by Merry Farmer
“Too soon to meet the parents?” Arne grinned. He intended to be nonchalant with his comment, but, in fact, it felt like he was genuinely asking her to meet his parents and all that implied.
After a short pause, she said, “I’d love to.”
“Thank you so, so much for saying that,” he sighed. “You don’t know how much I need to just hang out with you today.”
“I can guess,” she said, then quickly added, “From your voice, I mean. I can tell how tense you are.”
He frowned slightly, wondering where her burst of anxiety came from. “I’ll pick you up at the hotel again? In, say, two hours? That ought to give me time to sort things out here.” He paused. “Unless you’re already here at the arena.” He glanced around, but the only people he saw were Aegirian.
“You’d better pick me up at the hotel,” Emma said, still with anxiety in her voice. “And two hours is good. I’ll, uh, see you then.” She ended the phone all as though she were in a hurry.
Arne pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it in surprise. Part of him wondered what that was all about, but most of him didn’t care. He was about to spend the afternoon with the most wonderful woman he’d met in a long time.
5
Emma ended her call with a grin. She stepped out from the alcove she’d ducked into and squinted down the arena’s huge hall to see Arne disappearing around a corner. She felt as giddy as a three-year-old before an Easter egg hunt. Lunch with the royal family on their yacht? Yes, please! Maybe she really was in a fairy tale after all.
She started down the hall in the opposite direction from Arne, looking for a door that would lead her onto the arena floor, which was the only place through which she knew how to access the dressing rooms behind the stage. Two hours was plenty of time to de-Fuchsia and get ready for lunch. She was almost glad that rehearsal was postponed, although she’d need a 32-gallon drum of coffee to keep her awake through the night and on to Friday.
Thoughts of coffee and yachts and handsome princes kept a smile on her face right up until she reached the stage and started across to the dressing rooms.
“Just where do you think you’re going, missy?” Hoss caught her.
Emma turned, tamping down the irritation that filled her every time Hoss spoke. “Back to the hotel to nap,” she said.
“Uh huh.” Hoss narrowed his eyes as he walked toward her. “I’m not paying you to nap. I’m paying you to perform.”
Two years ago, when Hoss had first plucked her out of the crowd auditioning for the latest singing competition show—because she was too good for that organ and monkey show, he’d said—and set her on the fast-track to stardom, Emma would have cowered at Hoss’s nasty attitude. But now she knew too much. She knew he needed her more than she needed him. She turned to him, using every bit of the poise she’d learned in the acting lessons that went along with creating Fuchsia, and planted a hand on her hip.
“You’re getting your performance, Hoss. Friday.”
“You need to rehearse,” Hoss insisted. “Stage or no stage. You’ve been going downhill lately.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve booked me so many gigs without a break that my voice is getting as tired as the rest of me is with this whole….” She raised her free hand in a gesture that included everything about her.
“There’s nothing in your contract that gives you the right to get tired,” he blustered on. “I made you, and I can break you in thirty seconds or less. There are a hundred other girls with more talent than you have just waiting to be stars.”
Emma opened her mouth, but had to swallow her instinct to tell Hoss to go find them and leave her alone. Like it or not, the contract she’d signed all those years ago had her over a barrel. She needed that money, not for her, but for her family. She didn’t have the five million it would take to get out of the mess she’d gotten into.
“I just want to nap, Hoss,” she said with a weary sigh. It was true, too, even if she had no intention of napping.
“You’ll get your nap when I hear you run through your set.”
“What, here? Now?” Emma blinked. “A cappella?”
“Yes.”
Emma sighed again and shook her head. “All right. Where do you want me.”
She spent the next hour belting out every song in her set from the edge of the stage while Hoss stood on the arena floor, arms crossed, saying nothing. And when she finished the set, he made her sing through them all again. Emma was glad that she was only singing a short set, since so many local acts would be opening for her and the announcement she wasn’t supposed to know about would wrap the whole thing up. Her only consolation for being forced to go through vocal gymnastics was that most of the crew who had returned to work stopped to listen, smiles on their faces. With any luck, reports would get back to Arne that she wasn’t some auto-tuned wannabe.
By the time Hoss let her go, Arne was at the forefront of her mind. Him and the fact that she was left with less than an hour to get ready to meet him. Her only stroke of luck was that one of her bodyguards already had the car ready to whisk her back to the hotel. But when she got to her room, neither Tracy nor Beth were anywhere to be found. She had to peel herself out of her costume on her own, pluck rhinestones from her skin, and scrub as much make-up off in the shower as she could. Beth would kill her for the way she tossed the expensive wig aside, but there was no time to be careful. Arne texted her long before she was finished her transformation, telling her he was there and waiting.
She was lucky that she made it down to the lobby before Arne got it into his head to come up and get her.
“Sorry I’m so late,” she said, breathless, as she skittered across the lobby to greet him. “Things were really crazy this morning, and I—”
Her explanation was cut short as Arne took her hand then leaned in for a soft kiss. Every excuse and thought she’d formed ahead of time evaporated.
“You look great,” he said in a voice far calmer than hers…and far calmer than he’d used at the arena earlier.
Emma laughed. “I highly doubt that. I’ve been working like a nutcase all morning.” At least it wasn’t a lie.
“I can see that.” Arne grinned and reached for her hairline. He rubbed his thumb across the top of her brow.
Emma frowned, until he showed her his hand. His thumb was covered in pink glitter. Her heart dropped to her stomach. There went, well, everything.
“Let me guess,” Arne said. “You were doing something with Fuchsia’s costumes?”
Twin emotions of relief and guilt pulled Emma in opposite directions. She should confess. She should just lay it all on the line and tell Arne the truth. But the image of Hoss glaring at her, arms crossed, as he made her sing her heart out wouldn’t leave her alone. Her parents would be so disappointed if she told them they had to leave their retirement village because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“I get glitter all over me all the time,” she said after far too long a pause.
“I bet,” Arne said, brushing his hand on his jeans. “Come on. We’ll need to burn rubber to get to the marina before the yacht leaves.”
He took her hand and whisked her out of the hotel to his fancy car. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. One that didn’t make her feel better at all. She hated the fact that he didn’t question her, didn’t call her out and force her to confess. Things would be so much easier if he wrung a confession out of her instead of leaving the burden of honesty sitting heavily on her shoulders.
“So it was a hard morning all around,” Arne opened the conversation as they zipped through quaint, tidy, European streets to the marina, near where they’d had dinner the night before.
“Yeah, what happened at the arena?” she asked in a bid to get him to do all the talking.
“I’m still not sure,” he said with a frown. “The workers were striking, but that turned out to be a misunderstanding. Only, no one can trace where the rumors all started. Then Fuchsia’s equipment and some of the stuff
belonging to the arena went missing. But it was all found in a disused food service storeroom.”
“They found the equipment?” Emma’s brow went up. That must have happened after Hoss finally let her go.
“In a place where it had no business being,” Arne confirmed, his frown deepening. “And, of course, no one has a clue how it got there or who moved it.”
“But everything’s okay now?”
He let out a breath and turned onto a waterfront street. “I’d like to think so, but things have been going wrong in weird ways lately.”
“How so?”
“Aside from my brother being kidnapped without any ransom demands being made?” He shrugged. “Little things. Crossed wires and messages that aren’t getting to the right people. It’s almost like someone is targeting my family.”
“Are you in danger?” she asked, suddenly afraid for him.
He winced and made a turn into what looked like an exclusive yachting club. Emma could see several luxurious boats moored past a lavish building that reminded her of the most expensive restaurants she’d been to.
“I don’t think any of us are in bodily danger. Alek has made sure our security detail has been tripled since his incident.”
“But we’re alone now.”
Arne laughed. “Look over your shoulder.”
Emma twisted to do just that. The same three men in black on expensive motorcycles she’d seen at the hotel were pulling into the marina with them. “Ah. I see.”
“I just wish I knew what was going on and what to do about it,” Arne said as he pulled up to the valet desk. “It makes me far more nervous than it should for the concert.”
“The concert?” She wondered if she should be more concerned than she was.
He lowered his voice as the valet approached his car. “I’m concerned about how the announcement will be received by Aegirians. The press has been so bad lately, and this is important to my mother.”
“I see.” Emma hoped for his sake that they figured it out soon. Her thoughts didn’t have much time to dwell on any of it, though. As soon as Arne escorted her from the parking lot to the epic royal yacht, her focus scattered.
“This is incredible,” she breathed as he helped her aboard.
Everything about the yacht screamed luxury and decadence, from the sleek, polished finish to the hot tub on the upper deck. Arne took her inside and showed her not one, but three sitting rooms, complete with soft, plush furnishings and all the latest electronics. Amazing smells wafted up from the galley, which Arne assured her was as well-appointed as any high-end restaurant. There was a dining room with a table set for twelve at the back of the interior space, and beyond that was a deck where the royal family congregated.
Emma held her breath as Arne took her hand and led her out to meet everyone. The entire royal family was already there, from Queen Viktoria to her sister to Arne’s five brothers. Emma couldn't tell if the woman who stood with military stiffness beside Alek was his bodyguard or his girlfriend. Dr. Hayes was there with his daughter as well.
“Sorry we’re late,” Arne began, placing a hand on the small of Emma’s back as they walked forward. “Things were a little crazy at the arena today.”
“It’s quite all right, dear,” the queen said, coming over to kiss Arne’s cheeks. “I’m so happy you brought a friend.”
A jolt of anxiety shot down Emma’s spine, and she felt blood rush to her cheeks as the queen turned to her. The woman blinked, then her smile widened. She knew. Emma could tell in an instant. Only a handful of people had seen the truth that fast, and all of them scared the bejeebers out of her.
“Mom, this is Emma Sands. She works for Fuchsia,” Arne introduced her.
“Do you?” the queen said, understanding in her eyes.
“How do you do, Your Majesty?” Emma greeted her with a curtsy that was far more elegant than the one she’d tried as Fuchsia.
“We don’t stand on formalities here,” the queen laughed, extending a hand for Emma to take. “Anyone on this yacht is considered part of the family.”
Emma’s eyes went wide. “I hardly think I qualify for that.”
“Emma, this is my brother Alek,” Arne continued the introductions as the yacht pulled away from the pier.
Not one of the other members of the royal family or the Hayeses showed any signs of realizing who Emma was. Two of Arne’s brothers asked simple questions about what she did. Lucky for Emma, their questions were easy to deflect. The only person who gave her as much pause as the queen was Princess Marina. The queen’s sister raked her with a critical glance from head to toe as they shook hands, then turned to Arne to say, “She isn’t quite what you usually go for, is she?”
Emma wasn’t sure whether to be offended or to sink through the deck in humiliation at the comment.
“Don’t worry,” Arne whispered to her not long after, as the family sat down to lunch at the picturesque table while the yacht made its way far out into the Baltic. “Aunt Marina might come off as a prickly pear, but she’s got a heart of gold.”
“Really?” Emma asked doubtfully.
Arne answered with a grin. “I’m her favorite, you see,” he whispered as servers in crisp white shirts with blue vests served their meal. “She’s always been overprotective of me.”
“Which means she’ll never like me,” Emma translated.
“Not at all,” Arne laughed. “She’ll warm up to you in no time.”
Emma doubted that. There was something in the way Princess Marina stared at her throughout lunch that was utterly disconcerting. The queen continued to smile at her as though she knew her secret and would take it with her to the grave, but Princess Marina watched her as if waiting to catch her out.
By the time lunch was over and the yacht made anchor out in the crystal blue waters, Aegiria forming a postcard perfect backdrop to their afternoon, everyone went their separate ways. Arne took Emma on a tour of the rest of the boat, which eventually brought them around to the topmost aft deck, the one with the hot tub. The youngest princes, the twins, were already lounging in the hot tub, one of them cracking jokes while the other frowned and shook his head. Emma laughed at them, especially when Arne joined in, but her interest was snagged by Dr. Hayes, who stood at the deck’s railing, glancing out over the sea with a frown.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, approaching him.
He blinked at her, as if surprised anyone was talking, then glanced out over the water again. “See those fishing boats over there?” He pointed far out to the horizon in the opposite direction from land.
Emma raised a hand to her forehead. Sure enough, a series of small boats bobbed on the sparkling water. “Yeah, I see them.”
“There are sixty-two percent fewer fishing vessels on the water now than there were when I first came to Aegiria,” Dr. Hayes said.
Emma leaned against the railing. “Isn’t that good? Haven’t we been overfishing waters all over the Earth?”
“It depends on how you look at it,” Dr. Hayes said. He dragged his eyes from the sea to look at her. “Small fisherman make their living with sustainable fishing and have for hundreds of years. It’s the large commercial outlets who have used non-sustainable methods, like gill-netting, that have decimated fish populations. I’m in favor of supporting individual, sustainable enterprise.”
“Then it’s bad that there are so few boats,” Emma said, feeling shamefully ignorant of the situation. There was so much she didn’t know about in the world she inhabited.
“There’s more going on than that, though,” Dr. Hayes continued, staring out at the water with a frown again. “Pollution has become a major factor in fish populations as well. Deepwater drilling has disturbed fish habitats far beyond what anyone projected. The situation is dire. Native fish populations could be extinct by 2048 if we don’t do something.”
“Arne mentioned something about that,” she said, mirroring Dr. Hayes’s frown. In spite of having a decided air of distraction—and in spite
of the way he dropped his fork at lunch and nearly knocked over the queen’s wineglass—Emma found him personable and fascinating.
“I’m hoping to make the oceans my cause,” he went on. Something across the water caught his eye, though, and he mumbled to himself, eyes narrowed, forgetting Emma was there.
She couldn’t help but smile. No wonder the queen had fallen in love with him, and no wonder Arne was anxious about how Aegirians would react to the engagement announcement.
“Hey, Emma, do you want to go swimming?” Prince Viggo asked as he and Prince Johannes climbed out of the hot tub.”
“Swimming?” Emma glanced to Arne in question.
“In the ocean,” he said. “It’s refreshing.”
“So you’re telling me the water is cold.” Emma left Dr. Hayes to his pondering and walked back to the princes.
“It’s fine now,” Prince Johannes said with a shrug. “But you’ll be happy the hot tub is here once you get out.”
“So it’s cold,” Emma laughed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,” Arne said with a wink.
The flush of desire that look brought left Emma feeling as though a dip in the cold might be a good idea. “I don’t have a swimsuit,” she said. “And don’t tell me I don’t need one.” She arched a brow at Arne.
“I think Cassandra, or maybe Toni, keep spare suits on board,” Prince Viggo said. “You might even fit into one of Aunt Marina’s.”
“If you want to wear a granny suit like that,” Prince Johannes added with a smirk.
“Let’s go investigate,” Arne said, taking Emma’s hand.
They headed back into the yacht’s interior. Once again, Emma marveled at the beauty and comfort of the vessel. When it turned out that Toni did have a spare suit and that it would fit, Emma found herself changing in a cozy bedroom with two berths that looked as comfortable as any high-end hotel Fuchsia had ever stayed in.
“I still can’t believe this yacht,” she told Arne when she rejoined him on deck, near the ladder that led down into the water. She spoke first and noticed how amazing he looked in his swim trunks a split-second later. It was a good thing too. The sight of his broad, muscled chest and strong arms sucked every word and every thought out of her head. She’d thought Arne looked amazing in a tailored suit, but he was next door to a Norse god in nothing but swim trunks. His legs were thick and muscular as well, and Emma was instantly filled with visions of all the things he could do with a body like that.