakness.
Tsunade sensed it too, her shinobi instincts flaring. She stepped closer to Edward, her voice a whisper.
"That guy's trouble. Want me to handle him?"
"Not yet," Edward said, his jaw tight. "But stay sharp. He's dangerous."
She nodded, her hand brushing his arm, a silent promise. As they rejoined the summit, Malin's eyes followed, a predator circling.
Edward felt the weight of his choices—hiding Tsunade, defying Marsden, inviting her into his world. But with her beside him, fierce and unwavering, he was ready for the fight.
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