Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
R uben always woke up early, but he had the feeling that he’d slept later than usual.
The sun fought its way through the gaps between Cherry’s curtains, bathing the room in gentle light.
The first thing he felt was the warm weight of her leg, slung over him as if it belonged there.
It certainly felt like it did. His hand was resting on her hip, and he realised with a jolt that his fingers were intertwined with hers.
He’d never heard of people holding hands in their sleep. He liked it, though. The panic that usually clogged his throat at the thought of this kind of thing—this kind of casual intimacy—was nowhere to be found. Maybe Hans was right. Maybe he was in love with her.
But he had this idea of falling in love that involved earthquakes and fanfare and, frankly, disaster. This all felt very normal . As if he’d been waiting his whole life to feel like this. To want someone like this. Shouldn’t love be tragic and fraught and all that shit? He wasn’t sure.
Ruben looked at Cherry’s head, her hair all wrapped up in a pretty silk scarf. It was slightly wonky. He had a feeling that was his fault. Then he pulled back just a little bit, to see her face. He really fucking wanted to see her face.
She looked the same as always: beautiful.
Unusually beautiful. The kind of beauty that people noticed, that they stopped to look at, that they made fools of themselves over.
Her face was relaxed in sleep, her full lips pouting slightly and her plump cheeks soft.
But her skin was different. Her usually flawless complexion was interrupted by little marks, slightly darker than the rest of her skin.
Like freckles, but bigger, softer, less frequent, scattered apart. Scars?
He traced a thumb over a few of the marks, like a constellation across her cheekbone. Her skin felt like silk. He liked it; liked touching her without the makeup she usually wore, the velvety powder or whatever the fuck it was.
He wanted to nudge her awake. He wanted to see her face when she came. But he should let her sleep.
Of course, as soon as he thought that, she woke up.
She let out a few soft sighs, fidgeting slightly, her lashes fluttering. He felt her hand tighten around his, and then her eyes opened all at once and she said, “Fuck.”
Which didn’t sound good.
“What?” he demanded.
“You’re still here. ”
“Of course I’m still here.” He felt the soft, satisfied feeling in his chest drain away. “Did you want me to leave?”
She frowned. “No. But…” Her eyes skittered away from his, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was blushing.
He cupped her cheek, pushing gently until she looked up at him.
“What?” he asked softly. He didn’t know what to expect.
Maybe karma had come knocking on his door, and she was about to give him a speech about how this wasn’t serious and she wasn’t ready for a relationship.
But then, he hadn’t asked for a relationship, exactly.
Yet. Plus, they were kind of in a relationship. They were engaged, for God’s sake.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t given her a ring. He wanted suddenly, urgently, to give her one. Specifically, the one sitting in his room, in a drawer, beside an old photo album of his parents.
He was in love with her. He was in love with her. Fuck .
Cherry bit her lip and whispered, as if they weren’t alone: “What if Agathe comes over?”
Ruben blinked. “Well… She comes over every day. To make breakfast.”
“Exactly! So she’ll notice that we’re in the same room !
“Why would she notice that?”
“You think she doesn’t watch you like a hawk?”
He was trying not to laugh. Cherry looked genuinely worried. He didn’t think she’d be pleased if he laughed. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But why would she care? ”
Cherry blinked. For a second, she looked stumped. Then she said, “ I care.”
“About what?”
“About your sweet little grandma knowing I’ve been fucking her grandson.” She batted at his chest. “Get out. Go back to your room.”
Ruben grinned. “But you haven’t been fucking me. Not really. Why don’t we—”
“Ooooh my God, will you stop? Get out!”
“Fine, fine.” Ruben threw off the blankets and tried to bite back the huge, shit-eating grin he could feel spreading across his face. Then he caught Cherry staring at his naked chest with a rather vacant expression and stopped trying to hold back the grin.
He was in love, and the object of his affections didn’t hate or regret him, and appeared to enjoy the sight of his chest. Really, what more could a man ask for?
All of her .
He shoved that thought aside.
“Next chance I get,” he said, “I’m fucking you.”
“Piss off.” She sat up, scowled at him, and grabbed her phone from the bedside table.
“Are you saying no?”
She rolled her eyes. “If you don’t get out, I’m never speaking to you again.”
“You know, Cherry, we are engaged. There’s really no need to be embarrassed—”
She threw a pillow at his head. He left. He was happier than he’d ever been in his life.
His good mood didn’t last.
Ruben was on his way to breakfast—and already late for his lunch meeting a city over—when Demi appeared out of nowhere to grab his arm.
“Jesus Christ, woman.” He slapped a hand over his heart, leaning against the hallway wall. “Where the hell did you come from?!”
“Study,” she said shortly. “I need to talk to you.” And then she dragged him off into the study he never used, displaying far more strength than was natural for a woman of her size.
He shut the door behind them and frowned down at her. She looked like someone had died.
Then she said, “The king has summoned you.”
The last of Ruben’s good cheer evaporated. “Tell him I said get fucked.”
“Oh, really? That’s what you want me to do?
” Demi threw herself into the chair behind the room’s huge desk and gave him a look.
“Shall I email his assistant, or call to pass on the message directly? And while I’m at it, would you like me to invite your sister over for tea?
Since apparently you’re trying to make your life hell? ”
Ruben pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been awake less than an hour, and already his head was pounding.
Fucking Harald.
“I thought we had another week,” he said finally.
“We did. He’s trying to mess with your head.” Demi stood, her expression unbearably kind. “Don’t let him.”
“It’s really not that simple.” Ruben ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room with unseeing eyes. “He controls almost everything I do—”
“As long as you retain your position in the royal household, sure.”
He looked up sharply. “I’m not giving it up.”
“Ruben…” She sighed. “You know what Hans and I think. You’ll always be your parents’ son, title or not. He can’t take that away from you.”
Ruben swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You have no idea how many things that man has taken from me. I’m not giving up anything else.”
She said something, but he barely heard the words. He was already leaving.
Waiting around for a man wasn’t really Cherry’s thing. So she told herself that she wasn’t waiting at all; she was eating breakfast, and if Ruben happened to turn up, so be it.
It’s not like she was breathless with anticipation or anything. Aside from the moments when her mind wandered from cinnamon muesli and coffee and the sound of Agathe humming to settle on thoughts of his smile, of the scent of his skin in the morning. Then she got kind of breathless.
The sound of rapid footsteps tore Cherry from her mooning and Agathe from her task, which appeared to be bleaching the sink. Cherry was pretty sure the older woman had done that twice yesterday, but to each their own.
Demi appeared in the doorway, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowed.
"Demetria?" Agathe frowned. "What is the matter?"
“Ruben isn’t in here?"
Cherry's concern spiked at the worried tone of her voice. “No. I think he’s upstairs. What's going on?"
Demi shook her head, turning to go, but then Agathe said in a voice of iron, "Demetria. Tell me. What is the problem?"
The two women shared a look before Demi said, "Harald has run out of patience. Either he’s brought the ball forward, or he gave us the wrong date on purpose. Whatever the reason, we’ve been summoned." She hurried off down the hall, leaving those words behind her like a bomb.
Cherry frowned. She already knew that Harald was, frankly, a grade-A cunt. But Agathe's usually ruddy face had turned grey at the news of his so-called ‘summons’. The old woman wrung her hands with uncharacteristic worry in her eyes, hunching over at the waist.
"What?" Cherry demanded .
The other woman looked up sharply, injecting brightness into her voice and forcing a smile onto her face with obvious effort. "Nothing. It is just, Ruben hates the palace, and he'll be angry."
"Ruben's never angry."
Agathe gave Cherry a look. A look that said, Don't think you know him. You don't.
Something was going on here. Something Cherry didn't fucking like.
"I know Ruben and his brother don't get on," she said. "And I know they kept him away from you."
Agathe flinched as if she'd been hit. When she looked up, her eyes were dark with anger and... something that looked like shame. “They took him away,” she said heavily, “but I let them.”
Cherry took a moment to adjust to the implications of that statement. “You… you didn’t want any contact?”
“That’s not it. That’s not it at all. It is only…
” Agathe trailed off, her face grave. “You know, my family was never wealthy, not before my Freja married Magnus. Ruben’s father.
But we were always happy. Children were always loved.
Always cared for. And I believed—” her voice caught, but she cleared her throat, shook her head.
Pressed on. “I believed that everyone would be that way. Especially royalty.” She let out a little laugh. “My mistake.”
Cherry pushed her breakfast away and leant against the kitchen island, dread pooling in her stomach like liquid concrete .