Crowning His Convenient Princess
Yet again, she ignored the searing heat in her body, and affected an incredibly bored expression. “Yes, yes. I and the rest of the world are aware of the fact that you are shocking, and love to engage in edgy sexual activity. I promise you that if a double entendre presents itself you do not have to be so obvious as to speak it.”
“Oh, but I enjoy being obvious.”
“Do you?” she asked. “Because I would say that the fact you own your own company was not obvious at all.”
She hadn’t intended to bring that up.
In fact, she had every intention of ignoring it completely in the conversation today, if only to spite him slightly. And herself. Because the fact that he was a secret mogul fascinated her. And the one thing she was eternally trying to ignore when it came to Gunnar was her fascination with him. And anything that seemed to foster further fascination she resented.
There was something about him that enticed her to act in ways she knew she should not. She didn’t like it. It made her feel like she was not above the rest of the female population of the world in any way at all. And she liked to think that she wasn’t that basic.
“That’s the trick,” he said. “Be obvious enough over here that you can have your secrets where you choose.”
“I see.” She took a breath. “Well. That aside.” She shuffled through the folder and plucked out one. “I would choose…these.”
“Explanations,” he demanded, taking the stack of folders in his hand. “Or do I have to do everything myself.”
“You have done absolutely nothing for yourself since I walked in,” she said.
“That isn’t true. I’ve been breathing the entire time. I’m keeping myself alive. For which you and the rest of the world should be supremely grateful.”
“I’m about to expire from gratitude,” she said. “The first candidate is Hannah Whitman, an English rose. She will compliment you well. Though, your progeny will likely burst into flames in the sun.”
He laughed, explosive and deep, hitting her in unexpected places.
“Well,” he said. “Melanin deficit aside, she is pretty. And what attributes do you suppose she would bring to our alliance?”
“She’s extremely wealthy in her own right, her family is very successful in manufacturing. She has started several charities, with a focus on educating children with special needs. She is more than willing to do the work, not simply write a check.”
“I imagine that means there are many photographs of her with grateful children.”
“You are correct. She is a light to all the world.”
“Well, I have always thought that one’s wife should be able to double as a flashlight.”
“Best of all,” Latika continued, “she’s scandal free.”
“Excellent. Because I have enough scandals for ten people. It’s one thing I do not need a wife to bring to our marriage.”
“Next is Lily Addington.”
“Another Brit?”
“Yes. Her family owns horses.”
He frowned. “That sounds like an awful lot of time spent at racetracks.”
“Would you not find that enjoyable?”
“No. I prefer my gambling to take place in a casino. It’s much more civilized.”
“All right. Bim Attah. She is a Nigerian heiress and UN ambassador for women’s rights. She has a PhD from Oxford, and has been instrumental in supplying feminine hygiene products to impoverished girls throughout the world.”
He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. “She sounds a bit overqualified, don’t you think? PhD. I’m not sure I’m equal to that task.”
“You have a title. I suspect that in many ways that outstrips a PhD.”
“One you are born with,” he pointed out. “One you must work for.”
She arched a brow. “Shall I take her off the list?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I feel nothing if not entitled to things that might be too good for me. Leave her on the list.”
She cycled through the rest of them quickly with Gunnar vetoing all but numbers one and three.
“Okay,” she said, sighing heavily. “I will attempt to arrange a meeting for you. Whatever you do, try not to be yourself when you meet them.”
“I never am,” Gunnar said. “Why, when there are so many other interesting people to choose to be?”
Latika gritted her teeth. “Why indeed.”
She turned away from him, and her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down and saw that it was an unknown number.
“Oh, don’t decline the call on account of me,” Gunter said. “There’s no need to worry about manners in my presence.”
“I wouldn’t,” she said, answering the phone decisively. It had nothing to do with her anyway. She worked for Astrid, and she couldn’t afford to miss any kind of communication just in case.
“Hello?”
“Latika Bakshmi.”
The voice was strange, low and husky, and something about the accent sent a familiar sliver of dread beneath Latika’s skin.
“Yes?”
“Check your email.”
The line went dead. Latika lowered the phone and stared at it, feeling like she lost herself for a full thirty seconds. She had no sense of where she was, or what she was doing.
Until she felt the intensity of Gunnar’s gaze on the side of her face. She looked toward him. “What?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve gone very pale.”
“No. A strange phone call. Likely a prank of some kind.” She tried to force a smile. In spite of herself, she swallowed hard and guided her thumb over the email icon on her phone.
She prayed that Gunnar didn’t notice the slight tremble in her hands.
She did indeed have a new email.
From an address she didn’t recognize. She opened the email, it had one line of text. And a photograph.
So there you are.
And beneath those words was a picture. Zoomed in tightly and cropped close. Latika could just see the edge of Astrid’s dress, and that gave her an indication of the event.
The wedding.
Astrid and Mauro’s wedding. Latika had been standing just behind the Queen, and she had been sure that she was not in any sort of limelight position. She had been with Astrid for nearly four years and never had been.
But they had found her. Finally.
She swallowed hard, fear like lead in her stomach.
The worst part was, it hadn’t been her parents who had found her. She was sure of that. Because while her parents would have happily hauled her away from her newfound life, they wouldn’t engage in this level of theatrics. That she knew.
They would still cling to the idea that this was all for her own good, for their own good as well, but also for hers. They would lie to her, lie to themselves, all the while using soft, soothing voices and telling her to think of the future.
No, this kind of threatening language was definitely the work of the man who was supposed to be her husband by now.
The man she had run away from.
The man she would rather die than find herself joined to.
Latika took a breath and put her hands down, holding her phone closely to her thigh.
“What is it?” Gunnar asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I will make the necessary inquiries, and make arrangements for you to meet these women. In fact, I think we will organize a ball.”
“A ball?”
“Yes. For all the eligible ladies in the file.”
“I said that I’m only interested in these two.”
“But why limit your options, Your Highness. You’re correct. The chemistry that you may feel with one of them is important to explore. Allow me to take care of it. I will handle everything.”
Her mind was spinning as she walked out of Gunnar’s office. On the one hand, creating such a spectacle around the country at this time was possibly unwise. But on the other hand… Well, on the other hand an event like this would necessitate an increase in security. And with so many eyes on the country, she imagined that Ragnar would be loath to attempt to take her now.
No, he preferred to do things secretly. In the dark of night, essentially.
His position as Norwegian nobility mattered far too much for him to go and create bad blood between himself and the Royals in Bjornland.
And in truth, Latika had counted on that. Always. When she had first come to Astrid for the job, it had been on her mind. The fact that Bjornland was politically involved with Norway, and that it would put Ragnar in a bad position should he cross the Queen, had mattered to her.
Because she needed protection.
The palace guards would provide it. The increased attention would provide it. She had to believe that.
The alternative was far too awful to consider.
CHAPTER THREE
THE ENSUING WEEK was a whirlwind. At least, it looked as though it were one for Latika.
Gunnar did nothing but sit back and enjoy the show.
Over breakfast one morning, Astrid commented on it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her work so hard at anything. And that’s saying quite a bit.”
“Yes, she has taken control of the task admirably,” he said, not rising to his sister’s bait. Because he knew there was bait. Even if he wasn’t sure what the hook buried in said bait was meant to drag him toward.
“Are you assisting her at all?” Astrid asked.
“Do you assist her in the planning of parties?”
Astrid gave him an icy look. “She is my assistant.”
At that moment, Astrid’s husband came into the room holding Gunnar’s nephew. It had taken Gunnar a time to accept his brother-in-law. He had not trusted the man at first, but then, given the way that his sister had met him, Gunnar felt he could hardly be blamed.
Astrid had engaged in subterfuge, essentially tricking Mauro into getting her pregnant. And when he had discovered the ruse, Mauro had been decisive in his action. He had demanded that Astrid marry him, and that, was what Gunnar had taken exception to.
The man was common born, and it wasn’t as if Gunnar was any sort of snob, but he had grave concerns about anyone seeking to use his sister. As it had turned out, his feelings for Astrid had been genuine and their marriage had become a very happy one.
But, Gunnar was still getting used to the situation.
“That’s different,” Astrid said, rising from her seat and crossing the room, giving Mauro a kiss on the cheek before taking her son into her arms. “You should be helping her. Since she is helping you clean up your mess.”
For Astrid.
He wasn’t going to say that. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him. And were it not for his sister, he would happily go on not caring.
“I’m sorry, what exactly did you want me to do?” he asked. “Ensure that the punch is spiked?”
“I don’t know, something that wouldn’t send my assistant to an early grave. Since I am quite attached to her.”
“Yes,” he said. “Something that I’m not sure I understand. You seem more fond of her than you are of me at times. And yet, for all I can tell, Latika seems to lack a sense of fun, or humor.”
“That’s a phenomenon that only presents itself in your presence, Gunnar. I find her amusing and delightful.” His sister’s gaze was glued to him. “Perhaps it’s just you.”
“Everybody likes me.”
“Everyone thinks you can do something for them. That’s different. I don’t think Latika cares one way or the other whether or not you can do something for her.”
That wasn’t true. Everyone was an opportunist. And everyone would use a person if the need was great enough. He’d learned that early, and he’d learned it well.
Nothing could insulate you when someone decided to use you as a tool. Not even family. Not even blood.
“She works for you. If she needs a favor… You’re the one she’ll go to,” he pointed out.
“Are you implying she doesn’t actually like me?”
“Did you not just imply that none of my friends actually like me?”
“Are either of you going to threaten to have the guards shoot the other this time?” Mauro asked, his brother-in-law’s expression one of amusement.
“Probably not,” Astrid said.
“The two of you make me so sad that I was an only child,” Mauro said.
“I can see where you would be jealous,” Astrid responded serenely.
They settled in to eat breakfast then, and Gunnar was bemused by the domesticity before him. It was difficult to imagine himself settling into such a life.
And yet, he didn’t think it would make him entirely miserable. Of course, he would never feel for his wife the way that Mauro and Astrid seemed to feel for each other.
And there would be no children in his marriage.
The line was guaranteed to continue without his help, and he was not the heir. Therefore the task wasn’t his.
After the childhood he’d endured, he had no interest in exploring the relationship between a parent and child again. Even from the opposite side.
The door opened, and Latika entered, her black hair swept back into a twist, her makeup sedate. And yet, she glowed. He ignored the tightness that he felt in his stomach. In his groin.
“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” she said. “Queen Astrid, we have an appointment with your stylist. We must ensure that you are appropriately outfitted for the ball.”
“What about me?” Gunnar asked.
“You will wear a black suit,” Latika said, each word crisp.
She was like a tart apple. Then he desperately wanted to take a bite of her.
It was a shame. For with this new endeavor now before him, he never would.
For years now, his dearest fantasy had been getting down on his knees before his sister’s prim assistant, pushing one of her tight pencil skirts up around her hips and draping her legs over his shoulder, her back against the wall, as he licked his way into her center.
As if she sensed his thoughts, her gaze landed on his, locked there. She looked startled, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“It seems to me that you are avoiding having to dress me,” he said.
“I’m not avoiding anything,” she said. “Believe me, Gunnar, if you required dressing, I would accommodate. I’m sorry if that wounds your fragile masculinity in any way.”
“Good to know,” he said.
On a tightlipped smile, Latika turned and walked out of the room.
Astrid fixed her cold gaze on him. “Can you not deliberately poke at her with a stick?”
“I’m not poking her.”
“You’re a pain in the ass. She’s been through enough without you harping on her constantly. Be a decent human being.”
“That is, dear sister, the point of all of this.”
If he could not fashion himself into a decent human in the realest sense, he would make himself look like one.
In his world, facade was better than reality anyway.
Two hours after the encounter with Gunnar in the dining room had left Latika trembling and feeling hollowed out, she found herself standing in Astrid’s chamber while her friend tried on a myriad of dresses.
“It seems strange,” Astrid said, currently admiring a white gown with delicate silver beading that clung to her curves. “To draw attention to myself on what should be a ball in my brother’s honor.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “I can see that. But you know, it is about improving the way people look at all of Bjornland. We have essentially put out a call to all the eligible ladies of the world that Prince Gunnar is looking to settle down. The media attention alone demands that you shine above all else. Especially all those eligible ladies. It won’t do to have anyone in attendance be more beautiful than the Queen.”
Astrid laughed. “I imagine there will be a great many women there who are more beautiful. My brother attracts rare beauties like honey attracts bees.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Pity he is not actually sweet.”
“I don’t think anyone would find him half so compelling if he were.”
Compelling.
That was an appropriate word for the man.
Of course, there were other words too. None of them fit for polite company.
“I think this color washes me out,” Astrid said. She looked over at the rack that was entirely filled with gowns. “And that orange would be hideous on me. It would look lovely on you.”
She gestured to a gown with a long bodice and a full, sheer skirt that gathered at the side, with a close fitted lining beneath. It was orange, with shimmering gold geometric detail over the top of it.
And, Latika knew she would look good in it.
But, she needed stay in the background. Desperately.
“I think I will opt for something black,” she said decisively.
“Well,” Astrid said. “I will not. I would look like a ghost.”
Astrid sighed and then looked over at Latika thoughtfully. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Latika said.
“You don’t look fine. In fact, you seem very tense. And not simply because you’re planning a party. Usually, you enjoy that.”
“Well, it’s just Gunnar. You know he and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. But it’s normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Except the threats to her safety. But she was choosing to handle that herself.
Astrid blinked. “Yes. I do know that the two of you get on like angry ants trapped in a jar. I also don’t think that’s the real problem.”
“Why?” Latika asked.
“Because I know you. Because we’re friends. Latika, don’t you trust me?”
Latika shifted uncomfortably. “Of course I do.”
“Are you upset about Gunnar getting married?”
Latika sputtered. “What?”
“I’m not a fool,” Astrid said. “I know that he irritates you, but I also know that there is something underneath that. I can never tell if the two of you are going to start yelling at each other, or start tearing each other’s clothes off.”
Latika stiffened, her face getting hot. The fact that Astrid had noticed that she carried some sort of shameful…fascination with Gunnar was truly alarming. It was somewhat refreshing to be able to be alarmed about something other than the email she’d received a few days ago, though, she would not have chosen this. “I can honestly say that I am not upset about Gunnar choosing to get married.”
“Then what is it? Please don’t tell me it’s to do with your parents.”
Latika sighed. “Not as such.”
“It’s related to that, though.”
“I… I have reason to believe that my former fiancé knows where I am.”
“Latika, that’s terrible. You should have told me immediately. I will do whatever I have to, to protect you.”
“And I will do whatever I need to, to protect you. You don’t need to worry about me, or the issues that I’m having. The scandals in my life were never meant to touch you.”
“That’s not how friendship works,” Astrid said. “Yes, you have been an employee, but more than that. And you know it. You are the single best friend I’ve ever had. It’s because of you that I found my husband.”
“In fairness,” Latika said, “it was highly unlikely any of that would work, and I feel it was only a stroke of incredible luck that saw it all come together. Or fate, perhaps. But either way, I cannot take credit. And had everything gone awry, I would have been responsible for your most disastrous decision ever. We could have damaged the whole of the country over a one-night stand.”
“But it was meant to be,” Astrid said. “And you trusted me. You trusted me when I said I needed your help, and believe me, the people in my life who have trusted me, who have taken me at my word, have been in short supply. For the most part, people have doubted I know my own mind because I am a woman. Really, only you and Gunnar, and my mother, ever treated me as though I had the head on my shoulders required to run a country. Or, to make any decisions on my own.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Well.”
It was one of the difficult things about Gunnar. He had always been incredibly supportive of his sister. And though he had been angry over the incident with Mauro, and Latika colluding with Astrid to sneak her into his club so that she might engage his services in the making of an heir, in many ways, Latika couldn’t blame him. And indeed, would possibly respect him less if he’d had no issue with it whatsoever.
Latika had helped Astrid accomplish that for her own reasons, but it certainly wasn’t in the interest of her finding love with Mauro. No. It was only that she understood what it was like to feel that you had no power in your own life.
An ancient law written into the code of the land of Bjornland had stated that the Queen could declare herself the sole parent of her issue. With that goal in mind, Astrid had set out to get pregnant by the most disreputable man on the planet, thinking he would want nothing to do with the child. Of course, he had. And Astrid had not ended up with a child, and no man, but with a husband. One that she loved very dearly. Nothing had gone quite as they planned, but in many ways, it had gone better.
Latika had never seen Astrid so happy.
And that—she had concluded—was what happened when people were allowed to live. To make their own choices.
To make their own mistakes.
Sometimes even a mistake—in the end—was perfectly all right because it led you to where you had always been meant to be.
But choice, that was what Latika wanted. Eventually. A life of her choosing, with a man of her choosing.
She wanted children.
Watching Astrid with Mauro all those desires had only become more pronounced.
She was tired of surviving.
And with Ragnar coming after her those dreams seemed farther away than ever. Dreams other people took for granted.
“What can I do to protect you?” Astrid said. “Your problems are mine. Because we are friends.”
“Honestly, this ball is going to offer me a modicum of protection I would not have access to if it weren’t for my position here. We will, of course have to increase security. Seeing as we are inviting every eligible woman in the world to come and have a chance with Gunnar. And those who haven’t met him will surely jump at the opportunity.”
Astrid erupted into a peal of laughter. “You do protest too much, Latika.”
“Perhaps my protestations are honest,” she said.
“You find my brother attractive. Whether you want to admit it or not.”
“A spider can be beautiful in its web,” Latika said. “But that doesn’t mean I want it on my skin.”
Astrid shook her head. “But see, that’s where you have him wrong. He’s not a spider. Any more than you’re a fly. A predator, possibly. But maybe more like the wolves we have here in the mountains. Deadly if necessary, surely. But more than willing to put everything on the line to protect his pack. Gunnar is a true alpha. Leader and protector.”
“Perhaps that’s the problem,” Latika said. “It is difficult for two alphas to get involved.”
“That would be the story of my marriage,” Astrid said. “But what Mauro and I have learned is that sometimes it can be quite pleasurable to let the other take the lead.”
“Yes, well.” Latika firmed her lips into a straight line. “I will take the lead by finding some other woman for Gunnar to harass.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wear this?” Astrid asked, gesturing to the orange gown again.
“No,” Latika returned. “I am not one of the women vying for your brother’s attention, and I will not dress like one. It would have to be a moment of true crisis in order for me to turn to him.”
“Well, let us hope we had don’t have any crises ahead of us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE EVENING OF the ball, everything was going according to plan. Latika could find no fault with anything.
And she ignored the orange and gold gown that Astrid had sent up for her, in favor of a long, formfitting black dress and simple gold accessories. She would look appropriate, and she would blend.
And that was the idea.
She bustled around, making sure that everything was in place, pacing the length of the ornate ballroom, examining it from the gilt-edged ceilings, all the way down to the marble floors.