Clara and Freja exchange a look, brows raised, and then quickly scamper off down the hall, shooting me one last wary look before they go in their room. So I’m guessing this isn’t about the kidnapped pig at all.
“What, uh, is it?” I ask as he pushes past me, striding into the middle of the room while he takes out his phone.
I slowly close the door behind me and turn to face him. I’m not going any closer.
“This,” he says emphatically, holding the phone out for me to see, his arm stiff. I have no choice but to come forward until I see the screen.
It’s a picture of me.
No.
A breathless gasp falls from my lips as I take the phone from him.
I have no idea what it says but it’s obviously some Danish tabloid or gossip site and there’s a whole slew of pictures of me and the girls from yesterday. Of course, they’re all terribly unflattering and you can almost see up my skirt from the picture where I’m crouching down and trying to console Clara.
“You have two seconds to explain yourself,” he says.
“That’s hardly enough time,” I say weakly, because fuck, it’s worse than I imagined. Why are there so many pictures? Oh shit, there’s even a video! Some wanker was videoing us at the part when I told them I’d sue them!
I give the phone back to Aksel and put my face in my hands, trying to breathe. I didn’t think this invasion of privacy would bother me like this but it’s so much worse than I imagined. I feel absolutely violated, and more than that, I feel like I failed as a nanny. My job was to take care of Clara and Freja and this feels like I flat-out failed. This didn’t protect them at all, and now they’re tabloid fodder all because of me.
“You fucked up,” Aksel says, and his words are knives into my heart, only adding to the pain. “Part of your job description is to keep these girls away from the paparazzi and to keep them calm and orderly. They aren’t some daughters of a CEO in France, they are heirs to the throne of Denmark!”
I turn and glare at him, feeling heat rising up my throat, spreading across my face. “They’re still girls, and girls are going to have breakdowns and temper tantrums every now and then.” I don’t know where I find the nerve to argue back but I feel like I’m at a breaking point.
His jaw clenches as he angrily shoves the phone back in his robe. It’s only now that I’m realizing he’s just in pajamas underneath. He must have woken up and seen this first thing. “Your job, Aurora, is to make sure these temper tantrums are managed. Your job isn’t to make it worse. Yelling at the public like that? Threatening to sue? Do you know how that looks? Do you know what you’ve done?”
God, he’s mean. So handsome and so mean.
“Well, they shouldn’t be filming us!” I yell. “If it were anyone else they wouldn’t dare!”
“That’s because we’re not anyone else! I don’t care who you worked for before, none of it counts. I don’t think you’ve gotten it through your thick skull yet that this is a royal fucking family.”
Whoa. Whoa. “Thick skull?” I repeat, and now I feel hot tears prickling behind my eyes.
Oh my god. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry here!
“Yes,” he says, though he hesitates slightly. “Because you don’t act like you get it. I haven’t changed my opinion about you. You’re just not fit for this job, you’re not cut out for it. If you were, then this wouldn’t happen.”
Holy fuck. This hurts. I mean, this hurts. I knew he was an asshole but his words never hurt me until now. Jesus, why am I even letting him get to me?
Maybe because I believe it myself.
Maybe because he’s right.
Maybe because it’s been nearly a month and I still feel like I’ve barely got my head above water. I’ve been trying so hard to persevere and stay positive and go with the flow but … but …
The tears start to spill.
Shit. I can’t cry in front of him. He’ll probably fire me for crying if he hasn’t fired me already.
I turn away from him, choking on a sob, and head for the bathroom.
He grabs my arm and pulls me toward him before I even get two steps.
His palm is warm against my forearm, his grip strong. I keep my eyes closed, my face turned from his, trying to breathe through it.
Don’t cry, don’t cry. Suck it up.
“Hey,” he says to me, his accent deepening. “What’s this?”
What’s this? Despite myself, I look up at him through blurry eyes. “I have a hard time believing you’ve never made anyone cry before.”
Then I pull my arm out of his grip and wipe away my tears with the heel of my palm, taking a few more deep breaths until I know the tears are at bay.
“Look,” he says. His voice is quiet, his stance unsure. He doesn’t know what to do with me now. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
He frowns. “For … making you cry.”
I sniffle and tighten the sash around my robe. “I’m not crying over you, so don’t flatter yourself. I’m crying because … because you’re right. Because maybe I’m not cut out for this. I’m trying but … it’s hard. It’s really hard. And yesterday was horrible.”
He exhales through his nose, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I should have given you more warning about the paparazzi. I know they can be hard to avoid, I just … I’m trying to protect my little girls. I don’t want intimate moments like this to end up as gossip for the masses. Do you understand?”
“I understand. Of course I understand. I want the same things for them as you do. But you knew that we were going to this theme park.”
He runs a hand down his face in frustration. “I know. That’s the problem. I also want them to be little girls. I don’t know what the happy medium is. Before … there was Helena.”
“And she took care of them.”
“No,” he says quickly, something flashing in his eyes. Then he relaxes slightly. “No, we both did. It was just that she planned it all. She handled it, for lack of a better word. I should have done more but … those were our roles. And now I’m a single father and honestly … I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how I’ll be able to raise them without her.”
Oh my god. He’s being honest. And real. And his eyes aren’t this cutting glare anymore but there’s a softness to them, to his face. It makes me want to keep staring at him, to keep pulling back that hard exterior, to see what he’s really like. If he has a heart that beats.
“I know you’ve lost a lot,” I tell him, and he automatically stiffens. I’ve said the wrong thing. “But the girls have too. I couldn’t have avoided that tantrum, no one could have, because Clara is a girl who lost her mother and misses her very much.”
“She knows better than to break down like that, especially in public. Freja, perhaps…”
“No. Both of them lost the biggest part of their lives. I don’t care if Clara pretends to have it all together, she’s allowed to break, over and over again. They both are. They’re not as good at pretending as you are and they don’t have to be.”
“Pretending?” he says harshly.
I shrug, knowing I’m back to pushing his buttons again. “When you wear a crown, you wear a mask.”
His eyes narrow again, the softness gone. “You don’t know me enough to make that presumption.”
“That’s not my fault,” I tell him. “We could get to know each other better. I’ve told you this time and time again.”
“You’re forgetting your role, your place. It’s a very distinctive one.”
I can’t help but shake my head. Talking to him makes me feel so fucking small.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I whisper.
“What?” he says, taken aback, like this actually shocks him. “I don’t hate you.”
“Then why are you so bloody mean to me?”
His brows raise, mouth dropping just a bit. “I don’t … I don’t mean to be. I guess you just frustrate me.”
“Frustrate you? W
hy?”
He stares at me for a beat, and though I can see so much in his eyes, I can’t read any of it. “I don’t know,” he says quietly.
“Probably because you’re not used to dealing with normal people. Only the upper class, the aristocrats, the ones with blue blood. Royals. I’m the opposite of all of that. Always have been.”
I watch as he swallows, his eyes still locked on mine. If only I could read them, if only I could understand what he was thinking.
But why would I? It would just be something cruel.
“Probably,” he says after a pause.
Tension seems to fill the air between us, followed by palpable silence.
I clear my throat and take in a big breath, squaring my shoulders, wanting everything to be right again. “I just want you to know, that I did what I could with the girls and that’s the best I can do. After Clara melted down, we left. I saw people taking photos, and I know I should have behaved with more decorum than I did, but it is what it is. I can … I can work on being proper. You just have to give me time. Hell, give me a chance. I’m not sure that you have yet.”
He wiggles his jaw for a moment, then nods. I wonder if the bastard has any idea of how handsome he is. Probably.
“Okay.”
“So we’re cool?” I ask him, holding out my hand for him to shake.
And by cool I mean, not fired?
He glances at it, and I swear I see a smile flash for a second. It’s like trying to photograph lightning. “Yes, we’re cool,” he says, grabbing my hand. But he doesn’t shake it. He just gives it a long squeeze, the kind that makes that same lightning carry up through my veins, setting my heart on fire.
Then he lets go of my hand and turns toward the door.
“Aksel?” I call after him, thinking I might get flack for not addressing him as a king.
He stops and looks at me curiously.
“About the girls,” I say cautiously. “The reason why Clara was having problems. It’s because the last time they were at Tivoli, you were there as a family. It was awkward with just the three of us, with rides and everything. Anyway … I know it’s my habit to step on your toes and everything, but if I can make a suggestion?” He looks at me expectantly, to keep going. “I think they want to feel like a family again. Maybe there’s an outing we can do, the four of us. Maja too, if you want. And before you say anything, I know I’m not Helena, I’m the nanny. I am so very aware of that. I just think it would be good for them.”
He seems to consider that. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
I can’t help the grin on my face, knowing how happy the girls are going to be.
It fades quickly when a very loud squeal sounds out from the hallway, followed by shouts and a stampede of both human and pig feet.
“What the hell was that?” Aksel cries out wildly.
Oh right. Snarf Snarf.
I give him a sheepish smile. “Okay, promise me you won’t get mad…”
Chapter 9
Aksel
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Stella, is here,” Agnes announces from the doorway to my office.
I glance up at her from my desk, putting my paperwork aside. “You can just call her my sister, you know.”
Agnes does not look amused. “Regardless, she’s here.” Then she turns and leaves.
I sigh. Seems like Aurora’s no respect for authority attitude is infectious among the staff.
I get up and start to head down the stairs to the first floor where the greeting room is when I run into Aurora herself on the staircase, who seems to be in a hurry, taking the steps two at a time.
Is it sad that I’ve really taken a shine to that uniform of hers? Lord help me if she ever finds out.
“Where are you going?” I ask her, grabbing her lightly by the arm.
“Aren’t we leaving now?” she says with those big eyes of hers. “I think your sister is here, I need to get the girls’ things.”
“Let Agnes or Johan do that,” I tell her, pulling her back down. “Come with me, you need to meet Stella and Anya.”
Aurora seems to hesitate, and then lets me lead her down the stairs. I don’t let go of her arm until I’m confident she won’t run away. Plus, her skin is horribly soft and silky. Distracting.
“I hope you warned your sister about Snarf Snarf,” she says.
“I didn’t. But that’s half the fun, isn’t it?”
The corner of her mouth quirks up. “You know how to have fun? Wow.”
I’m still in disbelief that this Snarf Snarf has been part of our family for three weeks now. When I first discovered that the girls had a goddamn pig in the house, it came right on the heels of the tabloid article of them at Tivoli. I think I about had a heart attack and lost my temper at Aurora, again.
For once, though, she was on my side and wanted the pig gone, back to the farm it was unscrupulously taken from. I just didn’t plan for the tears and guilt trip from Clara and Freja, who seemed to have a whole performance and speech planned out for that very instant. In fact, I’m starting to think their whole idea to go to the farm after Tivoli was part of some elaborate pig heist.
They talked about how they never had a pet even though they’d always asked for dogs and kittens and ponies (it was actually Helena that was adamant there be no animals in the house), that they had a void they needed filled, that they had all this love to give, that it would teach them responsibility and be a learning experience for them. They went full out. Then it was topped off with, “And we’re princesses. A princess should be able to have a pig if she wants.”
Maybe it was because of Clara’s public meltdown and the realization that the girls aren’t as strong as I thought, maybe it was because Aurora looked at me differently when I started to cave in. Either way, I said they could keep the pig on two conditions. One, that I never smell it. Two, that I never see it. If either of those conditions were to be broken, that pig would end up on the plate at Christmas dinner and, yes, I would force the girls to eat him.
Naturally, both those conditions have already been broken because, have you ever had a pig in your house? Damn impossible to ignore.
Aurora has been walking by my side as she usually does but just before I go through the doors into the greeting room, she hangs back, as if remembering proper protocol. I glance at her over my shoulder in surprise and she just gives me a meek smile, keeping her head down.
I have to say, for the first time, it feels wrong to see her like that.
She’s just being a nanny, I remind myself. The role you always remind her of.
“Stella,” I say to my sister as I step into the room, and as I expected she comes straight over to me and pulls me into a tight hug.
“Good to see you, Brother,” she says to me, kissing me on the cheek. “It’s been too long.”
“It has,” I tell her, smiling at her warmly. My sister is about eight years younger than me and went through a bitter divorce earlier this year which had her and her young daughter, Anya, moving from Denmark to England. When Aurora brought up the idea of us all having an outing as a family, I thought I should invite Stella as well. Anya is a year older than Clara and they all get along really well, so it would be nice for them to have that family connection again.
“And Anya,” I say to her as she shyly plays with her pigtails. “You must be excited for our trip to Legoland.”
Anya nods. She’s slow to warm up to me sometimes but she’ll come around.
“Oh,” I say, switching to English and putting my arm out in a gesture for Aurora to come forward. “This is Clara and Freja’s new nanny, Aurora.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Aurora says, doing a modest curtsey.
“If you’re working for my brother then no formalities are needed,” Stella says, coming over to shake her hand. “Besides, I’m barely a royal. I’m the black sheep of the family. Getting a divorce and all that.”
Aurora smiles at her. “I’ve only heard great things about you from Aksel.�
�
I stare at Aurora for a moment since I’ve barely ever mentioned Stella to her before. But here she is, trying to talk me up for some reason.
Stella playfully nudges me. “Great things? That surprises me.”
I murmur in agreement, wondering what Aurora’s game is. Surely she wouldn’t be nice to me for the sake of being nice, would she?
A horrendous high-pitched squeal interrupts us, which makes Stella gasp.
I glare at Aurora. “Remember condition number one?”
“That was that you didn’t smell him.”
“For helvede,” Stella says, eyes bugging out of her head. “What was that?”
“That was Snarf Snarf,” Aurora explains.
“Snarf Snarf?”
“Yes, because apparently that’s what a pig sounds like in Danish,” she says. “I always thought it was a Thundercats reference, but no.”
“Aksel?” Stella looks at me in disbelief.
“A pig!?” Anya exclaims.
“The girls have a pet now,” I say dryly, refusing to find any humor in the situation. I glance at Aurora. “Perhaps you should go check on them. We need to go soon anyway.”
Aurora nods and quickly leaves the room.
“She’s pretty,” Stella remarks as she watches her go, seemingly impressed. “I can see why you hired her.”
I try not to roll my eyes. “No. That’s exactly why I didn’t want to hire her.”
“Because she’s pretty?”
“Because people like you would make assumptions like you just did, thinking I’m some lecherous old man.”
She laughs. “Oh, Aksel. You can hardly be called lecherous, or old, for that matter.”
“Can I go play with the pig?” Anya asks politely. I glance at her and she’s obviously been dying to go out there and join her cousins.
I shrug and look at Stella. “If your mother says it’s alright. But we need to leave in five minutes.”
Anya runs off and Stella smirks, shaking her head.
“What?” I ask. Stella always has some opinion about something.
“I just never thought you’d have a pet pig running around the palace, that’s all. If our parents could see you now...”
A Nordic King Page 11