Chapter Two #3
Back then, she’d adored Christmas. It was a huge part of the Norvenheim annual calendar.
An event that truly stopped the entire country in its tracks.
Streets were transformed into markets with lighting was suspended from side to side.
Every town square had a tree that they decorated.
Children wandered from door to door, singing carols and raising money for the poor.
It was also one of the busiest times of year for Astrid, when the royal family was expected to be most visible.
From balls, such as the one last night, to church services, special parliamentary sessions and musical concerts. There was barely a spare moment.
Which made the prime minister’s intrusion into this morning less palatable to Astrid than usual.
She reached for her desk phone and was connected immediately to her private secretary, Anja. ‘I’m here. Send him in.’
‘What do you know of Javier Diamandi?’ The prime minister appeared with a clutch of newspapers and dropped them down on Astrid’s large, ornately carved desk, with a thud.
Her eyes fell to them and instantly connected with the photograph on the front page of her and Javier dancing.
It was not the clarity of a professional lens.
This, she guessed, had been snapped by one of the guests, or even the catering staff.
It was against the established etiquette, but of course she wasn’t surprised. They’d decided not to enforce the removal of guests’ phones. This was the consequence of that.
‘I barely know him,’ she said. She was pleased she’d sounded so unaffected, when the truth was the few seconds she’d looked at the image had set her pulse racing all over again.
She wanted to stare at it. To lift the paper and drink in the details.
To inure herself to any future reactions like she’d felt last night.
‘This photograph is on every national broadsheet. Your name is trending all over social media.’
Her eyes lifted.
‘What?’
‘There’s a video of the two of you dancing. It’s on TikTok, Instagram…’
She lifted a hand to her lips, surprised by that. ‘How brazen.’
‘You know, people and their phones.’
‘So invasive,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘Who shared it?’
‘We’re looking into it.’
She closed her eyes. ‘Well, I guess that doesn’t matter now. The damage is done.’
‘So you are not involved with him?’
‘I met him last night for the first time,’ she said, carefully flattening her tone of irritation.
Once upon a time, Prime Minister Skarsgard had been the head of her Regency Council.
She’d been only fourteen and their relationship had been defined by those ages.
He had treated her like the child she was, rather than the queen she would become.
His deference performative at best and, eventually, fading into nothing.
He was, however, the one person in her life who always spoke truthfully to her.
‘You know time is moving on.’
Her brows lifted.
‘The reason there is so much speculation around your private life is because people are desperate that you have one. You know you require an heir—’
She held a hand up, not entirely sure if it would work to silence Henrik once he was on a roll. Fortunately, it did. ‘I’m aware of my situation.’
‘Javier Diamandi would be a very suitable match. That’s what I came to say.’
All the breath seemed to expel from her lungs as she instantly dismissed his suggestion.
‘His father came from one of the country’s oldest families, with a lineage that can be traced back almost as far as yours. While little is known of his mother, that won’t matter in the face of his father’s pedigree.’
She squeezed her eyes shut.
‘He is very wealthy and successful. He is respected across the world for what he has achieved. I had it in mind he could take up a role on the board of the Sovereign Wealth Fund. Naturally, as king he’d have to declare any conflict of interest—’
‘Prime Minister Skarsgard,’ she interjected quickly, her voice no longer cool and steady but rather rushed and heated by the way he was moving so far ahead.
She took in a deep breath, forcing herself to calm.
‘I only met the man last night. I am quite sure he has as little interest in marrying me as I do him. I’m sorry that you got your hopes up, but Javier Diamandi is not someone you’ll be seeing at the palace again. ’
‘That, my dear, is not entirely accurate.’
Beneath the table, she tapped her fingers against her thigh, drumming them in a steady beat to bring about calm. ‘What exactly do you mean?’
‘I’ve invited him here for a private audience with you today.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘I checked with your diary secretary. You’re free.’
Her head was spinning. She was ‘free’ because she’d been at an event until late the night before, and this was her last day and night with no plans before everything became manically busy.
‘He’s interested in building a six-star hotel in the city centre,’ Henrik continued. ‘It would be very good for us, good for the economy, our people…’
She closed her eyes, aware that the prime minister was waving the one carrot in front of Astrid that she would never refuse—what was good for the people of Norvenheim was her guiding principle in life.
‘I’ll meet him,’ she said, quietly. ‘But only because you have arranged it. I guarantee that will be the end of it. This—’ she waved at the papers without looking at them, ‘—is exactly what it looked like. A dance.’
Henrik hesitated a moment. ‘Watch the video, Your Majesty. I think you’ll see more than a dance. Just like the rest of the world has.’