Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
C herry spent the next day on edge. She was waiting for someone with a camera to leap out from the bushes and call her a slut in Danish. Or for Chris to sack her for inappropriate fraternisation with the Academy’s personal prince. Or something.
None of that happened. In fact, nothing unusual happened at all. Until she left work that afternoon.
She chugged down the long, gentle hill towards the outskirts of town, turning the corner before her flat—only to brake sharply when she came car-to-face with a horde of shouting people.
She blinked, confused. What the fuck were they doing, crawling across the street like a nest of ants? That was a sharp bend; she could’ve hit someone. Did they have no sense of self-preservation?
Then the first camera flash popped into view, sending stars across her vision.
No way. No fucking way.
“It’s her! That’s the car! ”
Oh, fuck.
A fist banged against her window, and then one guy sprawled his whole damn body across the hood of her poor little Corsa, camera flashing right in her face.
Looked like Maggie’s confidence had been misplaced. Apparently, some people did care about foreign royals.
Cherry smiled. It was her prettiest smile, not seductive or charming but delightful and demure. She turned her head slightly to display the left side of her face. If she was about to play a starring role in some gossip rag, they should at least get her good side.
She gave them a solid three seconds of beauty. Then she slammed the accelerator.
They scrambled. She had to hand it to them; they were quick. Although, the guy who’d been lying across her hood rolled off the car and right onto the road. Oh, dear. That had to hurt. Maybe his fancy fucking camera had broken the fall.
She sped the rest of the way home, skidding into her flat’s car park and swinging recklessly into a parking space.
Well—three spaces. Horizontally. Whatever.
She hit the brakes, then flipped down the visor mirror, checking her reflection.
Still perfect. Good. Because there, loitering near the entrance of the car park, was a black, stretch Lincoln MKT. Gag .
Well. Hans had told her they’d be back .
With a sigh, Cherry got out of the car, striding over to the limo just as its door opened and Hans’s huge body emerged.
“Madam,” he said.
“Have you come to kidnap me? I have to warn you, my scream has been known to burst eardrums.”
His lips quirked, but his gaze remained blank; he was all smooth professionalism and intimidating silence.
“Fine,” she sighed. “Be that way.” She slipped past him and climbed into the car.
He shut the door behind her.
“I’m glad to see you,” Ruben said.
Cherry closed her eyes, just for a second, as she reined in the feelings that sentence had set off. There were many of them, bright and varied as a Bonfire Night sky, but the most pressing emotion was rage.
She was still angry, then. In case she’d been in any doubt.
When she opened her eyes again, he was frowning at her.
He lounged against the limo’s leather seats, his right ankle crossed over his left knee, the fabric of his suit trousers pulling tight over powerful thighs.
He wore no jacket, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms. For a moment, she considered allowing herself to enjoy the sight of those forearms—objectively, you know. Separating the art from the artist.
Then she pulled herself together and clutched her anger close, a burning barrier against the twisted attraction she still felt. Clearly, his looks did terrible things to her head. And she needed her mind clear for this conversation.
Cherry tore her gaze from his face and forced herself to speak. “I thought you said the press would leave me alone?”
“In Helgm?re,” he said, “there is an understanding between my brother—the king—and the media. The royal family are protected from certain invasions of privacy. That agreement does not, unfortunately, extend to the activities of the British press.”
“Great,” she said woodenly. “Perfect. Just what I need.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
She pursed her lips. Frankly, that wasn’t much of an apology. It had all the key parts: ‘I’m’ and ’sorry’. But she wanted something a bit more impactful. Something involving sky-writing and a grand band, perhaps. Just a few ideas. Maybe she should write him a list.
“Cherry,” he said, after her silence went on a little bit too long. “Are you going to talk to me?”
Before she could stop herself, she tutted. And then was utterly mortified. God, she sounded like her mother.
The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile.
“I take it that’s a no.” At her blank stare, his smile faded.
He sighed, sitting up straighter, planting both feet flat on the floor.
“You’re right, obviously. Why should you talk to me?
” His tongue snaked out to wet his full, lower lip.
“But I have a lot to say. Do you mind if we drive?”
She shrugged. He reached over and pressed one of the buttons lined up by the nearest blacked-out window. “ K?re . ”
The car slid into movement, so smooth she almost didn’t notice.
“Alright,” Ruben said, clasping his hands together. “I know you like to keep things to the point—”
“And yet,” she murmured, “you continue to babble.”
He grinned. Apparently, he didn’t care what she said, as long as she spoke. “I do, don’t I? It’s natural, I’m afraid.”
She arched a brow. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.”
“What can I say?” His voice deepened, became darker, rich as molasses. “I seem to behave badly around you.”
Cherry swallowed, hard. She clamped her knees together and tried to forget the feeling of his hands tugging at her suspenders. Didn’t work. So she talked over the images crowding her brain. “Whatever you’re trying to say here, get on with it. Please. Before you bore me to death.”
His eyes captured hers and didn’t let go. They were steady, impenetrable, unavoidable, even as he gave her that devastating little half-smile. “Certainly. I’m here to make you an offer.”
Oh, dear. “An offer, as in…?”
“You have a problem,” he said, which was an understatement if she’d ever heard one. “I do too. My… indiscretion affects both of us, believe it or not.”
She snorted. “Not.”
But he watched her steadily, unsmiling. “I have no wish to draw attention to myself, Cherry. I had a bad experience, not so long ago, that left me with little desire to cause another…” Hi s mouth twisted as he searched for the word.
“Another scandal . So, yes, this affects me. I have a certain reputation, one that I cannot seem to escape and desperately want to. You can help me change the narrative. And, in return, I may be able to help you. Understand?”
Cherry rolled her lips inwards, her toes curling inside her shoes.
In less than a day, she’d managed to forget how it felt to bear the full force of that intensity.
But she forced herself to concentrate on what mattered; on the meaning behind his words, not the thread of steel in his voice or the aura of authority that twisted something in her chest.
“So what did you do?” she asked.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What did you do? To get this terrible reputation of yours?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing… immoral.”
“Well, you know, people rarely consider themselves to be immoral. Hitler thought of himself as a great guy. So, I’d kind of like to know.”
She could practically hear him grinding his teeth. “It was… related to my sexual proclivities.” Then, when he saw the look on her face, he hurried to add, “Nothing like that. I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t…” He sighed. “Jesus, Cherry. I had sex. That’s what I did.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You’re a man. You could fuck the Queen and they’d pat you on the back.”
“Well,” he said wryly, “ my queen is also my sister-in-law. So perhaps not. ”
“You know what I mean. The only time men get shit for sex is if they’re on some truly twisted shit, or they’re anything other than laser straight.” She looked up to find him watching her with quiet amusement, and something in his eyes made her realise… “Oh. You—”
“ I , what?” He demanded, one brow raised. “I fuck who I want, how I want? Correct. That’s what I did. Are we done?”
Cherry bit down on the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling kind of… shit. “Yeah. Okay.”
He inclined his head, and his voice was soft when he murmured, “Good.” But his eyes skated away from hers again, and he seemed to reel himself in.
The air between them no longer swelled with the force of his personality.
Everything was still and quiet and precisely as it should be.
He reached for a case of black leather beside him, revealing that it was actually a huge folder.
He slid open the silver clasp and pulled out a thick sheath of papers, half of which he gave to her.
“This is my offer,” he said. “You can study it at your leisure, but the long and short of it is—well. I’d like you to become my fiancée. For a year.”
In the ensuing silence, Cherry became acutely aware of the low hum of the car’s engine, its smooth glide forward.
She wondered, suddenly and pointlessly, where they were.
Was the driver circling the block? Probably not.
That would cause unnecessary attention. Maybe they were heading towards the city, where a car like this wouldn’t garner as much notice. Maybe—
“Cherry,” Ruben said gently. “Are you alright? ”
Was she alright? Now she thought about it, she was tapping her foot rather rapidly.
And clenching her fists kind of tightly.
Her nails must be carving some serious crescent moons into her palms right now.
It would probably hurt, if her mind wasn’t too busy freaking the fuck out to notice minor things like pain.
“Cherry.” His hand came to settle on her shoulder again, squeezing this time. Hard enough to capture her attention, to drag her out of her own head.