Can you just cool it until the wedding?
I close my eyes. “Take me to the palace, please.”
Back to my upcoming punishment…
3
Erik
My office is a cramped space in the basement of Amalienborg palace. It’s really confined, the space no bigger than one of Stellan’s walk-in closets.
Not that I’m exactly jealous of my best friend, the King of Denmark. He has some big fish to fry, especially with his upcoming nuptials to his American journalist Margot.
But my office is really rather ridiculous. It’s musty. It’s dark. It’s always freezing. It’s only large enough to hold a desk and three chairs. It has a single window placed far above my head through which sunlight only streams in during the earliest hours of the day.
It’s a little depressing, frankly.
I’m rarely in it anyway, preferring to always be on the go. But just now, it serves its purpose. It is cool and quiet, exactly what I need today.
My head pounds. Why did I drink so much last night?
I stretch out and kick my feet up on my desk, upset that I still have to wear my suit. Stellan is still in bed with Margot, but me… I am working.
I am always working. I squint and then unbutton the top button of my shirt. Loosening my tie a little bit brings an unimaginable kind of relief.
I think it also summons her.
When the Queen Mother sweeps into the drab little room that I call an office, I shoot to my feet and shut down my iPad screen. I’m still extremely hungover and trying to cover it up with an astounding volume of coffee and breakfast pastries. The leftovers of my breakfast are still on my desk but there’s nothing to be done about it now.
I clear my throat, trying to appear presentable. I bow, wishing that I hadn’t just loosened my tie. “Your Royal Highness.”
The Queen Mother looks me up and down, as if examining me for flaws. She’s a tiny person, probably only five feet tall. But what she lacks in physicality she more than makes up for in formidability.
She tucks a strand of her iron-gray hair back, looking above reproach in her modestly chic white dress. I stare at her blankly.
God, she makes me so nervous. No one else has this effect on me.
“Did we have a meeting that I forgot about?” I blurt out.
Her eyes narrow on my face. “No, Erik.” She glances behind herself at the doorway, then looks back at me. She smiles tightly. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
I look down at my desk and the couple of chairs that have been crammed into this tiny space, intended for theoretical guests. “Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”
As she squeezes herself into the chair furthest from the door, I find my seat again. A second after she sits down, I hear the clatter of high heels approaching very quickly.
Annika pokes her head into the room, making a face. “This is where your office is? God, could they make it any harder to find?”
“Annika!” the Queen Mother scolds. “You are late. Come in here.”
Annika steps into my office. My eyes widen at the lavender minidress she’s wearing, her long wavy hair covering a full third of the dress’s skimpy length. Her long, tanned legs are bare and dazzling; they make my brain short circuit for a second.
The Queen Mother's expression turns thunderous. “You cannot wear that dress, Annika! If anyone sees you dressed like a street walker it’ll shame the entire royal family.”
Annika rolls her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. She purses her lips, looking at me.
“I’m too hungover for this. Are you feeling the same way?”
I favor her with a glower. “No.”
I’m lying; I absolutely am hungover as fuck, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Annika embarrass me in front of the Queen Mother.
The Queen Mother frowns. “Erik wasn’t stupid enough to let a bunch of paparazzi snap his picture, Annika. That was you. And you did it after I specifically told you not to cause any commotion.”
Annika scrunches up her face, pulling the remaining chair out and plopping down. “It wasn’t my fault. The photographers used trickery to force us to run out of the house.”
The Queen Mother arches a brow. “So? How can you not expect something terrible to happen when there is such an easy opportunity?”
Annika looks offended, her button nose wrinkling up. “I’m sorry, what? Are you saying that you expect me to suspect everyone at all times?”
The Queen Mother's expression grows pinched. She turns to me, smiling coolly. “I’ve decided that until Stellan’s wedding, you should be pulled off of your duties as Stellan’s private secretary. Instead, you will be in charge of making sure that Annika stays out of the newspapers.”
Annika makes an outraged noise. “No way!”
My heart thumps hard against the wall of my chest. My eyes widen slightly. I must’ve heard her wrong. “I’m sorry. Say that again?”
The Queen Mother shoots me a glare. “The royal family needs you to help make sure she stays below the radar.” Her lips thin. “If it makes it any more appealing, we could perhaps attach a title to it. Let’s say… if you are able to successfully keep her out of the papers for three months, you’ll get…” She pauses, thinking. “A duchy or something like that. Doesn’t that sound good?”
I’m stunned. It’s a generous offer, to be sure. My neck grows hot when I think about never working for Stellan again…
We wouldn’t be equals, but we would both be titled gentry. My hands form fists as I think it over.
“Umm, excuse me!” Annika waves her hands. “You can’t be serious right now. I do not need a babysitter. And I especially don’t need… him.”
Her whiny tone would hurt, if I actually gave a fuck about her feelings. Lucky for me, I don’t.
I scoot forward in my chair. “Tell me more about what you are asking. I would only have to keep the princess under control until the wedding?”
The Queen Mother shifts her position. “Yes. For three months. Keep her from creating any new drama of any sort. Let the media focus their attentions where they should be, on the King and Margot.”
I consider her words for a moment. “I see.”
Annika shoots to her feet. “You can’t really be thinking about taking Momse up on her offer, Erik.”
I cock a brow at her, frowning. “You don’t control what I do or say, Annika.”
She makes a frustrated noise, throwing herself back into her chair. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Annika!” the Queen Mother scolds.
I sigh. “She’s not wrong though, Your Royal Highness. I know I don’t have a lot of say in the matter, but if I have any sway at all… I don’t want this assignment.”
Annika’s brow pulls down. She huffs.
The Queen Mother levels me with an icy glare. “I don’t care what you want, Mr. Moen. You might have been raised as Stellan’s equal, but you are not. You are, at best, a step above the maid that cleans my rooms.”
Annika goes silent, her brows rising. For a moment, I’m stunned too.
I glower at the Queen Mother. “If you don’t mind me saying, that is a very simplistic view of the world you have.”