Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Margot
Istep off the luxurious private jet onto the tarmac, pulling my sunglasses onto my face.
Kristiansund spills out beneath my view like an inky puddle; I can see the coastline spreading out a couple of miles down from where I’m standing, bright green grass meeting the cobalt blue sea.
In the distance, I can make out yellow and red and white cottages.
This looks like a sleepy little fishing village.
I shiver against the wind. We’re so far north in Norway that the weather is quite brisk. The flight attendant is right behind me with my bags. I try to take them at the bottom of the stairs.
“Here, let me help,” I offer.
I can immediately tell from the puzzled look on his face that I’m not actually supposed to take my bags. When he speaks, his English sounds clipped. He’s Finnish or Norwegian, maybe.
“Let me take them over to the car for you,” he says, smiling despite his bafflement. In his tidy-looking steward’s uniform, he is the very picture of propriety right now.
“Right,” I mutter, trailing along behind him. Raising my eyes to the limousine that awaits me, I allow myself to be ushered into the back. “Thank you!” I manage to call to the steward.
He tilts his head and a vaguely disapproving expression appears on his face. He inclines his head. “Have a pleasant journey, Miss Keane.”
I never even got his name.
That’s what I think about while the limo takes me down into the village, down cobbled streets as little white and yellow houses zoom by my view. That, and how I got here.
The note is still in my tote bag.
Come with me for the weekend.
Pack a bag. — S
Five hours later, feeling remarkably hassled even though I was just on a private jet, here I am. The limousine pulls to a halt outside of an adorable little red cottage and I get out, heaving a sigh.
Stellan called. He’s my assignment.
That’s the reason I came. The only reason. After parting ways the other night, I didn’t hear from him for five days. Five interminably long days.
I wasn’t entirely sure I would hear from him ever again, period. And yet here Stellan is, opening the door when I knock. He smiles coolly, stepping back and welcoming me in.
“Come on,” he says, his lips carefully pursed. “Don’t let all the heat out.”
My nose twitches at the tone of his voice; he sounds commanding, not inviting. Heaving another sigh, I walk into a cozy, bright kitchen area. It’s all done in teal and baby pink, a decorator after my own heart.
The driver leaves my bags by the door and leaves without a word. Stellan just skirts around the marble kitchen island and heads out of the room. I hate when he expects me to follow him without asking any questions.
Grinding my teeth, I trail his wake into a living area.
Sunlight spills into the room from a window that stretches almost from one wall to the other.
A bright white couch sits against the wall to my far right, piled high with cozy-looking afghans and soft pillows.
To my left is a little table that doubles as a chess board and two chairs pulled up to it.
Straight ahead, I can see that there is a hallway, probably containing the bedrooms and the bathroom. Stellan is already throwing himself onto the couch, so I pull one of the chairs out. Sitting down, I cock my head at him. “So?”
He squints. “So what?”
A huffed laugh leaves me. “I’m here. You summoned me after putting me on the back burner for most of the week. Now what?”
He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I don’t have any plans. I just had a really busy week, so…” He shrugs one shoulder. “That’s the only reason I didn’t call you sooner.”
I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. “So your sudden coolness has nothing to do with the fact that you kissed me last week?”
He looks tiredly out the window, sighing.
“No, Margot. I don’t understand you, really.
You reject my advances… but still you expect me to treat you like a friend, as opposed to a nosy fucking reporter.
” He peers at me. “Which you are, by the way.” He stands up suddenly, looking fierce.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be my friend? ”
“Yes.” I uncross my arms and sit forward, leaning my elbows on my knees.
“Stellan…” When he looks over at me, I take a steadying breath.
“You realize that I’m just trying to keep us both safe, right?
I’m attracted to you. You are attracted to me.
And that would be good enough if you were anyone else.
But… you’re not. You’re the crown prince of fucking Denmark. ”
Stellan looks at me, his ice blue eyes threatening to pierce me through to the core. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’m aware of that every fucking second of every single day? No one will let me forget it.”
I falter. He seems to be in pain. Or maybe it’s just a weariness that comes with carrying the burden of being the prince. I don’t know which.
“I’m sorry, Stellan. I really am.” Sitting back in the wooden chair, I watch him recompose his facial expression. He wipes away all the traces of sadness. What’s left is a face I recognize all too well.
He looks remote. Withdrawn. Untouchable.
My fingers itch with the need to touch him, to tell him that things will be okay. Even though I know that saying that might just be a pretty, comforting lie.
I have less control over this situation than anybody else, honestly.
He turns to me, changing the subject as if the entire conversation before now simply never happened. “Do you want to go for a walk? Maybe we could go down by the shoreline. There is a little restaurant there that I always patronize whenever I am here.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here and talk some more?” I ask.
He pins me with his gaze. “I couldn’t be more certain.” He heads to the hallway in the back, leaving me to bite my lip and wonder what exactly is going on in his head. Is he still upset about the other night?
Or is he really just switching tracks like he changed subjects?
Stellan reappears, zipping a light raincoat up over his dark wool sweater. He eyes me in my dark leather jacket, short black skirt, and neon pink tights. “Are you going to be warm enough?”
I scowl at his question. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He shrugs. “Come on, then.”
He strides out of the room and through the kitchen, making me scurry to keep up with him. He’s out of the door and into the cool air in seconds. I follow, shivering a little at the shock of going from the warmth of the house out into the chilly atmosphere.
Stellan turns back and sees me shiver. His eyes narrow. “I told you.”
I grit my teeth and stick my hands in my pockets. “It’s fine. Keep leading the way, like you always do.”
He squints at me, then casts a look around the cobblestone street we are on. “Yeah, all right. Whatever that means. Come on, will you?”
I start marching downhill and Stellan falls in beside me. His eyes are on the horizon as we walk. I look at the green grass and the brown shoreline, only a quarter of a mile away. They are fitted so snugly with the blue-black ocean, each affecting the other’s shaping.
At length, I scrunch my face up and look at him. “So is this how it usually works? You do five intense days of hand shaking and autograph signing, then you are allowed to jet off to one of the royal family’s getaways for the weekend?”
He sighs. “Ja, more or less. Usually Erik is with me when I escape.”
I nod slowly. “And where is he this time?”
His shoulders lift in a shrug. “No idea. He said he had something he wanted to do. I didn’t press him for details. Besides… it’s nice to be alone once in a while.”
I look at him oddly. “You’re not alone, Stellan.
You’re with me.” I scrunch up my nose. “I guess you are used to having a staff at your beck and call, Erik reminding you of appointments, a hundred people always wanting to shake hands with you. I’m starting to think that you have no real idea of what being alone is like. ”
He looks unamused. “Maybe I don’t. Or maybe this weekend is about me, inviting you into my solitude.”
My eyebrows lift. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
He lifts his head, nodding to a building in the distance. “I want to stop in there for a second. Wait for me.”
Stellan jogs off toward it, leaving me alone to think about what he said. My mouth twists. I guess there is a wealth of things I don’t understand about his life, just the same way as he can’t possibly fathom every single thing about mine.
No, it’s not just that, actually. It’s more that I won’t let him in to find out all the secrets about my past that I’ve buried. I don’t want him to know just how poor I used to be. I don’t want anyone to realize how fucking sad I am deep down either.
My cell phone beeps in the pocket of my leather coat. Shaking my head, I pull it out and read the screen. It’s from an unknown number, but I have no doubt that Anna sent it.
I just got off the phone with a friend of a friend who says that you and Stellan were kissing at a club last week. That’s interesting, isn’t it?
Before I can respond, she sends another message.
I think that warrants a more thorough search of your background. After all, you are cozying up to the crown prince… What do you think I will find?
My face heats. I block the unknown number, furious.
How dare Anna imply that I’m out to seduce Stellan for financial reasons? The whole idea is so wrong that it takes every ounce of willpower not to throw a tantrum right here and now.
For all the good that would do…
Stellan emerges from the shop, each hand holding a little white pastry bag. He hands one to me and continues his walk down to the shore.
“Umm…” The bag is warm in my hands. I get a whiff of vanilla and sweet baked bread. “Thanks?”
I hurry to follow him, peeling away the pastry bag to reveal a sort of creamy yellow custard overflowing it’s donut container. He takes a bite and moans.
“It’s so good.” He chews for a moment. “They are called skolebr?d and they are the best thing to come out of Norway, period.”
I take a small bite, managing to get custard and powdered sugar absolutely everywhere. It’s yeasty and sugary, custardy but light. My eyes light up. “Oh, that is good.”
He smirks at me. “Don’t say I never bought you anything.”
And with that comment he starts walking faster, leaving me and my short legs woefully behind. I smile ruefully at his comment, then savor another bite of the pastry.