Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Margot
“And let us not forget the children for whom we raise this money…” Stellan says, smiling into the microphone. He’s in his usual dress of a richly-cut navy suit and a crisp white button up, standing behind a podium before a ballroom of people.
I’m staring at him from the sidelines, my cellphone in my hand, recording the whole thing. Still I look at him, at how he draws the attention of the entire room.
Elegant. Coiffed. Handsome.
You can say a great deal about his other attributes, including his often-oafish personality. But I look at his dark hair, his light blue eyes, his cheekbones chiseled from granite…
A person really can’t find fault with his physical appearance, is what I am thinking. My cheeks warm, but I don’t look away.
I watch him talking to the audience in his native tongue, something that is still foreign to me. He speaks quickly but assuredly, his voice honeyed as it glides over the alien-sounding syllables. I bite my lip, thinking to myself that I have to learn Danish sooner or later.
That is, if I stay here in Copenhagen after the article is published. All of that is a little too far into the future, murky at best.
My attention wanders: the ballroom we are in is in downtown Copenhagen, not owned by the royal family from what I can tell.
The ceilings are soaring, the decoration ornate.
Everything that I’ve seen so far in this hotel is done up in silver and black, in the style of jazz age era hotels.
There’s even an old gramophone; I saw it as I entered, segregated from the rest of the room with slinky red ropes.
“Thank you!” Stellan finishes his speech and the small crowd of businesspeople applaud wildly. As cameras flash, I roll my eyes just a bit.
No wonder he has such a huge ego. If everyone clapped every time I gave a speech about anything, I would probably have a big head too.
I see Stellan searching the crowd for me a second before his gaze meets mine. Blushing a little, I smooth my hands down yet another rented ballgown. This one is strapless and snow white, with a white length of taffeta meant to be worn as a wrap.
I slip my phone into my tote bag just as Stellan reaches me. He’s riding high on the applause, his cheeks still pink, his smile still brilliant.
“What did you think of my speech?” he asks. His Danish accent is more pronounced just now, I suppose from speaking his mother tongue only moments ago.
I lick my lips, darting my eyes away from his face. “I think I still need to learn Danish.”
He shakes his head at me, repressing an eye roll. Behind him, a five piece quartet starts playing jazz standards. “Want to see something cool?”
Clearing my throat, I manage a smile. “Always.”
Stellan makes a pleased sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, but lacking the heat of anger. He grabs my elbow and starts towing me out of the ballroom. “Come. You’re going to like this.”
I bite my lower lip. “Am I going to be able to take notes?”
He pulls me out into the darkened marble hallway, shaking his head just a little. “I would rather you didn’t. I’m celebrating tonight. You should be too.”
I give a huffed laugh. “What are you celebrating, exactly?”
He shrugs. “What does it matter?”
My lips curve up. “Touché.”
He guides me to the grand elevators, pressing the button to call it to our floor.
I cock my head, looking at our reflection in the elevator doors.
Stellan is so big and tall, so darkly handsome.
I am so petite next to him; with my bubble gum pink hair and my white ball gown, I look as though I am made of marzipan candy.
What would he be, if we were both made of sugar? Perhaps some bitter black licorice, or some sort of molasses drops. Not the kind of candy most people would want to gorge themselves on, anyway…
I hear raised voices and turn my head. Stellan does too. Down the hall, Annika comes rushing out of some darkened room, her expression stormy. She says something cutting in Danish, holding her purple ball gown skirts up.
What is she running from?
My question is answered only a second later when Erik steps out into the hallway, reaching out and catching her by the arm. He spins her around to face him as if she weighs nothing.
She looks mad enough to spit at him. He leans his dirty blond head close to her ear. His words are too low to make out; from this distance, I only get the low grate of his voice.
“Erik!” Stellan shouts.
As one, Erik and Annika freeze, then turn to look at us. Annika steps away, wresting her arm from Erik’s grip. Erik clears his throat and then calls down to us.
“We were just having a disagreement about…” He pauses. “Suitable choices.”
Annika leans over and pushes his shoulder hard. “And I was telling him that he can’t tell me what to do!”
She screws up her face and stalks away from all of us, vanishing around a corner. I see a look of concern slide between Stellan and Erik.
“Er alt i orden?” Stellan asks.
Erik shrugs. “Ja. Vaer ikke urolig.”
Before I can ask Stellan to translate, Erik takes off down the hall after Annika. I watch Stellan’s face and catch a suspicious look rippling across it, but in the next second he turns back toward the elevators. He presses the button again, impatient.
“What was that all about?” I ask. The elevator doors slide open and we step inside.
He presses the button for the top floor and shakes his head. “I have no idea. My sister has always been dramatic. Erik has always been… I don’t know, whatever the opposite of that is.”
The doors close. Stellan runs his hand through his hair, using his reflection in the elevator doors to groom himself. I fidget nervously, wondering where we are going.
As the elevator car rises, I look at Stellan. “What are we gathered here for? Tonight, I mean. All the fancy people downstairs in the ballroom.”
He swings his gaze to me. “Is it going to end up in your article?”
Sighing, I give my head a gentle shake. “Not if you don’t want it to.”
The elevator slows. He brushes off his tux. “We raised several million krone for my homeless youth outreach program. I am pleased, to say the least.”
The surprise must be evident on my face, because he looks at me with a chuckle. “Oh, come now. If there’s one thing the royal family is good at, it’s fundraising for charities.”
The doors roll open to a little lobby. Stepping out, I see a luxurious restaurant to the right, people in their evening attire chatting and drinking, waiters circling with refills. I start to walk that way but Stellan stops me with a hand on my inner elbow.
“No, no.” He pulls me the other way. “Come on.”
He walks to a stairwell and opens the door for me. I head where he directs, up the stairs to where the stairwell dead ends at a dark metal door. When I look back at him, he jerks his head to the door.
“Open it.”
I push the door open and step out into a little area no bigger than a closet. To my surprise I’m greeted by the night sky full of stars overhead. I move forward just a little to a railing. Looking down, I can’t keep from gaping.
“You can see the entire city from here!” I gasp. I look back at Stellan, who grins at my reaction. “I can see the palace from here. Oh! And the Politiken offices are right over there… which means…” I consider the cityscape, then point. “I think Pippa’s apartments are that direction.”
He steps forward, pressing himself against the balcony railing. “I think her apartment is over that way, actually.”
I shoot him a puzzled look. “Why would you know?”
He grins at me, his eyes dancing. “Because I know. Pippa’s been friends with our family for years. Does that soothe the jealous monster within?”
Yes, a little. I stick out my tongue at him. “I’m not jealous, Jealousy is for the rich. Me? I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to scrape by.”
He smirks, running his gaze up and down my body. “You’re doing all right, if I had to guess. Except that your top half seems to want to be free of your ballgown…”
My mouth opens. A little sound of displeasure comes out as I quickly adjust the top of my ballgown. “It’s a rented gown, okay? My boobs don’t stand a chance of actually fitting in this thing.” I scowl at the grin that spreads across his face. “Quit looking at my tits!”
He leans a little closer, biting his lip. Only now do I realize that he’s almost close enough to touch me. My pulse starts speeding up as I look up into his face.
“And what if I don’t want to stop looking?” he taunts.
My mouth goes dry. I’m suddenly aware of my hands. What should I do with them? I slip them in my pockets as my gaze slips down from his ice blue eyes to his perfect, soft-looking lips.
He breathes a little harder than usual. When I look back up to his eyes, I can tell his pupils have dilated a bit.
He wants me. I can feel it. There is something in the air, something occupying the space between us.
Say something. Tell him you want him, I think.
“I— “
The moment is shattered by his phone ringing. His eyes widen and he straightens, giving himself a shake. He reaches into his pocket and looks at the screen, then shrugs one shoulder.
“I should take this. I’ll see you later, maybe.”
Stellan whirls and puts the phone to his ear, pulling the door open. “Hej ja ja - nej du forstyrre ikk.”
I sigh, looking back out over the amazing cityscape, wondering what if?