She raises her glass, and everyone else follows suit, this mishmashed group of people that has somehow become my family toasting us.
“I’m thrilled beyond belief you’ve finally found your way home. To Nora and Anderson.”
“Nora and Anderson,” everyone repeats.
I look at Anderson, who tips his flute toward mine. He curves into me, his breath warm on my lips.
“Here’s to our next adventure, love.”
I clink his glass. “To our next adventure.”
Chapter Three
Anderson
“Nora, darling,” I murmur into her neck, rousing her from sleep.
“We can’t be there already,” she replies in a scratchy voice.
“Almost. We’ll be landing in about an hour. I thought you might want to take the opportunity to freshen up beforehand.”
She groans, her eyes remaining closed. “It’s frowned upon to step off a plane with bedhead, isn’t it?”
I chuckle, brushing my lips against her temple. “You’re still gorgeous. While I doubt there will be many reporters at the airfield when we land, being in this life means always looking the part.”
She rolls over in the bed in the rear cabin of the private jet, her gaze meeting mine. “I’d prefer to play the part of an unknown New Yorker a little while longer.”
“Wouldn’t we all?” I smooth a few of her waves away from her face, cupping her cheek. “Are you nervous?”
“What do I have to be nervous about? It’s not like I’m flying in the royal family’s jet and moving to a country I’ve never been where I’ll have to trade my privacy and anonymity for the spotlight as the crown prince’s girlfriend, and eventually fiancée once you speak with your father.”
“Exactly,” I retort playfully. “You have absolutely nothing to be nervous about.”
Her laughter fills the space before her expression turns serene. “Even so, one thing is certain.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re worth any nerves I may experience.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I place a gentle kiss on her lips before standing and buttoning my suit jacket.
When she sees I’m already dressed, she furrows her brow. “How long have you been awake?”
“Not too long. I’ll give you some privacy to freshen up. I’ll have breakfast waiting when you’re ready.” I bend down and kiss her once more before walking toward the door.
My hand on the knob, I pause to appreciate her beauty one last time while she’s still the woman I met on Route 66. I can’t shake the premonition that the second this plane lands at the airfield in Belmont, everything will change. Nora will change.
On a long sigh, I slip out of the bedroom and into the bright cabin.
“Sir,” a voice says once I close the door.
I look up as Creed strides toward me, his dark eyes urgent. A military man with special ops training, he’s typically calm and collected, nothing usually causing him concern. Immediately, I know something’s wrong. Something I won’t like.
“What happened?”
He licks his lips, an uneasiness about him. “This just hit the wires about fifteen minutes ago.” He holds out his tablet.
I take it from him and read the headline. A wave of nausea pummels through me as I waver on my legs. I quickly place a hand on the top of a nearby seat, attempting to steady myself.
“Are you okay, Anders?” Creed asks in a low voice, shifting from my chief protection officer to childhood friend.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath, jaw tightening. “We were careful. I didn’t think anyone would even recognize me.”
“It appears it was simply a case of right place at the right time,” he answers, all business once more. “Or perhaps wrong place at the wrong time.”
I swallow hard, staring at the photo below the headline announcing to the world something I’d hoped to keep to myself a little longer. But that’s impossible now, especially when the photographer was able to capture the perfect angle, Nora’s left hand cupping my face as I kissed her on the sidewalk in front of our Upper West Side apartment building, a large diamond ring on a very important finger.
She’d started to take it off before we left our apartment, but I insisted she keep it on, give her a few more minutes to wear it before we needed to keep it a secret again.
I should have known better.
“Do I want to know what kind of backlash we’re facing?” I give the tablet back to Creed.
“Public perception is mixed. Some people aren’t thrilled at the idea of you being engaged to a foreigner. The American press is positive, so that’s a good thing. Unfortunately, Europe is a different story.”
“I figured as much.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. A muscle in my shoulder twitches, so I shift my stance, trying to shake it off.
“Sir, are you sure—”
“Anything else I need to be concerned about?” I interrupt before Creed can finish his question. I don’t want to hear it. Don’t want him verbalizing my own fears. That he’s noticed more and more signs of a potential flareup in my MS. Or worse, that my condition is deteriorating.
“There’s also the matter of the media.”
“The media?”
“A media contingent has assembled at the airport and is awaiting your arrival. I have a team handling it as we speak.”
I run a hand over my face, cursing myself for being so careless. I just wanted one last moment of feeling like a normal couple. But we’re not even on the ground yet and are already in the thick of it.
“I can arrange for your flight to be diverted to a different airfield.”
I vehemently shake my head. “That will look like I’m trying to hide something. We’re already on the defensive. No sense in giving them even more fodder to speculate on.”
“Agreed. So we’ll keep to our original plan, but there will be additional security present. Your private secretary, Lieutenant Colonel Bridge, will meet the plane to go over a game plan for your arrival.”
I inhale a deep breath I hope will calm me. All it does is increase my anxiety.
“What’s wrong?”
I snap my head up, my gaze settling on Nora standing in the doorway of the back cabin. She’s dressed in a knee-length, floral wrap dress, her hair in loose waves, makeup freshly applied.
How do I tell her our secret’s out? That the European media already seems to loathe her before we’ve even landed in Belmont?
“I’ll give you two some privacy.” Creed looks at Nora. “Ma’am.” Then he turns to me and bows his head. “Sir.” Spinning, he stalks toward the front of the plane, disappearing from view.
“Anders, what’s going on?”
I refocus my gaze on her. What I wouldn’t give to rewind the clocks to that moment in our New York apartment before we left. When I pinned her against the wall and kissed her like it was the last time I would. Now I fear it was. At least the last time she kissed Anderson North, the alter ego I travel under when I don’t want people to know who I am.
And the man Nora first met on Route 66 before I told her the truth.