by Vivian Wood
He frowns, looking pensive. "You know what I just figured out? I just realized that there is a lot more to you than meets the eye. You’re way, way deeper than you want people to think."
I give him a sad little smile. "Maybe."
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes ever so briefly. Then he drops a kiss on my lips and steps back, turning toward where he left his phone.
Before I know it, we are bundled into the back of the limo, heading for the private airport. I keep looking at Erik, needing to reassure myself or maybe comfort him. But he just looks worried, not paying any attention to me. We pull up to the tarmac and he slides me a look, giving me a brief smile. Then he squeezes my hand and opens the door.
He slides out before I can even think of what to say. And I follow him after a second, reminding myself that his needs come first right now.
26
Erik
I look out over the city lights of Copenhagen, standing on the penthouse balcony of this building that is near the hospital where my father is staying. I have always known that this place was owned by the royal family, but it's Annika’s first time here. She's somewhere behind me, through the open patio doors and in the lavish luxury loft. If you can call this place a loft…
After all, it may be only one room, but it's also the entire floor. At some point, you reach a place where it's just ridiculous to call any place like this something so silly as a loft.
I suck in a breath and shake my head. I picked this place because of its proximity to Copenhagen's best hospital. But my father is still refusing to see me. I flew back to Copenhagen and put Nika at risk of the paparazzi finding out that she is in town. I did all that for no reason, as it turns out.
Why is my father such a bastard?
"Erik?"
I turn to find Nika just steps behind me, looking concerned. She beckons me inside. "Come on. You haven't eaten all day. Let me make you a sandwich or something, at least."
My eyebrows raise. Lured by her offer and no little amount of curiosity, I step inside and close the doors behind me. The walls of the loft are all glass. Everything inside is sleek and light colored and modern. The overlarge living room area that is to my left, the dining room table set up to my right, and straight ahead is a truly luxurious kitchen that any chef would die to have.
I follow Annika toward it, noting the stainless steel appliances and the huge marble island. She walks to the refrigerator and opens it, biting her lip as she frowns at the contents.
"Oh, I thought… I assumed that there would be… like sandwich things or something." She flushes, looking up at me. "It looks like we are out of luck unless we want some expensive wine and cheese."
I exaggerate my eye roll for her benefit. "Move over, Princess. I’ll make something very simple for us. You need to eat as much as I do."
I catch a tiny frown on her face, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. She relinquishes her space at the fridge. I quickly assemble a platter of the expensive cheeses, bread, sliced fruits, and cucumbers. I add a couple glasses of sparkling wine, sliding it all onto the marble countertop.
Nika cants her head at me. "We should eat in the living room. Come on."
She picks up the platter of food and her champagne flute and makes her way to the living room. I snag the bowl of bread and my own drink, following her. I would never think to eat on the expensive looking white fabric couches that line the corner of the penthouse. But Princess Annika does it without thinking about it. She and I are just fundamentally different, I suppose.
She throws herself down on the couch, putting the wooden platter of food down beside herself. I take my own seat on the other side of her with more caution, settling the bread down between us. She glances at me, tucking her fair hair back behind her shoulder. She raises her glass, biting her lip.
"Is it tacky to toast right now?” That same little frown appears on her face.
I shake my head. "I don't think so, no. Cheers."
We clink our classes together and then I lift my flute to my lips, taking a long pull of the wine. It's extremely sweet but there is a certain satisfaction that I feel, a poor man toasting with the most expensive champagne in all of Denmark. That's nothing to sneeze at.
I sip my wine and look out at the dark landscape of Copenhagen. There are a million thoughts playing over and over again.
How my father is a bastard.
How I feel like I've done something to let him down, even though a part of me knows that that's not the truth.
How I'm sitting in this penthouse, surrounded by all of this obscene wealth and yet I know that none of it is mine.
So, I brood. I drink my champagne and nibble on a piece of cheese. And I think over all the things that have been bothering me ever since I got the fateful call this morning.
Nika sets her glass down and looks at me carefully. "I can see that you have a lot of things on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?"
I squint at her, finishing the last of my wine before setting my glass aside. "You don't really want to hear it. It's all just noise."
She bites her lip, a wrinkle appearing in her brow. "Yes, I do. I want to hear whatever you are thinking."
I arch my eyebrows at her and tilt my head. "Really?"
She rolls her eyes at me. "Yes, really. I'm here for you. I'm listening."
She adjusts her position on the couch, pulling her short white skirt down an inch and looking at me quite seriously. I shrug my shoulders, looking away over her shoulder at the darkened city skyline.
"I don't know. I was just thinking that…" I pause, trying to think of how to word what I am feeling. "I know that this emergency isn't about me. But I'm just so mad at my father. He is such a bastard. Of course he doesn't want the nurses fussing over him. He just wants… He just wants to go back to his little cottage and drink himself to death."
Nika frowns. "That has to be frustrating. It's hard to care for people that don't care about themselves."
I inhale a deep breath and nod. "My father makes it next to impossible. One minute he curses me for how invested I am in the royal family. He says that I am too uppity, and I need to learn my place. He seems to think that I belong back with him, working in the stables. And the next moment, he pushes me away, saying I'm a lost cause. It's definitely hard to be around him."
Her brows rise and she scoots forward, frowning at the platter of food between us. She gets up and moves to the other side of me, settling herself on the couch, one knee overlapping my own. She presses herself close, leaning her head against the couch.
I find myself grabbing her hand, twining our fingers. She gives me a squeeze, shooting me a comforting look. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with this. It isn't fair."
I squint off into the distance, uncomfortable just now with meeting her gaze. "I mean, it is what it is. Everybody has their things. If the royal family has taught me nothing else, it's that everyone's life is hard, no matter how glamorous it might seem from the outside."
The ghost of a smile crosses her lips. "That's very true. It doesn't lessen the burden for you, though."
I glance at her, scanning her face. "Ah, shit. I wish I hadn't told you any of it. I don't want to seem… I don't know. Weak, I guess."
Her eyebrows fly up. She leans close to me, her hand clutching my own. "Erik, look at me."
I still, my gaze latching onto hers. She looks so perfect and so untouchable in that moment. She grips my hand.
"When you are vulnerable with me, it makes me trust you more. It makes me feel like you're letting me in. It makes me feel so special. It's important to me that you understand that."
My eyes widen the little. I cocked my head, not quite knowing how to respond to that. I end up chuckling. "Okay… That sounds a little crazy but…"
"But nothing. It's how I feel. And that is the only true thing that I know." She leans in and offers her mouth up to me for a kiss.
I press my lips to hers, my thoughts in a mess. Her mouth feels so damn
good beneath my lips, like honey and cinnamon and something utterly unique. She draws back after a second, her eyes shining with tears.
I didn't expect her to cry. That's the last thing in the world that I want right now.
I cup her face, using my thumbs to brush away the tears glittering in the corners of her eyes.
"Hey, hey. I thought we were getting along. What's the deal with the tears?"
She gives me a slow smile. "We are. I just… I guess I'm overwhelmed."
I take a moment to kiss her lips again and then whisper gently against them. "Is that a bad thing?"
She's shakes her head, putting her hands on my shoulders. "No. I think it's just a part of us growing closer. I think it's pretty natural to experience some wild emotions when you're… I mean… you know, whatever we are."
I trace my hands down her neck to her shoulders and then continue down until my hands grip her waist. I look at her, her beautiful, powder blue eyes seeming like they know my innermost thoughts. "And what are we, exactly?"
A hint of surprise shows on her features. "What do you mean?"
I bite my lip and smirk at her just a little. "Is this a relationship? Or are you going to leave me the second you get your freedom back?"
She closes her eyes for a brief second. I was only kidding, but now her hesitation has me sucking in a breath. When she opens her eyes again, there are wet with a fresh batch of tears.
When she speaks, it sounds like a threadbare whisper. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"
My gaze tightens on her face. Am I asking that? I take a few seconds and exhale.
"I don’t know. I mean… I know we aren’t going to last forever. But it would be nice to pretend for a little while, wouldn’t it?"
She launches herself into my arms, hugging me with such force that I can't breathe for a moment. She giggles and pushes me backwards on the couch, kissing me soundly. It's strange to feel her taking control for a moment. So, I wrested the control from her hands and flipped the script on her.
I reach up and grab her face, fisting both my hands in her hair and kissing her so hard that I swear I can almost taste blood. She doesn't lose an ounce of her eagerness, either.
She moans under my touch, writhing against my body like a heathen.
I pick her up and carry her into the first bedroom I find, stripping myself bare and then doing the same to her. And then I proceed to fuck her until we are both unable to move, hours and hours of skin to skin and clutched sheets and sultry moans.
In the dark, many hours later, we lie in bed together, me on my back and her on her side, pressed against me. Whatever anguish I was feeling before over my father's hospitalization, I feel empty now. I fucked it all out of my system, apparently. I lie on my back, sweat cooling, and think of absolutely nothing.
She's pulled the sheets up, very insistent on that fact. And I let it go because there isn't a damn thing I care about outside of this bedroom.
She surprises me by bringing up the same topic that we were talking about hours before.
"Can I tell you something?" she asks, her voice a frail thing.
My voice has gone to gravel. I clear my throat. "You can tell me anything, princess."
In the dark, I can just make out her shy smile. "I was just thinking about you and your father. And I realize that we have something in common."
I turned my head to look at her. "Oh yeah?"
She nods. "I think we both longed for approval as kids. Right?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
She makes a face. “We looked around for the people that were supposed to love us, namely our parents. And they weren't there. I know we had very different childhoods, but I think we have more in common than we think."
I give her a surprised look. "That's some pretty heavy thinking that you been doing."
She ducks her head. "After I read through that book on body positivity and self-love, I picked up a dozen more self-help books. It's slow going, but I'm finding out new things on every single page."
I stare at her for a beat. "I didn't realize that you were interested in all that. I mean, more than the radical self-love stuff."
She looks away for a moment. I imagine that her cheeks are glowing red by now. "Well, I am."
I reach out, turning her face back towards me. I place a gentle kiss on her lips and then look at her meaningfully. "I think it's great. I have almost no interest in that, but I support you being curious."
She bites her lip. "Do you think I'm right though? About how we had similar childhoods?"
I think about that for a second. "I don't know. I mean, I guess so. My father was never around because he was busy working the stables or passed out drunk. My mom left when I was very young. She never came back. And when your father offered to take me off my father’s hands, my father jumped at the opportunity.”
She rubs circles on my chest, nodding. “Yes.”
“And your family obviously had their own set of issues. I mean… Not to speak badly of them, but they didn't give a fuck about anyone other than themselves."
Nika scrunches her nose. "I know. They really were just not around almost all of my childhood. I had mom. And I had all my brothers… But I never really had a family. I mean, not in the traditional sense of the word. It’s funny to think of the King of Denmark having such a mess of a family."
I reached my arm around her, squeezing her waist. "I'm sorry that your parents missed out on you, Nika. You're pretty wonderful for having essentially raised yourself."
That same shy smile comes over her face again. "You too, Erik."
I kiss her one more time, then close my eyes and let my breathing even out. It's nice, laying here with my… well, my girlfriend. It's the first time for that, at least.
I settle in, opening my eyes a crack. Just to check on her before I fall asleep. But to my surprise, I find her wide eyed and frowning, as she lies on my chest.
"Hey. Whatever you're worried about, it can wait until tomorrow."
She raises her eyes to me, her frown deepening. "I guess so."
I sigh and open my eyes a little bit more, continuing our talk even though I'm basically exhausted. "What's on your mind?"
I can feel the hesitancy rolling off of her in waves. She sighs, bringing both her hands up to cover her face. "I don't mean to be a bummer."
I groan and raise myself up on my arm, frowning down on her. "Well now you have to tell me. What are you thinking about that has you all worked up?"
She lowers her hands and looks at me. "Our relationship."
"I'm going to need a little bit more to go on than that."
She scrunches up her face. "People won't understand. The world will judge us. And… I don't even want to think about what my brother will think?"
Stellan.
Thinking about him is like a punch to the gut. I can just imagine his face when he finds out that I am dating his little sister. Some combination of fury and outrage will run across his features, I'm sure.
Still, that doesn't change the fact that I have feelings for Nika. If anything, it makes my feelings more pronounced.
I glance at her. "Does that make a difference to you?"
She bites her lip, hesitating again. My heart starts to pound. And then she shakes her head, tucking her platinum hair behind her ear. "It doesn't. It should, but it doesn't."
I gather her up in my arms, shifting onto my side and kissing the top of her head. "Good."
She places her small hand on my upper arm and buries her head against my bare chest. If she continues to have doubts, she doesn't say anything about them. Soon her breathing slows and evens out, letting me know that she is near sleep.
But she has unintentionally infected me with her worries. Because now I can't get Stellan’s enraged face out of my head. And even as I close my eyes, he follows me into sleep…
27
Annika
Just a couple days later, I am sitting at the kitchen island, sneaking a look at my iP
ad. I haven't had any contact with the outside world other than a phone call with Kal. And so far, I've been pretty much happy. But some part of me, some self-destructive little voice in the back of my head, is screaming at me to check my social media accounts.
I bite my lip and open twitter, my heartbeat already pounding in my ears before the page even loads.
Is Annika drying out somewhere?
Maybe she is on a permanent vacation where she can just eat and booze all day and all night…
Good riddance. Denmark is better without her.
What will we do without our very own Princess Piggie?
Each snide comment is captioned on a different unflattering picture from the red carpet event. I look like a hot mess in those photos, drunk and a little too thin and completely out of the loop. My artfully done make up is marred by my tears. And of course, there is a picture of me in full breakdown mode, being scooped off my feet and into Erik's arms.
Ugh, I hate myself so much. Why did I even look at Twitter?
I turn off my iPad and leave my head down on my arms. The cool marble countertop receives my tears, the stone unflinching. I don't even remember my eyes welling up. I just feel like everything in the world is piling on top of me, forcing me down, caging me in.
I struggle to draw in a breath. Shit, it's happening again.
One glance at social media and I'm in a tailspin, having a panic attack.
What should I do?
I feel my chest tightening and I’m aware of my hands turned numb.
Shit. Shit. If Erik sees this, he will probably freak out.
I push myself to my feet, looking around the house. My vision is wonky, going black at the edges. I try to stagger to the couch, but I don't make it all the way. Instead I tumble to the ground in the middle of the room, crying and sobbing and gasping for breath. I curl up in a ball, praying like hell that this will pass.
It feels like I'm dying, though.
And this exact moment is when Erik decides to come back in from taking a shower. He is clad in only a towel and his wet hair is slicked back. He takes one look at me and breaks into a run, scurrying over to my side and dropping to his knees.