His Forbidden Princess (Dirty Royals Book 3)

by Vivian Wood

  Just as well and fine with me, honestly.

  “Dalia! Who have you found?” an older brunette asks, indicating me.

  Dalia smirks and makes the introduction. “Mor, this is Erik. He’s one of Stellan’s friends. Erik, this is my mother, Lady Shane.” She pauses, eyeing me. “As you can see, the Shanes and the royal family are very close.”

  I repress an eye roll, bowing my head briefly. “It’s a pleasure, Lady Shane.”

  The Queen, who is usually noticeably absent, clears her throat politely. It’s obvious that Annika and her mother share the same gene pool; they have the exact same aristocratic nose, the same impossibly high cheekbones, the same pouty lips. I can tell exactly what Annika will look like in twenty years’ time just by glancing at her mother.

  And I have to say, she will still be undeniably beautiful.

  “Erik, it’s so nice to see you here,” the Queen says.

  I incline my head again, deeper this time. “Thank you, your highness. His Royal Highness is feeling well, I hope?”

  Without even thinking about it, I just casually mentioned her husband the former king. Until a recent Alzheimer’s diagnosis, he reigned as king for my entire life.

  A flush comes to the Queen’s cheeks. Annika kicks me under the table, shooting me a frown.

  The Queen recovers gracefully though. “He is very well. Thank you for asking. And thank you for taking care of Annika.” She smiles at her daughter, patting her hand. “She does need a little extra attention. Right, darling?”

  Annika’s cheeks turn scarlet. I expect her to say something sarcastic. But to my surprise, she doesn’t. She just looks down at her lap and mumbles, “Yes, mar.”

  My eyebrows rise a fraction. Looking back and forth between the Queen and her very unhappy daughter, I think that I’m missing some important info. I have no idea what, just that there is something about the Queen that makes proud, reckless Annika… submissive.

  What is that, exactly? I wonder about it while several waiters come around our table, filling our teacups with dark, fragrant tea. The Queen looks at me. “How have you been, Erik?”

  I raise my gaze from my teacup, feeling a little put on the spot. “Very well, your royal highness.”

  She smiles. “Please, call me Thora. We are practically family, after all. And besides, I feel like Margot and Stellan have really shaken things up in the royal family. I stepped down as Queen, Margot will take my place later this year…”

  Annika gives her mother a small smile. “That’s a good view to take.”

  Her mother tilts her head and sighs. “I was just talking to Stellan yesterday, and he said the same thing. Which of course meant the world to me…”

  Annika flinches at Stellan’s name, looking back down at her lap. The Queen doesn’t notice her daughter’s distress; she goes on to tell a long, rather uninteresting story about how as a child, Stellan would bring her flowers and brighten up her day.

  Dalia narrows her eyes at Annika, smirking just a bit. “That’s so wonderful. I’m glad one of your children only brings you joy. What do the others bring, I wonder?” She pretends to think about it for a second. “Nothing but news headlines, I suppose?”

  The Queen smiles and reaches out her hand to Annika’s. “My other children bring me joy. And occasionally, they are the thorns in my bouquet of roses. But they still make me proud.”

  Lady Shane clears her throat, sensing tension bubbling between Dalia and the Queen. “Of course. I am certain that Dalia only meant to tease. Didn’t you, dear?”

  Dalia beams. “Oh yes. Certainly. I didn’t mean to bring up those ugly headlines about Annika stuffing herself— “

  Annika shoots to her feet, her face contorting with rage. “That’s enough from you, Dalia. And FYI? You’ll never be a member of the royal family. My brothers all hate you— “

  “Okay!” I jump up, cutting her off. I laugh a little as I slip my arm around Annika. “You know, I think Annika is tired. Poor girl, we had a late event last night…”

  I see Annika’s chin start to wobble; a telltale sign of tears sure to come. The Queen folds her arms across her chest and looks displeased.

  “I see,” is all she has to say.

  “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us,” I say, bowing my head.

  Annika wrenches herself out of my grasp and storms off, leaving me to chase after her. It’s a little dicey because there are still waitstaff circling and serving the many other tables. Annika manages to slip through the crowd, something someone of my stature can’t do nearly as easily. But after dodging several tea-wielding servers, I catch up with Annika outside the ballroom.

  “Annika,” I try.

  “Don’t,” she warns, barely repressed fury in her tone. She dashes away a welling of tears from her eyes.

  She looks angry as she stalks down the hotel’s grand white marble hallway.

  “Annika—“ I say, trying to grab her.

  She suddenly stops, squaring off with me. Her head tips back, her face is flushed, and she glares at me utterly defiantly.

  “I won’t…” Her eyes suddenly shine with unshed tears, her voice growing strained. “I won’t… apologize.”

  I step closer, my hands coming up to brace her arms. Not a hug, exactly. But I can’t very well stand here and be a stone wall.

  “I wouldn’t ask you to,” I say, searching her face. She peers up at me, guileless, her blue eyes shimmering.

  “I know that you don’t want to be here,” she says, her voice breaking. “I know that you’re just doing as you’re told. The good little soldier. God, what must you think of me?”

  I grip her arms, frowning down at her. “I don’t know, Annika. I can’t seem to decide what to think.”

  Annika hangs her head. “If you read the newspapers, you’d have an opinion. Did you know they call me Princess Piggie?”

  A muscle ticks in my jaw. “That’s not how I see you.”

  “No?” She flexes her hands, looking down at them. “My hands feel weird.” She wheezes the next few breaths, looking back up at me with a distinct note of worry. “I… I can’t breathe. My chest is…” She shakes off my touch, clawing at her chest. She continues to struggle for breath. “I think… I feel like I’m dying.”

  My brow hunches. I glance around the hallway, feeling like a fish out of water. When Annika grips my arm hard, I glance back at her, feeling helpless.

  Fuck. Is she going to be okay? Do I need to get a doctor?

  “Get me…” she pauses, wheezing. “Get me somewhere quiet.”

  I can hear her struggle to breathe. I can feel the waves of anxiety coming off of her.

  “Okay.” I look around, spotting a door only a few paces away. “Come on.”

  I guide her to the door, opening it to find that it’s just an empty closet. I hesitate for a moment. But Annika breaks out of my hold, going straight inside and huddling in a corner.

  Leaving the door open a sliver, I get down on the floor beside her and try to offer some kind of comfort. She sits down and puts her head between her knees, leaning against my body.

  “It’s okay,” I say, looking down at the top of her golden head. “Everything is okay.”

  She wheezes, pulling oxygen into her lungs. She’s trembling, clenching and unclenching her fists. And I am just sitting here beside her, completely out of my depth.

  “Should I do something? Should I get someone to help?” I ask.

  Annika just shakes her head. She reaches out a hand to me. After a moment of staring at it, I take her hand and grip it in both of mine.

  I feel like a fucking idiot. Putting my arm around her shoulders, I wait for a few minutes. Her breathing relaxes a little. Her trembling subsides. She finally sits up, leaning her head back against the wall.

  “Fuck,” she says. “For a good ten minutes, I really felt like I was going to die.”

  I frown. “You should go to a doctor, Annika.”

  She chuckles humorlessly and glances at me out of the corner
of her eye. “Believe me, I did. It was just a panic attack. I’ve had them for years.”

  She tugs at her hand, which I have forgotten that I’m still holding onto. I let go, my neck heating.

  “I see,” is all I can manage.

  Annika gives her head a little shake. “I think that I’ll call it a day. Surely the royal press office can’t say anything if I’m sick. Help me up?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I climb to my feet. I offer her a hand, which she takes. As I hoist her up, she squeezes my hand. She pins me with her powder blue gaze and cocks her head.

  “Thanks,” she says softly. There is a moment, just a few beats of my heart, where something shimmers in the air between us.

  A sensation of emotional openness.

  Then she drops my hand, whirls toward the closet door, and bolts away. I’m left to follow her, my heart squeezing in my chest, a million questions crowding into my brain.

  11

  Erik

  Our chauffeur pulls the limousine around the entrance of Amalienborg castle. I take a moment to look at the majesty of the place. Made of light-colored brick, the four massive tan brick buildings all huddle in a circle, all saluting a rather large statue of a man on a horse. With their white-trimmed windows, dark roofs, and guards dressed in scarlet, the palaces definitely proudly exude money. It’s truly a sight to behold.

  I glance over at Annika. Her expensive black designer heels are on the seat between us. She has hiked up her floor length blue velvet dress to mid-thigh. The delicate silver tiara that adorned her upswept hair is tossed carelessly next to the shoes, and she’s run her fingers through her wavy mane. She is slumped against her door, scrolling through her phone with a glazed expression.

  For a second, my lips curl. She reminds me of nothing more than a big cat right now. Resting, yes, but still monitoring what is going on with a jaundiced eye.

  The second the limo pulls to a stop, she is in motion. She flings the door open and vaults herself out of the cool leather seats. She doesn’t wait for anyone to open the doors for her… and she completely ignores the tiara and shoes that she’s discarded.

  I frown and scoop them up, following her out of the car. Annika is already disappearing inside the palace, the tail of her long blue dress carelessly crumpled in one hand.

  I follow her inside and up the grand staircase with a sigh. “Annika!”

  She doesn’t even pause. She’s been acting oddly all night, as if she isn’t wasn’t aware of my presence. We went from a school opening in the morning to an afternoon at a water polo match and ended the evening at some charity gala or another.

  And the whole time, I never once saw her smile in my direction or even acknowledge my existence. So, when I enter her private living area, I am not really in any mood for her drama and hysterics.

  “Annika!” I call again, trying to project my voice into the open doorway across the room. She has disappeared into her bedroom but left the door ajar. “You forgot your fucking tiara and your goddamn shoes!”

  Her golden head appears in the doorway, her guileless eyes piercing me through and through. “Could you help me with the zipper to this dress? It’s stuck.”

  Squinting at her, I nod. “Yes, your highness. Whatever my mistress desires.”

  Arching a brow, Annika steps back through the doorway, a smirk on her lips. “You’re very salty tonight, Erik. My grandmother would hate that you’re talking to me in such an insubordinate manner.”

  My eyes travel down the length of her body. Midnight blue velvet clings to all the right places. Her tits look amazing. The curve of her hips is alluring. And her tight little ass in that dress?

  It looks more expensive than all the money and jewels in this house, combined.

  Annika walks over to me, turning around. She holds her long platinum hair up and flashes me the back of her neck and her sleek upper back.

  My heart starts to pound. How Annika always does that to me, I have no idea. All I know is that being so close to her, reaching out to touch her… it’s definitely filling my head with perverted thoughts.

  I move closer, seeking the hidden zipper that runs along the column of her spine. As my fingers brush the back of her dress, all I can think about is the feel of her lips pressed against mine and the little sounds she made when I kissed her.

  Swallowing, I manage to unzip her dress, baring her sun kissed bare skin to my eyes. I blink, forcing myself to step back. “I’m done,” I say, averting my eyes.

  I feel like such a fucking predator right now, preying on someone so much younger and more inexperienced than I am. Yet Annika turns around, a mischievous glint in her eye.

  “Thanks. Pour me a drink, will you? I have to change out of this dress.” She points to the bar cart near the floor to ceiling window.

  I narrow my eyes at her as she vanishes through the doorway leading to her bedroom once more. “Annika…” I husk out, shaking my head.

  She has no answer for that, it seems. I turn toward the door but can’t seem to make myself walk out of this room.

  What is it with this girl? Why do I feel so much… lighter when I’m around her?

  Heaving a sigh, I walk over to the bar cart. There are only those funny-looking prohibition-era coupe glasses on top. It pairs well with the little fridge filled with several bottles of expensive champagne.

  Shaking my head, I pop one of the bottles of champagne and fill two glasses with the aromatic bubbles.

  When I find a seat on the gray tweed couch, sipping the champagne, Annika reappears. I almost do a spit take at the slinky little white silk robe she’s wearing.

  “Ah, thanks,” she says, tossing her hair and taking the coupe glass from my hand. She sits down beside me.

  I swallow and stare. Just six inches of couch sit between me and her silky-looking, bare knees and thighs. She sips at her champagne.

  “That hits the spot.”

  I drag my eyes back to my glass and make a noncommittal noise. “Mm.”

  She leans back on the couch and scrunches up her face. “That charity event was boring with a capital b.”

  I swirl the contents of my glass and glance at her. “I wasn’t even sure what it was to raise money for, actually. But it seemed to be in poor taste to ask.”

  She throws back her head and laughs. The sound is low and throaty. “Hah! It was for school lunches or something.”

  “Yeah. I mean… there were ladies that stood in front of the whole audience and talked. But I’ll be damned if I can remember what they talked about. My mind definitely wandered.”

  Annika tilts her head to the side, sizing me up. “What did you think about? You’re always so mysterious. Just a huge, brooding question mark to me at all times.”

  My neck heats. I definitely spent no less than thirty percent of that time wondering what exactly Annika had on beneath her slinky dress. And fantasizing about what I would do with her if she were anyone else in the world…

  I clear my throat. “I was plotting my next move on the stock market.”

  Her eyes widen; her expression turns questioning. “What do you mean?”

  I give her an odd look, a teasing smile on my lips. “Do you need me to speak more slowly? How can I be clearer about what I just said?”

  She bats my shoulder. “I meant… like… are you trading stocks or something?”

  I roll my eyes a little. “Yes, princess.”

  A little line of worry forms in her brow. “Are you any good at it? Like… do you make money doing it?”

  I shrug. “I do all right.”

  She nods slowly. “I had no idea.”

  “No one does.” I chuckle, sipping my drink. The bubbles burst on my tongue, almost too sweet to even drink. I roll the wine around my mouth.

  “This is really terrible champagne.” I set my glass on the floor.

  Annika glance at her coupe, shrugging. “I don’t know. It’s whatever the sommelier buys for the palace.”

  “So, it’s fancy and terrible. Goo
d to know.” I sigh, sitting back against the rough tweed of the couch. “Buying that wine was a decision… but that isn’t the worst advice I’ve ever received. Actually, it’s not even the worst thing that has been pitched to me today.”

  Annika’s lips turn upwards. “No?”

  “Nope. This morning, a professor cornered me at the event and told me all about how solar cells are really going to power everything in two years’ time.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “If it makes you feel any better, some woman at the gala caught me in the line for the bathroom. She told me about how she feels for me every time she sees me in the newspapers. And then she started talking about some kind of radical self-love movement…” She shudders. “She was one of those ladies that doesn’t wear a bra but needs to.”

  I roll my eyes. “Did she have a pamphlet? I hate when they have pamphlets to show me.”

  She flashes me a dimple. “No. She did tell me to look up radical self-love on Instagram, though.”

  I laugh. “You’ll have to report back when you’ve learned what that is. Unless it’s just… you know, masturbating a lot.”

  She crows with laughter, batting me on the arm again. “Shut up. You think it could be?”

  I lean closer to her, lured by her laugh. “I think the probability is high.”

  She grins, wrinkling her nose. “Ah, I needed to laugh. This… this is nice.”

  “What?”

  It’s only then that I realize how close we are sitting. I kept moving closer, charmed by her smile. But I see now that we are probably too close.

  Okay, definitely too close.

  I clear my throat, moving back a few inches. “Sorry. I forgot that.”

  I trail off, not really wanting to finish that sentence.

  That we need way more space between us?

  That I’m just here to babysit you?

  That if there weren’t a title on the line I wouldn’t even be here right now?

  She scrunches up her face. “Don’t be so weird. You were just starting to be a normal person, Erik.”

  I shoot her a glare. “And what was I before, Annika?”