Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Stellan
After a record number of photo ops, meet and greets, and charity galas, I find myself fucking exhausted. Not just exhausted, actually… I feel like I’m on the verge of getting sick. I’ve done too much over too small of a window of time.
It’s time to retreat from sight.
I text Erik letting him know that I am going to get away for the weekend. He should cancel all my plans, at least until Monday. He responds quickly.
I’ll let Fredensborg Palace know that they should expect to see you. Will Margot be going with you as well?
My eyebrows rise. I hadn’t thought to bring her… but I can’t see the harm.
Yes, I answer. Call her if you would. And send a car to pick her up. I’m going to drive myself.
His response is instant. Ja, okay.
An hour later, when I pull up in Fredensborg’s curved drive, Margot stands waiting. I take my helmet off and admire the way her pink hair looks against Fredensborg’s white stucco walls and green metal roof. She gives me her most aloof look, running her hand over her short black dress.
She looks like a little pink meringue on a dessert plate. My mouth curves up. I stride over to her.
She looks less than pleased to see me. “Why am I here? I’m supposed to be having an evening off, according to the schedule your press office gave me.”
I shrug. “You’re here to keep me entertained.”
Margot glances up at the darkening sky. “Why are we here, though? You could’ve asked me to come anywhere in Copenhagen. No need to drag me all the way out here.” She wrinkles her nose and glances at the palace behind her. “Not that the scenery isn’t majestic or anything…”
“Stop whining,” I command. “Follow me.”
Stalking straight ahead, I climb Fredensborg’s stone steps, entering the palace itself. Two butlers and two maids await me in the grand foyer, curtsying low. I look back at Margot, who is following me with a frown.
“Hurry,” I say, waving her on. “This way.”
I turn right, down an echoing marble hallway. The butlers trail after Margot, as if they are unsure what I could be up to. No one will be left hanging for long, though.
I stop outside of two double doors, swinging them open to reveal my grandfather’s rather large billiards room.
There are three red felt pool tables by the far wall.
Two long bookcases line the back wall. Standing guard by the fireplace are a taxidermized bear and panther, both posed as if they were about to attack.
As a little boy, those figures both terrified and delighted me in equal measure.
A distinguished bar made of polished cedar sits to my far left. And to my right, there are several couches and chaise recliners made out of red velvet. The walls of the room and the windows are draped in a dark green fabric.
It looks like the Great Gatsby threw up in here, but this room called my name when I thought about where I might spend some downtime. And when Margot steps inside, her eyes widen with awe.
“Oh my god,” she breathes. She glances at me. “Is this place for real?”
“Yep.” I take my leather jacket off and sling in onto an ottoman on my way to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”
She’s not really listening. “Sure, whatever is fine,” she murmurs. “God, it’s like something out of a Hemingway novel in here.”
She runs her hand over the smooth cedar bar top, taking it all in, her tone one of hushed awe.
Pulling a couple of glasses out from the little cabinet below the bar, I smile at her words. “I think my grandfather and Mr. Hemingway knew one another. In fact, I bet that if we went over to the library, there are some signed first editions in there.”
She whirls, pinning me with a stare. “Shut. Up.”
I cock a brow at her. “No.”
“Ugh!” she says, throwing up her hands. As she turns away, looking at the bookshelves that are in here, I smile. She leans over and comes very close to showing me her panties. As a matter of fact, I think I catch a glimpse of them while I pop the cork on a bottle of champagne.
They’re pink and lacy, just as I hoped they would be. If she knew that I could see them I doubt she would like it… so I bite my lip, not breathing a word about it. In fact, I think she’d yell at me for looking at her ass.
Why spoil such a good thing for myself?
“Who picked these books?” she asks. She straightens and turns, biting her lip as I walk over to her.
I hand her a coupe glass of champagne. “Here.”
Margot accepts it, taking a sip. “Mm. Thanks.”
I throw her a smile, then take my own glass of champagne over to one of the couches. I lie down on it, kicking my feet up. “I think my grandfather picked the books.”
She comes over, sitting on the same couch, but at the other end. I take the liberty of putting my feet in her lap. She makes a face and slides my feet to the floor.
“Hey!” I protest. I can’t suppress a grin though.
“Your grandfather had pretty strange taste. There’s a whole section of transcendental poetry wedged in there.”
My eyes find her face. “I have no idea what that means.”
A huff of laughter escapes her. “Neither does anybody else, so don’t feel bad.”
I cock my head at her. “You’re really smart, aren’t you?”
She turns red and rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”
“No. I mean it. Who the fuck has ever heard of transcendental poetry? And I’ve heard you call me privileged for growing up with private tutors, but you haven’t exactly missed any references. You are actually, genuinely smart.”
She covers her face with her hands. “Oh my god. A change of topic was needed like… yesterday.”
Smirking, I shrug. “Okay. Tell me one thing I wouldn’t guess about you just from looking at you.”
Margot peeks out from behind her hands, then relents. She drops her hands, still blushing but looking thoughtful. “Umm… Ooh. I like pop music. I mean, not all pop music. But like… Billie Eilish? I know every single one of her songs by heart.”
I chuckle. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
She sips her champagne, sneaking a look at me. “Now you.”
I pull my feet up again, this time resting them on her thigh. She scrunches up her face but doesn’t try to remove them. I consider that a win.
“I play polo.”
“Ugh, I could’ve guessed that. I need something good.”
I wag my finger at her. “You didn’t let me finish. I play polo, but only because one of my charities asks me to every year. And every fucking year, I get my ass beat. I’m ridiculously bad at it.”
She laughs. “All right, you win. At this game, not at polo. Because you apparently suck at polo.”
I sigh dramatically. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re common.”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because she stops laughing.
Instead, she fixes me with a frown. “I don’t like the way you say that.
Common. Like there’s something wrong with everyday people.
Why don’t you realize that we are what is normal?
It’s you guys, the top one percent of the one percent… you’re fucking weird.”
Taking several gulps out of my glass, I pin her with a stare. “Maybe. Then again, I’m not putting on airs. I’m not pretending to be something I’m not, hanging out with people I wouldn’t normally meet. That’s you.”
Margot sits up straight, looking at me with a puzzled frown. “You get that I’m only here because my job told me to be, right? It’s important to me that you understand that.”
I roll my eyes and put my feet down on the floor. “This conversation has gotten very boring all of the sudden.”
Standing up, I upend my glass of champagne into my mouth and slurp it down. When I look back at her, she has this wounded look on her face, like I’m the one who is being a bully.
I’m not.
Am I?
“Come on,” I say, nodding my head to the door. “Let’s explore the palace. I bet you I can count at least six blades hanging on various walls.”
She wrinkles her nose but gets to her feet, following me around through room after room. She’s gone quiet.
And that’s no good, because I like it when she’s a noisy rebel. Instead, she nods and soaks up information. No matter how I try to encourage her wild side to come out, she’s retreated somewhere, put up walls that I haven’t seen before.
“Come onnnnnnn,” I prod her, walking down yet another marble hallway. Fat cherubs look down on me from the corners, seeming disappointed in me. “It’s just a swimming pool. You don’t need a suit…”
She stops in her tracks, whirling to face me. “What is your deal, Stellan?”
I pause, my mind turning over the possibilities of what she could mean. “My deal?”
“Hot or cold? Hmm? Which one do you want to be today? The friendly guy who teases me about skinny dipping in the palace pool? Or are you the jerk who likes rubbing my nose in the fact that I’m not royal?
” She cocks her hip, fury written all over her face.
“If you could just let me know, that would be great. It’s nice to have some idea of when I should be strait-laced and when I should cut loose. ”
One corner of my mouth curls up. “I would love to see you cut loose. Is that an option?”
Her eyes narrow. “You know what? Hold that thought. Let’s go somewhere that you don’t have the home turf advantage.”
I squint. “The what?”
She holds up a finger and stalks away, putting her phone out and fiddling with it.
And that’s when it hits me. This big, huge wave of warmth, of happiness, of pleasure.
Oh god.
I like Margot.
I like her even more when she’s a little bit cruel to me.
I like her when she’s mean.
How did this happen to me?
She puts the phone to her ear, speaking softly into it. And all I can think is how fucked I am if she finds out how I feel. It’s hard enough right now as it is…
Margot spins, her eyes lighting up. She hangs up the phone, practically bristling with excitement. “Get your coat. We’re going out.”
And I just nod like an idiot, trying to smash my feelings down into a hole deep inside. I can’t act on them. So why does being with Margot make me so… well, happy isn’t quite the right word, is it? I turn back toward where I left my coat, swallowing against the knot forming in my throat.