His Forbidden Princess (Dirty Royals Book 3)

by Vivian Wood

I look out the rear window of the chauffeured car, pressing a hand to the cool glass of the window. The sun has slunk behind the horizon now and the last rays of light are slowly disappearing on this June night. I stare at the bright flashes of Copenhagen’s stately skyline as we drive.

  As the manor comes into view, I gaze at it out the window. My eyes widen as the car swings around the long, perfectly landscaped driveway. Every light is on in the house, every door thrown open. There are people spilling out of the house and across the lawn.

  Straining to look out the window, I can hear the techno being pumped through the unseen sound system. I start laughing, looking over at my best friend Kalindi. She glances at the looming mansion, tucking a few strands of her long, shiny, black-brown hair behind her ear. A blush creeps into her cheeks, pink tinging her tawny skin just in the apples of her cheeks.

  “I can’t believe that Stellan sent us here,” she mutters. Her accent is a melting pot of cultures: a little Indian, overlaid with British and Swiss, and finally finished off with just a dash of Danish. She turns her head to look at me. “Annika, are you listening to me?”

  I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “Yes. You were saying that you are surprised that my big brother is supporting this enormous party. And my response is that it’s a whole new world out there. Stellan and Margot just told us as much by announcing their engagement tonight.”

  She frowns just a bit. “Surely you support their marriage. Even though Margot is an American and a commoner.” She makes a sound of distaste. “I actually hate that term. It’s rather colonial, isn’t it?”

  I sigh. “I have no problem with them. Margot is nicer than most of the girls who tried to date Stellan. And I have to love her fire.” I smooth out my skirt. “I’m just apprehensive about the press. They’ve been following me absolutely everywhere lately. If the paparazzi get one more photo of me that they can splash across the headlines of their papers, the royal press office may have a collective heart attack.”

  She wrinkles her nose daintily. “We don’t have to go to this party, Nika. I mean… it is totally okay to tap out after… you know…”

  My cheeks go pink and I look down into my lap. “My latest and greatest brush with being admitted to a psychiatric ward?”

  “Well… yes,” she admits. “The doctors said that you just had a panic attack but…” She grabs my hand, looking at me with serious eyes. “I was there, Nika. And it was scary. You never had panic attacks before we came back to Copenhagen. Playing the royal princess and having the spotlight on you isn’t doing you any favors.”

  I sigh, squeezing her hand. “Kal, you are sweet to worry. But I feel fine. I just…” I look out the window again, biting my lower lip. “I need to stay out of the newspapers. Stellan asked me to ‘cool it’ until the wedding so…”

  She nods. “Got it. We should be able to stay off their radar.” She turns to look out the window, eyeing the scene with some skepticism. “I mean, this mansion looks like someone’s house.”

  I lean forward, excited. “This afterparty is going to be wild. I doubt if Stellan even knew that, because he’s such a fun vampire. This night just got interesting.”

  Kalindi looks at me, scrunching her nose as the driver pulls the car to a halt. “I hate it when you say that. It inevitably turns out insane rather than interesting.”

  I grin, opening my door. Loud music pours into the car, thudding so hard that I can feel it in my bones. “Come on!”

  I scoot out, straightening my white linen dress. It’s super short and strappy, showing a rather daring amount of cleavage.

  Well, what little I have, anyway.

  “Princess Annika!” A couple of giggling teenaged girls call to me. “Can we have your autograph? Please?”

  They wave a piece of paper and a pen in front of my face. I take a deep breath, then give them my most dazzling smile. “Of course. Tell me your names!”

  One girl squeals. The other tells me their names.

  “Sofia and Agnes,” she says. “I don’t have the words to tell you how much this means to me. God, I have to call my mother and tell her. She’ll be so jealous that I got to meet you!”

  I shift from foot to foot, my perfect princess smile unwavering. “Tak, ladies. It is awfully nice to meet you as well.”

  I spend a full minute chatting with them and signing their piece of paper. When we’re done, they run off into the deepening darkness, excited beyond words.

  Kalindi favors me with a look. “You are so nice to everyone you meet. If I were you and I were accosted here, I would tell them to take a hike.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s a part of my job, Kal.”

  “Is it?” she asks. “Have you figured out what you’re doing with your life, other than being an actual princess?”

  My mouth pulls down. “No. I haven’t, thank you very much. Now if you don’t mind… there’s all kinds of excitement waiting right here.”

  I squint out at the party raging in front of us. The mansion itself is quaint, red brick and covered in ivy. There are probably nearly a hundred party guests on the lawn alone, drinking and talking, tapping a keg in the far corner. The front door is open like a hungry mouth, inviting us in.

  I grab Kalindi by the hand and halfway drag her up across the manicured lawn. She allows it too, her free hand fluttering over her conservative, preppy outfit. Her white blouse is tucked into a light blue skirt, topped off with a herringbone tweed jacket.

  I slide her a look as we climb the steps of the front porch. “Expecting to see someone?”

  She looks at me, blushing. “No.” I narrow my gaze at her, and she lifts her chin. “I’m not. I’m just… being prepared. You should try it some time.”

  I grin, pulling her deeper inside the house.

  Taking a deep breath, I reach in my purse for a piece of hard candy wrapped in a shiny gold colored wrapper. I pop it in my mouth and let it start to melt onto my tongue. The creamy toffee flavor instantly brightens my mood.

  I can admit it; I’m more than a little addicted to these hard candies. And because they are low in sugar, I pop four or five of them in my mouth a day. Just whenever I need a little boost.

  Once we get past the doorway everything is harder to make out. If there are any lights on in here, I don’t see them; I continue straight down the main hallway, bumping into at least a dozen people, squeezing past a whole clump of girls gathered at the foot of the grand staircase.

  Once we are past them, we make it into the kitchen. There I find Stellan and Margot, holding court in one corner, leaning against the kitchen counter. A dozen people I don’t recognize are gathered around them. The music is a fraction quieter in here, so when Stellan sees me, he raises a plastic cup.

  “Annika is here!” he calls.

  My lips twitch. He and Margot are clearly drunk; poor little Margot doesn’t look like she can stand on her own. It’s a little cute how she leans on Stellan. She looks at my ridiculously hardheaded brother like he’s the reason for her very existence. He slips his arm around her and pulls her closer.

  I roll my eyes and ignore their handsy, drunken PDA. “Kalindi is here too. Where can we get something to drink?”

  Margot hiccups. “Can someone please give them some punch?”

  Just like that, we are each handed a plastic cup filled with a dark red punch. Kalindi looks into her cup with a frown. But I’m not put off by the alcohol and fruit scents floating up off of the cup’s contents.

  “To Stellan and Margot!” I cry, lifting my cup.

  Everyone cheers. I take a sip, wincing a little bit. It tastes just like it smells, a ton of fruit flavors layered with a lot of aquavit.

  Kalindi tries some and coughs a little, her free hand moving up to cover her mouth. “What is in this?!”

  I grin at her. “Bottoms up?”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Fine. But only because I’m just catching up…”

  I’m already tipping the cup up and letting the alcohol pour down my throat. After a couple
more drinks, I’m loose and warm and ready to dance. I lead the way to the dance floor, which was at some earlier point a dining room slash living room.

  The hardwood table and matching chairs have been pushed against one wall; the other walls have the white plush couches and chairs seated by them. People are dancing and making out on the couches as I tug Kalindi into the dark space.

  We start to dance, feeling the beat of the baseline. I shoot Kalindi a grin. “Keep your eyes peeled for hot guys, okay?”

  She laughs. “Hot guys for you. I’m not kissing a stranger tonight.”

  “Oh, we’ll see about that!” I yell.

  She pulls a face. “I have to find the bathroom. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “I’m obviously completely fine.”

  She heads off the dance floor, weaving around a group of particularly exuberant dancers. I watch her go, realizing only after she’s been gone for a minute that I don’t feel like dancing without a partner.

  Swiveling my head around, I look for a replacement. What I find though…

  A tall, broadly shaped man in the corner is looking right at me. I take a step closer and a grin spreads across my face.

  Blond hair, green-brown eyes, tanned skin, and more muscles than he even knows what to do with. It’s none other than Erik, my brother’s stoic best friend. He is still wearing his tux, but he’s ditched the jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his hot as fuck forearms. His gaze is fixed on me, his expression unreadable.

  In the nine months that I have been back in Copenhagen, being able to torment Erik is really one of the only bright spots. I mean, I’m glad to have Kal, but she’s so busy with university stuff.

  Erik is always around, perpetually insanely handsome, and always so freaking stiff when I talk to him. It’s impossible not to rib him a little.

  Or a lot, as the case may be.

  I sway my hips as I saunter right up to him. “I didn’t expect to see you here. How have you not turned into a pumpkin, Cinderella?”

  His handsome face twitches for just a moment, then he sighs. “I was just about to ask you the same thing, little girl.”

  My mouth makes a moue of displeasure. “Don’t hate me for my youth and beauty, you joy kill.”

  He scans the room casually, shrugging. “One man’s joy kill is another man’s savior from the brink.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s so starched and polished, even here in this room full of drunk idiots making out. “Do you tell yourself that when you go to bed alone every night?”

  His greenish-brown eyes rake over me. “Don’t you have a boy your age to torture?”

  A sharp laugh is pulled from my lips. “Why would I do that when you’re so much more fun? Taking the starch out of you is so much more… pleasurable.”

  He shakes his head at me, turning to move away. It’s instinct to reach out and catch his wrist.

  But when he rounds on me, his eyes snapping and crackling with an unexpectedly fierce energy, I gulp. He shakes off my touch like one would a burning brand, glaring at me.

  I see his hand flex, tightening to a fist and then relaxing. How he had such an emotional reaction to something so simple as a touch astounds me.

  He growls at me. “What are you doing, Annika?”

  I pout. “I wasn’t done talking to you.”

  He steps up to me, leaning down and getting in my face. “I don’t think that I left it up to you, princess.”

  My eyes widen. I’m pretty tall for a girl, almost five foot eight. But he dwarfs my size, his muscular body much more immense than mine could ever be. It’s kind of nice to feel like the fragile one for just a second, even though I’m definitely playing with fire.

  My heart starts pounding. If Erik could wound me with those fiery eyes of his, I’d be skewered through.

  When I finally find the words, they leave me in a mere whisper. “Now who’s the killer of joy?”

  He snorts angrily, turning and storming off. I am left with a frantically beating heart and trembling hands. A few moments later Kalindi returns, looking over her shoulder.

  “The bathroom line is so long that I can’t stand in it anymore.” She looks back, then senses my mood. “What? Did I miss something?”

  My lips twist sourly. “Not really, no. You just missed The Ghost of Christmas Past, stirring up trouble.”

  Kalindi looks puzzled. “I’m sorry, what?”

  I pull a face. “I’m talking about Erik.”

  “Erik… Erik Moen?”

  “The very one.”

  Kalindi cocks her head. “Why isn’t he in bed already?”

  I burst out laughing. “I said as much to him and he did not take it very well.”

  She shrugs. “He is tall and blond and unbelievably handsome… but he has a steel beam lodged up his you know what.”

  I grin, rolling my eyes. “Kalindi, you are old enough to say ass.”

  I hear a shrill scream from a nearby room. Everybody seems to freeze up, turning toward the sound. Then a loud male voice booms out.

  “Politibetjente!”

  “Shit,” I mutter. I’m drunk, too drunk to deal with any police.

  Without really thinking it through, I grab Kalindi’s hand and start running. Everybody else has the same idea, running out of the house and into the manicured back yard.

  What I did not anticipate was the flash of cameras as soon as I step out onto the lawn. I’m blind for a moment as I throw up an arm to guard my eyes.

  “What the fuck?” I say, blinking rapidly. When I can see again, I see several paparazzi there about twenty yards away, going crazy taking pictures of me while I’m disoriented. “Fuck!” I shout, trying to shield my face from the paparazzi as best as I can. Kalindi is right there, shielding my face from their view with her tweed jacket.

  “Come on,” she cries, tugging me toward the front yard. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We run across the spongey green grass to the smoothly paved driveway. My mind is all over the place, mostly focusing on what just happened.

  I don’t see any police cars… which means that this was just a paparazzi ploy.

  Oh, god. They must have gotten some good pictures of me, standing there with my mouth hanging open, looking totally dazed.

  As we climb into the first car we see, I sink down in my seat. Because already, I can hear Stellan’s voice.

  Can you just cool it until the wedding?

  I close my eyes. “Take me to the palace, please.”

  Back to my upcoming punishment…

  3

  Erik

  My office is a cramped space in the basement of Amalienborg palace. It’s really confined, the space no bigger than one of Stellan’s walk-in closets.

  Not that I’m exactly jealous of my best friend, the King of Denmark. He has some big fish to fry, especially with his upcoming nuptials to his American journalist Margot.

  But my office is really rather ridiculous. It’s musty. It’s dark. It’s always freezing. It’s only large enough to hold a desk and three chairs. It has a single window placed far above my head through which sunlight only streams in during the earliest hours of the day.

  It’s a little depressing, frankly.

  I’m rarely in it anyway, preferring to always be on the go. But just now, it serves its purpose. It is cool and quiet, exactly what I need today.

  My head pounds. Why did I drink so much last night?

  I stretch out and kick my feet up on my desk, upset that I still have to wear my suit. Stellan is still in bed with Margot, but me… I am working.

  I am always working. I squint and then unbutton the top button of my shirt. Loosening my tie a little bit brings an unimaginable kind of relief.

  I think it also summons her.

  When the Queen Mother sweeps into the drab little room that I call an office, I shoot to my feet and shut down my iPad screen. I’m still extremely hungover and trying to cover it up with an astounding volume of coffee
and breakfast pastries. The leftovers of my breakfast are still on my desk but there’s nothing to be done about it now.

  I clear my throat, trying to appear presentable. I bow, wishing that I hadn’t just loosened my tie. “Your Royal Highness.”

  The Queen Mother looks me up and down, as if examining me for flaws. She’s a tiny person, probably only five feet tall. But what she lacks in physicality she more than makes up for in formidability.

  She tucks a strand of her iron-gray hair back, looking above reproach in her modestly chic white dress. I stare at her blankly.

  God, she makes me so nervous. No one else has this effect on me.

  “Did we have a meeting that I forgot about?” I blurt out.

  Her eyes narrow on my face. “No, Erik.” She glances behind herself at the doorway, then looks back at me. She smiles tightly. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

  I look down at my desk and the couple of chairs that have been crammed into this tiny space, intended for theoretical guests. “Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”

  As she squeezes herself into the chair furthest from the door, I find my seat again. A second after she sits down, I hear the clatter of high heels approaching very quickly.

  Annika pokes her head into the room, making a face. “This is where your office is? God, could they make it any harder to find?”

  “Annika!” the Queen Mother scolds. “You are late. Come in here.”

  Annika steps into my office. My eyes widen at the lavender minidress she’s wearing, her long wavy hair covering a full third of the dress’s skimpy length. Her long, tanned legs are bare and dazzling; they make my brain short circuit for a second.

  The Queen Mother's expression turns thunderous. “You cannot wear that dress, Annika! If anyone sees you dressed like a street walker it’ll shame the entire royal family.”

  Annika rolls her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. She purses her lips, looking at me.

  “I’m too hungover for this. Are you feeling the same way?”

  I favor her with a glower. “No.”

  I’m lying; I absolutely am hungover as fuck, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Annika embarrass me in front of the Queen Mother.