Chapter Two #3
The rap on the door came again, and she started through the living room and into the hallway.
As she passed the windows that looked out onto the rooftops of the centuries-old buildings, she mentally scolded herself for spending precious minutes dwelling on the past when the current situation presented an array of problems to worry about. She still had no strategy.
Livia came to a stop in front of the door, took a deep breath and opened it.
The royal guard poured in, giving her quick nods before they spread out through the apartment.
The place wasn’t large, just a two-bedroom down a narrow stone street inside the walls of the Old City.
Livia listened to the clatter of footsteps on her wood floors and the murmur of voices as her own heart thudded in her chest. Any minute, Edvin would walk in the door.
It was ridiculous to dread this encounter, she told herself.
She would find a way to gently suggest that he delay the marriage, and her escape plan would work.
Even if, at the moment, she could not think of a single argument why he should agree.
Even if eleven months was a long way off and her plan had felt more and more precarious over the last eighteen days.
Even worse, she genuinely had no interest in seeing the man she was supposed to marry, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.
She had tried to figure out why Edvin had not pushed them toward the altar—and her father’s money—before now.
He had responded to Livia’s request to take their relationship slowly by saying he would enjoy the time getting to know her better.
Though he was making no effort to do so.
Was he doing his own behind-the-scene maneuverings? Or was he just enjoying the kinds of indiscretions his father was known for? Livia supposed it didn’t matter.
She tugged at her hair tie, letting her dark hair tumble down her back, then glanced down at her outfit—an oversized jumper in her favorite shade of green and silky gray lounge pants.
Comfortable? Definitely. Ideal for her fourth-ever face-to-face meeting with Crown Prince Edvin af Isborg?
Not at all, according to her royal tutor.
But it didn’t matter. He was marrying her father’s money, not her.
Even if she showed up in a gorilla suit, Edvin would likely give her the exact same haughty politeness he always had.
But as much as Livia wanted to test that theory, she needed to play along for now. Even if it was painful to pretend.
Livia closed her eyes and took a long, calming breath.
Suddenly, she was aware that the flurry of noise had stopped.
Something in the warm summer air shifted, and she opened her eyes.
He was there, standing in her tiny entryway in front of her.
Her breath caught in her throat. Because it wasn’t Edvin.
It was him.
It was Gustav. She couldn’t breathe. But it couldn’t be him, she told herself.
Even if all the differences between Edvin and Gustav seemed to disappear.
All except one. Because never had she felt this liquid rush of attraction for Edvin.
Her memories must’ve all been warping because the color of his eyes was different, so much more like…
Livia folded her arms and gave herself a little pinch.
This was not Gustav, despite the fact that his eyes now looked more gray than blue.
Despite the fact that he seemed taller. Leaner.
Despite the fact that he was studying her with an intensity that made her feel things she’d never, ever felt in Edvin’s presence. She felt naked. Raw.
You’re imagining this.
“Livia.”
Livia reminded herself to focus on the differences, not the similarities, between the crown prince’s voice and his half brother’s.
This voice was deeper than the one lodged in her mind from eight years ago.
And the candid pictures of Gustav’s wilder moments she had caught glimpses of over the years made him look…
No, she couldn’t let herself go down this path, not when this couldn’t be Gustav.
The man in front of her had nothing in common with the teenager who had listened to her dreams and then kissed her as if she was the only thing he had ever wanted.
Livia had tried to drive a wedge between past and present, and it worked. Or at least it had, until now, when all the differences seemed to have disappeared the moment this man had entered her apartment. That freefall in her stomach wouldn’t leave her alone.
It was the beard. The beard was obscuring the differences between the brothers, throwing everything off.
That was why this moment felt odd, Livia told herself as she desperately fought to ignore the way his gaze seemed to reach inside her and take hold of the part of her she had kept for herself, the wall she had built to separate her memories from reality.
He took a step closer. His gaze moved over her face and stopped at her lips.
Unmistakable desire flashed in his eyes along with a strange intensity, a burning, startlingly unexpected, and she had the sudden sense that he was going to kiss her.
And worse, she wanted it.