When I knock on Annika’s door, her response is immediate, as though she were waiting for me. “Enter!”
I open the heavy dark wood door suspiciously. When I step in, I find Annika in the sitting room. The room looks totally unlike any other in the palace, though… it’s like she emptied the room of all its furniture and replaced it with an eclectic blend of expensive, modern pieces.
In the corner, I see that she’s set up an area dedicated to a three-way mirror and several lights. All the lights are turned on and focused on a single spot before the mirror.
What a waste of resources.
Annika herself is seated on a low gray tweed couch near the window. A blond male hairdresser is standing behind her, holding a can of hairspray and a comb, pursing his lips. Her hair is long and lustrous as per usual; I’m not sure what if anything he is even here for.
“It’s done,” he announces.
Annika turns, taking me in. She looks amazing in a stylish light pink dress, but then again, she always looks like that. Her lips twitch and her eyes shine with something akin to mischief.
“Thank you,” she tells the hairdresser. “I’ll see you again in the morning.”
He walks out, casting a dour look over me as he goes. I look at my watch again.
“We’re already late to your first appointment,” I say, adjusting my cuff. “We should leave immediately.”
She stands up, rolling her eyes. “Oh, that’s a little trick that the royal press office tries to pull. They write down everything two hours earlier on my schedule in a blatant attempt to manipulate me into showing up early for events. I just ignore it and show up later.”
I hunch my brow at that. “I see.”
She walks over to a full-length mirror, stepping into the first of four pairs of heels that are laid out for her. She looks at her reflection and then kicks the shoes off, leaving them haphazardly on the floor. Then she slips on another pair, looks in the mirror, and poses.
I stand near the doorway, wondering if I should bring up what happened over the weekend. She doesn’t seem troubled by the incident… but maybe I should be worried about that.
After all, the kiss felt earth shattering when it happened. For me, anyway…
Annika turns, pursing her lips. “Which pair of shoes makes me look the most fuckable?”
She sticks out her leg, modeling a shoe for me. I stare at her for a second.
Yeah, we definitely need to talk.
“I don’t know,” I say, adjusting the knot in my tie. “But I think we need to lay down some boundaries, Annika.”
She looks up at me, her eyes dancing with merriment. “Like safe words? Mine will be forage. Or do you mean a list of sex acts that are labeled red, yellow, and green?”
I shoot her a look. “That kind of humor is not allowed, for one thing.”
She rolls her eyes. “You really are a drag, you know that?”
I fold my arms across my chest and narrow my eyes at her. “I think it’s important that we talk candidly to prevent any confusion between us. What happened at the beach the other day— “
She grins, interrupting me. “Are you trying to tell me that it was super hot?”
I flush. Did I fantasize about that moment later when I was drunk and alone? Yes. Did I think about her when I was stroking my cock? Definitely.
But I’m not proud of it… and she doesn’t need to know about it, either.
“It was out of line. It’s the reason that we need boundaries. A very firm set of rules of engagement, so that nothing untoward ever happens again.”
Annika pulls a face. “Untoward? What are you, my grandmother?”
I glower at her. “I’m serious, Annika.”
She favors me with a long look. “Things happen, Erik. We’re both pretty people. We were both in the same place at the same time. So what? So, we kissed. Big deal.”
She turns away, kicking off her heels and slipping her feet into another pair. I take a moment to absorb her words.
“I think we should have some rules, just in case.”
She rolls her eyes, turning sideways to look at her slight frame in the mirror. When she doesn’t disagree, I clear my throat and continue.
“No touching,” I say, ticking items off on my fingers. “No talking about sensitive topics. No questions about my private life. And no discussion of anything that you wouldn’t talk to the Queen Mother about.”
Annika turns to me with a glare. “Don’t tell me what I can or cannot do, Erik. I’m a part of the royal family. Like it or not, you technically work for me.”
I huff out a laugh. “I work for your brother, not you. And if you have a problem with any of my conditions, you can go tell someone about it. Anyone, really. I’d love to see the look on your grandmother’s face when you tell her that you’re upset because you can’t ask me about who I’ve fucked lately.”
Her brows rise at that. “Who have you slept with? It must’ve been a while ago. Because you were so needy back there on the beach…”
“I was drunk!” I thunder. The words burst forth, so vehement and sudden and loud that Annika widens her eyes and goes still.
My words aren’t a good excuse; alcohol is never a decent reason for anything. If anyone should know that, it’s me. But I think I’ve wanted to shout at her for a good long while now.
Sadly, it’s not very satisfying. Especially not when I can see that she’s a little shaken by my tone.
“Annika,” I say, shaking my head and looking off toward the window. “Jesus. You bring out the worst in me, you know that?”
She bites her lip and shrugs a single shoulder, looking very young all the sudden. “No.”
I can’t stand her sudden vulnerability, how it lurks behind her fullness and bratty attitude. It’s a sword sharp enough to shred me into a million tiny ribbons.
“Stop it,” I grit out.
She looks at me sharply. “Stop what?”
“That little innocent, wide-eyed ingenue thing you’re doing. It’s not working on me.”
Her brow furrows. “What? I’m not doing anything.”
“Maybe you’re not trying, but you definitely are,” I grate. My fists clench. “And it’s not playing fair, okay? Just… behave yourself.”
Her eyes narrow. Her expression cools. “So, you are just like everyone else, then. You make assumptions about my behavior. And then when my actions don’t line up perfectly, you shake your finger at me and scold me.” She lifts her head, tossing her hair back. “I’m done with that. I’ve had plenty of that in my life already. So, if you don’t mind, get the hell out of my rooms. I’ll meet you by the limousine in two hours.”
She turns and marches to the doorway that leads to her bedroom. She opens it and slams it after herself hard enough that a painting shifts on the wall, skewing slightly.
I glare after her, shaking my head as I exit the room into the hallway.
Annika is a mess. One minute she’s joking, the next she’s on the verge of tears. Defiant, then charming, and then vulnerable. How am I supposed to handle someone like that?
I won’t be drawn into her insane world of high drama and petty bullshit, that’s for sure. With that reaffirmed in my mind, I head downstairs to my office to brood in peace.