I eyed her in the rearview mirror. That was fucking news to me.
“It’s not confirmed yet, so don’t give me that look,” she said. “I’ve proposed going on a goodwill tour around the country. Meet with locals and small businesses, find out what’s on their minds and what issues they’re facing. I’ve gotten a lot of criticism for not being in touch with what’s happening in Eldorra, and, well, they’re right.”
“That’s a great idea.” I turned onto King’s Drive.
“You think so?” A note of relief tempered the uncertainty in Bridget’s voice.
“I’m no expert on politics, but it sounds right to me.”
Bridget may not want to be queen, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t make a great one. Most people thought the most important quality in a leader was strength, but it was compassion. Strength meant jack shit when you didn’t use it for the right reasons.
Luckily for her and for Eldorra, she had both in spades.
“The king still has to approve it,” she said after we parked and walked to the palace entrance. “But I don’t anticipate him saying no.”
“You mean your grandfather.” Royals did things differently, but it weirded me out how formal they were with each other sometimes.
Bridget flashed a quick smile as we entered the grand front hall. “In most cases, yes. But in matters like this, he’s my king.”
“Speaking of the king…”
We both stiffened at the new voice.
“…He wants to see you.” Andreas swaggered into view, and irritation curled through me. I didn’t know what it was about him that bugged me so much, but Bridget didn’t like him, and that was good enough for me. “How was the date? Did you get a marriage proposal yet?”
“You need to find a new hobby if you’re that invested in my love life,” Bridget said evenly.
“Thank you, but I have plenty of hobbies to keep me occupied. For instance, I just came from a meeting with His Majesty and Lord Erhall on the tax reform legislation.” Andreas smiled at Bridget’s surprise, which she quickly covered up. “As you may know, I’m interested in taking up politics, and the Speaker was kind enough to let me shadow him for a few weeks. See how it all works.”
“Like an intern,” Bridget said.
Andreas’s smile sharpened. “One who’s learning quite a lot.” He slid his glance toward me. “Mr. Larsen, good to see you again.”
Wish I could say the same. “Your Highness.” I loathed addressing him with the same title as Bridget. He didn’t deserve it.
“His Majesty is waiting for you in his office,” Andreas told Bridget. “He wants to see you. Alone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some pressing matters that require my attention. Though none as exciting as a date at an ice-skating rink, I’m sure.”
It took all my self-control not to knock all his teeth out.
“Say the word, and I can make it look like an accident,” I said after Andreas was out of earshot.
Bridget shook her head. “Ignore him. He’s been a satanic little turd since we were children, and he thrives on the attention.”
A startled laugh rose in my throat. “Tell me the words ’satanic little turd’ didn’t just leave your mouth, princess.”
She responded with a sly smile. “I’ve called him worse in my head.”
That’s my girl.
It was nice to see glimpses of the real Bridget shine through, even when she was weighed down with all the royal bullshit.
While she met with the king, I returned to the guesthouse, though I supposed it was my actual house now that I was working here permanently.
I’d just entered my room when my phone rang. “Yeah.”
“Hello to you, too,” Christian drawled. “People have no phone manners these days. It’s such a shame.”
“Get to the point, Harper.” I placed him on speaker and yanked my shirt over my head. I was about to toss it in the laundry basket when I paused. Looked around.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off.
“Always the charmer.” There was a short pause before Christian said, “Magda’s gone.”
I froze. “What do you mean, gone?”
I’d spent a month guarding Magda at Christian’s request until another hand-selected guard finished his contract with his previous client and took over. It was why I couldn’t return to Eldorra earlier.
“I mean, gone. Rocco woke up this morning, and she’d disappeared. No tripped alarms, nothing.”
“You can’t find her?”
Christian could find anyone and anything with even the smallest digital footprint. His computer skills were legendary.
His voice chilled. “I can and I will.”
I suddenly felt sorry for anyone who had a hand in Magda’s disappearance. But they deserved what was coming to them if they were stupid enough to cross Christian Harper.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing. I’ll take care of it. Just thought you should know.” Christian’s drawl returned. Even when he was furious, as I imagined he must be over getting one-upped, he could act like everything was just dandy…before he gutted the offending party like a fish. “How goes it with the princess?”
“Fine.”
“Heard she went on a date today.”
A vein pulsed in my forehead. First Andreas, now him. Why did every person insist on bringing that up? “I was there. But thank you for the breaking news.”
The bastard laughed.
I hung up, cutting him off. It was turning into a habit, but if he had a problem with it, he could tell me to my face.
Then again, Christian had bigger problems on his hands if Magda was missing.
I looked around my room again, trying to pinpoint the source of my earlier nagging feeling. The windows were closed and locked from the inside, all my belongings were where they should be, and nothing was physically amiss.
But my gut was never wrong, and something told me someone had been in here recently…someone who shouldn’t be.
Bridget
My grandfather wantedto know how my date with Steffan went.
That was right. The reason the king summoned me to his office immediately after I returned to the palace was so I could give him a detailed breakdown of my first date with the future Duke of Holstein—and potential future Prince Consort. He did also apologize for not including me in the “emergency” tax reform meeting, which Erhall called at the last minute. I was convinced Erhall did so knowing I wouldn’t be able to attend because of my date with Steffan, but I couldn’t prove it.
Edvard, meanwhile, was convinced Steffan was the one. Based on what, I wasn’t sure, but I imagined Steffan’s title, photogenic looks, and diplomatic demeanor had something to do with it.
My grandfather wasn’t the only one. The press and public went wild for the photos of us at the ice-skating rink, and everyone was already buzzing about our “burgeoning relationship” even though I’d spoken to Steffan twice in my life.
Still, Elin insisted I capitalize on the attention with another date. It would be a “private” one with no reporters—to give the illusion of intimacy—but would later “leak” to the press. I agreed, if only because she was right. The Part-Time Princess headlines had disappeared, replaced by breathless speculation over the new “love” in my life.
If only they knew.
On paper, Steffan would make the perfect husband. He was good-looking, intelligent, kind, and funny, and he was by far the best option out of the so-called eligible bachelors who’d attended my birthday ball.
There was only one problem: no chemistry.
None. Zip. Nada.
I had as much romantic interest in Steffan as I did the succulent plant in my room.
“It’s because you haven’t kissed him yet,” Mikaela said when I told her about my dilemma. “At least kiss the man. You can tell everything based on one kiss.”
She may be right.
So, at the end of my second date with Steffan, I worked up the nerve to kiss him, even though it seemed far too soon. But he was leaving for Preoria tomorrow, and I needed to know if this would go anywhere. I couldn’t spend weeks wondering.
“I must admit, I was surprised you wanted to meet again so soon after our first date.” He gave me a shy smile. “Pleasantly surprised, that is.”
We walked through the Royal Botanic Gardens’ large, heated greenhouse. Lush flowers bloomed around every corner, scenting the air with their sweet perfume, and strings of lights twinkled overhead like tiny stars. It was as romantic a setting as one could hope for, and I tried to focus on Steffan instead of the scowling bodyguard shadowing our every move.
If looks could kill, Rhys would’ve put Steffan six feet in the ground by now.
That was another reason I was hesitant to kiss Steffan. It seemed…wrong to do that in front of Rhys.
God, I wished I’d thought this through beforehand.
“I had fun,” I said when I realized I hadn’t responded yet. “Thanks for agreeing even though I’m sure you’re busy preparing for your trip tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
Steffan smiled.
I smiled.
My palms slicked with sweat.
Just do it. One tiny kiss. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You and Rhys aren’t dating.
“I’m not sure why, but I have the strangest desire to give a rundown of all the fun facts I know about flowers,” Steffan said. “Did you know tulips were worth more than gold in seventeenth-century Holland? Literally.”
That’s what happens when I’m nervous. I start spouting all sorts of useless facts.
A subtle hint from Steffan he wanted a kiss too. He had no reason to be nervous otherwise.
I discreetly wiped my palms on my skirt. Don’t look at Rhys. If I did, I would never go through with it.
“That’s fascinating.” I winced when I realized that was the sort of answer someone gave when they found the subject anything but interesting. “Truly.”
Steffan laughed. “I’m afraid there’s only one way to stop me from boring you death with my floral knowledge, Your Highness,” he said somberly.
“What’s that?” I asked, distracted by the sensation of Rhys’s gaze burning a hole in my side.
“This.” Before I could react, Steffan’s lips were on mine, and even though I knew the kiss was coming, I was still so stunned I could only stand there.
He tasted faintly of mint, and his lips were soft as they brushed against mine. It was a nice, sweet kiss, the kind cameras zoomed in on in movies and most women swooned over.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of them. I might as well be kissing my pillow.