20. Courtney
CHAPTER 20
COURTNEY
T he last bite of the chocolate mousse lingers on my tongue, rich and sweet, just like the evening has been so far. The restaurant, with its golden lights and intimate setting, is a scene straight out of a fairy tale — a fitting backdrop for a prince’s dinner.
Jakob’s gaze meets mine across the table, a stormy sea in his eyes that I’ve learned to navigate. “I want to tell you something,” he begins, his voice a soft baritone that commands attention even in whispers. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
My heart skips a beat, yet I stay silent, giving him the space he needs. He takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself against the tide.
“My life… it isn’t just about my work at the security department and charity balls and ribbon-cuttings. My siblings and I… we’re in a constant struggle for our father’s approval, vying for the throne.”
A piece of the puzzle falls into place, explaining the burden he often seems to carry on his shoulders, hidden behind the charming smiles.
“The sapphire necklace,” he continues, the words pained as if they’re thorns piercing his tongue. “I took it back to appease my father. It was never about hurting you, Courtney. I hope you believe that.”
There’s a sharp pang in my chest at the mention of the necklace, a reminder of betrayal. Yet, looking into Jakob’s earnest eyes, I see the regret, the internal war he is fighting between duty and desire. I understand — more than he realizes. Royal or not, we’re all prisoners to our family’s expectations in one way or another.
“Let’s go outside for a bit,” he suggests, perhaps sensing how hot it suddenly is getting in here. “The balcony?”
“Sure.” We’re done eating anyway, and I could do with moving around a bit.
We stand, and he offers me his hand, strong and reassuring. I take it, allowing his warmth to seep into my skin.
We step through the French doors onto the balcony, the night air refreshing and welcoming. The lights of the capital twinkle in the valley below, the image one that almost seems too perfect to be real.
The staff brings us two glasses of wine before retreating to give us some space, and I take a sip of the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the ruby liquid reflecting the starry sky. Tonight is so beautiful that it almost makes me sorry I will need to continue on with life after this. I wouldn’t mind being forced to live this evening over and over again through the rest of eternity.
With our glasses in hand, we lean against the balcony railing, shoulder to shoulder, and gaze out into the vastness above us. The stars gleam like diamond dust scattered across a canvas of midnight blue.
“Look,” Jakob says, pointing upwards. A streak of light zips across the sky — a shooting star, carving its brief journey for all to wish upon.
“Make a wish,” he says softly, his eyes not leaving the heavens.
A wish. Such a fanciful concept, yet here, with this man who is both forthright and an enigma, it seems fitting. I close my eyes, the star’s afterglow imprinted on my lids. I envision a life where moments like these stretch into eternity.
I wish that life could always be as amazing as it has been since I arrived in Bergovia. Despite the tangled web of royal expectations, the necklace drama, and family feuds, there’s an undeniable magic here — an enchantment woven through every street, every hint of history, and especially through Jakob.
“Did you make it?” Jakob asks.
“Made and sent off into the universe,” I reply with a smile, opening my eyes to find his gaze locked onto mine.
In this suspended moment, the world shrinks until it’s just the two of us. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining naturally, as if they’ve known each other for lifetimes. He steps closer, bending slightly… and then pauses.
“I’m sorry.” His fingers slip from mine, and he starts to step back, but it’s right then that I make a split-second decision to do what I’ve been aching to do for days.
Stepping forward, I press my lips against his.
The kiss is a soft question and a firm answer all at once. It speaks of apologies, of longing, and of new beginnings. Our breath mingles, our hearts sync, and the worries about lineage and duty momentarily dissolve. There’s just Courtney and Jakob — two people beneath a canopy of stars, daring to dream beyond the lives they were born into.
As we part, my heart thunders against my rib cage, echoing through the silence of the night. The city below us sleeps, oblivious to the walls crumbling down, to the silent wishes being cast into the sky. And for now, that’s okay, because up here, we’re untouchable, and maybe, just maybe, the wish I’ve clung to is already taking flight.
“Wow,” I breathe out, stealing a glance at the lips that were pressed against mine just a moment ago.
“More than wow,” Jakob says, his voice low. “Courtney, I know this might seem sudden, but I’m falling for you.”
His words send a wave of warmth cascading through me, melting away the icy tendrils of doubt. The future is an uncharted map, dotted with potential pitfalls, but at this moment, with his confession hanging between us, I feel a profound sense of peace.
“Well,” I say, allowing myself to linger in the possibility of us . “I’m scared, but… I’m falling too.”
We stand here, wrapped in each other’s gaze, until the chime of the clock from a distant tower calls us back to the passage of time. Jakob offers his hand, and I take it, our fingers lacing together as we step inside the now-empty restaurant.
“Now what?” he asks.
I bite into a smile. “Can we go somewhere? Somewhere we can be alone?”
His chest rises, and I hear his breath hitch. “My apartment. I stay there when I want to get away from the palace.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“It’s a bachelor pad,” he chuckles. “But I would love to show it to you.”
We say goodnight to the staff and exit the building, and he leads me to his car that is parked out front. The drive back into the city and through its streets feels different now; every turn, every cobblestone seems to carry a piece of our story.
He parks in a private garage, and we walk into a lobby that’s more luxurious than any place I’ve ever called home. The elevator ride to the top floor is quick, a silent ascent punctuated only by our intertwined fingers and shared anticipation.
When the doors open, Jakob guides me into his private sanctuary. It’s vast, with windows that offer a panoramic view of the city. Nighttime Bergovia is a tapestry of light and shadow, enchanting and alive.
“Wow,” I say again, stepping closer to the glass, drawn by the view.
“Like it?” he asks, coming up behind me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders.
“It’s beautiful,” I reply, leaning back into his embrace. “A fitting retreat for a prince.”
“Tonight,” he murmurs near my ear, “it’s just a man showing a woman his favorite view, hoping she likes it.”
I turn to face him, lost in the sincerity of his words, in the truth that perhaps love could be the bridge over the moat that has been dug between us.
“What do you like to do when you’re here?” I trail my fingers down his strong chest.
He grins. “Honestly? Listen to music.”
“What sort of music?” I smile back.
“I can show you.”
He pulls out his phone and selects a song. Soft melodies flow from the speakers, something sweet and slow, a song that seems to capture the very essence of the moment. He extends his hand, and I take it, allowing him to draw me into the center of the living room.
“May I have this dance?” he asks, a playful formality in his voice.
“Of course,” I reply, my heart picking up its pace, not just from the closeness but from the anticipation of what this dance might symbolize.
He leads with a gentle confidence, one arm securely around my waist, the other holding my hand. We move together in time with the music, a slow waltz that carries us across the polished floor. The world beyond his apartment fades until there’s nothing but the two of us, swaying in a rhythm that feels as old as time and as new as the feelings blossoming in my chest.
I lay my head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. My fingers brush against the fabric of his jacket, the texture grounding me in the reality that this is not a dream, but a tangible, heart-stopping moment with a man who has stepped out of a fairy tale and into my life.
The doubts that had been pulling at the edges of my mind begin to quiet as we continue to dance. With each step, I feel more anchored in the present, letting go of the uncertainties about our future. Jakob’s heartbeat is steady against my ear, a testament to the calmness that flows off of him.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his breath warm on my hair.
“More than okay,” I whisper back, not daring to lift my head lest the magic of the evening dissipates with the movement.
In his embrace, under the soft glow of his apartment lights, with the night sky watching over us, I wonder if this is the beginning of the wish I made on the shooting star coming true. Not a wish for crowns or gilded thrones, but a simple, earnest yearning for moments like these — where love is a dance, tender and true, and the future is a guaranteed promise of more good things to come.
“Thank you for this,” I say, my voice barely above the music, wanting him to know how much this night means to me.
“Thank you for being here,” he replies, as if I’ve given him a gift greater than my presence, as if my willingness to share this dance has brought something precious into his world too.
And maybe it has. For both of us.