Chapter 23
twenty-three
PARKER
I stood in the receiving line, awaiting the arrival of the Queen, her son, and her nephews. I knew we would also receive the Neandian Queen and Prince Consort. I prepared to do my best, most diplomatic bow. I did not expect to see Astrid appear on the arm of the Prince of Wales. She was smiling, dazzling, and looking beautiful in a long dress—the whole package. Who was this woman? The same woman who stood before me that day now glittered.
She was gorgeous, but her smile thrilled me. She was confident , and I was drawn to her. Then, I realised I must soon bow to her. It wasn't that I refused. It was just about to be very awkward. She approached. My mother elbowed me.
“Is that the sister?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“She's pretty.”
Yes, she was. She was breath-taking, infuriating, and exhausting as ever. But damn, if I didn't want to stare at her!
The Queen and Duke approached. They each bowed, followed by Queen Alexandra—also very pretty—and Prince Consort Rikard. Then, Astrid came on the arm of Prince Duncan. They were speaking about something first, so I thought I'd escape without her noticing me.
Astrid did a double take. She recognised me. And as she did, she pretended like I didn't exist. Somehow, it only made me want her more! It was infuriating! Astrid annoyed me, but when she pretended I didn’t exist, I felt called to catch her eye.
Astrid arrived tonight diadem-dripping and with a grin plastered on her face. She waltzed and held conversations with every prince in the room. There was steep competition for her affections. Here, the tables turned. She was the most eligible, elegant single woman in the room. The annoyingly superior first-year postgrad had gone full swan. Her ascent intimidated me, but I wouldn’t let her win and ignore me. I got brave. As Niall said, I had to try . And given I felt a spark at the party, I knew there was more to this than a ceasefire—more than coexisting at work.
I met Astrid as she came off the floor. She looked past in avoidance, but she was in a social bind. Society deemed she must entertain the interests of the respectable men in attendance. The same social norms that dictated I must be my most debonair also demanded she give me the time of day. Her job was to be charming , which didn’t come naturally to her.
“Would you like to dance, Your Royal Highness?”
Arms crossed, Astrid sighed. “I don't know why you are asking. Have we not?—”
“It's just a dance, Astrid.”
“Astrid?”
“Your Royal Highness,” I said.
She wanted the upper hand. In this domain, she could pull rank. I didn't expect her cold retort, assuming she’d instead save face.
Astrid looked around and relented.
Face pulled tight, she agreed. “Sure.”
We picked up a waltz.
“You don't have to act like we're friends, Your Grace.”
“Well, ma'am, I do. You know we're being watched. We won a major award together. Can we not at least feign being mates for a minute to impress people?”
Her shoulders became less rigid. She came down from her defensiveness. “We must do so for the sake of our professional futures. I expect you can agree on that point.”
“Why are you so invested?” I asked. “What is the endgame?”
“At Shalebrook?”
I nodded.
“I want something for myself and to be treated like a normal person. I want to have a job and live a semi-normal life—if even for a moment. I get to do that as the spare. What about you?”
She turned the tables.
“I want much of the same,” I kept it general. “I'm just Parker there. And I am good at academic work. I can lose myself in it.”
A slight smile crossed her face. The more I saw it, the better it became. She had a beautiful grin—one that could melt you. I unconsciously pulled her closer, but she didn't fight me. In this little fishbowl—this alternate universe—we were different people playing by archaic rules.
Princess Astrid unexpectedly tempted me. I couldn't look away. As her hips swayed, I thought about how it would feel to pull them close and press my lips to hers. The urge made me uncomfortable but also alive again. The feelings from the party bubbled back up. I wondered if it would continue in real life when she was just Astrid Deschamps—formerly Latte Girl. When the song ended, I desperately wanted to kiss her. I almost got brave enough until Astrid’s body tightened. Her smile faded as she dropped my hand.
“Thank you,” Astrid said. “Full dance card. Must go.”