by Wood, Vivian
For instance, right now I’m thinking about slipping my fingers inside that hole and ripping the thin black fabric. Revealing the rest of her pale, creamy thigh to my view…
“Stel!” Erik barks.
I straighten, my neck heating, and look at him. “What?”
He looks back at her disappearing through the gym doors, waiting until they close. Then he cocks a brow. “Once wasn’t enough for you?”
I shoot him a look. “What do you mean?”
He pushes his cheek out with his tongue. “I mean, does Margot have some kind of spell cast over you? Because you can have anyone in the world… anyone but her.”
I stiffen. “I know that.”
“Do you want me to call some ladies over? Maybe we should have a private party.”
Shaking my head, I start walking over to the wall where a cooler full of water bottles is stashed. “Have I ever in our history wanted your help to get dates? If I wanted, I could have thirty women naked in a pit, fighting over me.”
He shrugs. “It’s just an offer. I just saw the way you looked at her. The same way that you looked at her back in New York.”
Grabbing a bottle of water, I roll my eyes. “What, like a person I find interesting?”
“No.” He folds his arms over his chest. “You look at her like she’s a fucking filet mignon and you’re starving to death.”
“As long as I don’t touch her, I can look at Margot any damn way I please.” I uncap the bottle, taking a long pull of the chilled water.
Erik sighs. “I just don’t want the press to start investigating who you’re sleeping with again. You know that one wrong look at her in front of the wrong person could spark the rumor mill to start again.”
I laugh. “You think I am not aware of that? Besides, of all the women in the world…” Thinking about Margot, I shake my head. “Trust me, she is the last one I would pick to sneak around with. She’s the opposite of what I want.”
That isn’t exactly true. Even as I say it, it sounds flat and wrong leaving my mouth. And not just to me…
Erik gives me a funny look. “You don’t have to lie to me, Stel. The bullshit with the press is one thing. But here, just between us, there do not need to be any secrets.”
I grin at him. “Everything is fine, Erik. You are overreacting.” Taking another swig from the bottle, I set it down on top of the cooler. “Come on. Let’s go for another twenty minutes, then call it a day.”
His eyes narrow, but he just shakes his head and runs to get the basketball. As we dribble and shoot, he stays quiet. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel his eyes on me, wondering just what I’m up to though…
I’d like to know as much myself.
When we’re done, we head outside, Erik regaling me with the story of last Saturday night. I’m only partially paying attention, honestly.
I admit, I am wondering about what Margot said to me earlier.
Does having everything you’ve ever wanted make it worth not getting to make your own choices?
That question echoes in my head for longer than I would care to admit…
Chapter Seventeen
Margot
At eight thirty, I hear loud voices approaching me. Opening my eyes and straightening from where I was slumped over on a couch, I look up. Erik and Stellan are heading down the hallway where I’m at, both dressed in baggy paint-covered khaki shorts and scuzzy t-shirts.
And behind them is a group of maybe ten or twelve people that are all talking excitedly. Standing up, I brush off my old gray yoga pants and hole-filled Black Sabbath t-shirt. I try to school my expression to keep my annoyance off my face, but something tells me that I’m not very successful.
I showed up here before dawn and I’ve been waiting for three hours. A funny little prank for them to pull. It’s a good thing I have slept much worse places than in this hallway on a stiff burgundy couch.
When Stellan sees me, he smirks. He strides up to me and then moves past my couch without stopping. I’m forced to gather up my tote bag and my jacket and run to catch up with him.
“So you are coming, then?” he asks casually.
I shoot him a glare. “Yup.”
“Sorry we’re a few minutes late,” Erik chimes in, grinning like an idiot. I could smack them both in the face right this second, if they would only slow down to allow me to do it. They’re both so tall; everyone in this damned country is tall, pretty much.
“You told me to be here three hours ago,” I mutter. “You’re just lucky that I know how to keep myself occupied.”
Erik just shrugs. I speed walk down the hallway with them, taking a right down a staircase. The entire group takes a right and suddenly we are outside, queuing to load ourselves into a white passenger van.
Stellan and Erik are the first ones in. I hang back, climbing in last next to a willowy blonde young woman. She wrinkles her button nose at me.
“I’m Annika,” she says, offering me her hand.
I shake it, sizing her up. “Margot.”
Her delicate brows rise. My name apparently means something to her. “Haj. Did we already meet?”
“Yes. At the porcelain factory. It’s nice to see you again.” I smile, then I bite my lip, glancing back at the other people sitting in rows between us and Stellan. “How do you know everyone here?”
She laughs. “Well, I’m related to half of them. My last name is Løve.”
“Oh! So you’re Stellan’s younger sister?” I ask. That makes sense; she has the same light-colored eyes as Stellan, and his ungodly cheekbones. I dig through my tote bag for my notepad and pen, making some quick shorthand notes.
“Yes, I’m the youngest of five kids. The only girl, too. Stellan is the oldest… and then there’s Lars…”
She points out Lars, who is a dark-haired clone of Stellan’s, if Stellan had two days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks. I nod.
“I actually know him. He visited New York with Stellan and Erik.”
“Oh, don’t get me started on Erik. He is a pain in my ass… but you probably know that he’s not actually related to the Løves, right?”
“I do.”
She nods. “Over there, Anders is one of ours too…” She points to Anders, who wears his dark hair a bit longer and has a beard. He looks like Stellan, but he’s younger and he looks as though he likes emo. “And then the rest are family friends.”
“Wait, that’s…” I stop, squinting as I count silently. “Yeah, that’s only four Løve children.”
She shrugs. “Finn is the missing link. And he’s… out of town.”
Her eye roll hints that there is more to the story. But before I can ask anything else, the van rolls to a stop. I crawl out, looking around what seems to be an abandoned children’s playground. Jungle bars with half the bars rotted away, see saws that have seen better days, a long abandoned treehouse, and a geo-dome for climbing that appears very rusty and dangerous.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s all definitely overgrown and cool looking. But what exactly are we supposed to do here?
“What in the world?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
Erik and Stellan climb out of the back of the van, sharing a grin between them. “Paintball.”
My eyes widen. The driver starts handing out big airsoft guns with a few racks of various neon colored paintballs. I take one when it’s handed to me, but I have zero idea how to get the paintballs in the gun.
Tilting my head at it doesn’t seem to make the gun make more sense, either.
“I—" I stammer, looking around. Surely no one actually expects me to play, right?
“I’ll team up with Stellan!” Erik says, grinning as he grips his gun.
“Oh, come on,” Anders interjects. “Everyone here gets it, okay? You two are the ideal pairing. Why don’t you make at least a little fun for the rest of us, ja? Spread some of that alpha male top dog bullshit around.”
Stellan sighs, tugging on his t-shirt. “He’s right.”
“I think
Stellan should be with Margot,” Annika chimes in, sliding me a wink. “To help her really get a fuller picture. Erik, you can be with me.”
My eyebrows rise. Erik gives her a stormy look but reluctantly agrees. “Fine.”
Everybody else pairs up, heading into the middle of the playground. I tag along, watching Stellan. I thought maybe I was just drunk when I met him; I had convinced myself that it is just his usual button up and dark slacks that make him attractive.
But now I realize that I was wrong. As we all line up around the dome-shaped climbing structure, I look at Stellan’s handsome features. His dark hair, his ice blue eyes, his cheekbones sent straight from heaven.
Those things are still a part of him when he’s dressed down, apparently even when he wears an outfit that looks like a post-apocalyptic version of what college frat boys don.
He nods to me, leaning close. “When the driver blows the whistle, run for that big old tree right there.” He nods to indicate it. “And whatever you do, do not stop.”
The driver looks odd, following us in his formal black suit. He blows a little whistle. “On my signal! If you get hit, even a little, you must head back here.”
I nod, trying to juggle my tote bag and my gun at the same time. The driver blows the whistle and everyone takes off in pairs; I run after Stellan as fast as I can, wondering how I’m even supposed to get the paintballs into the gun.
Surely it can’t be that hard, right?
Stellan ducks behind the huge oak tree, looking around. I stop and he yanks me out of everyone else’s line of sight just in time; three paintballs whiz by my head, making my heart skid to a halt.
Looking up at Stellan with wide eyes, I start to thank him. He shushes me, then takes my gun and feeds one of my tubes of paintballs into it with a loud click. He does the same for his gun, then holds a finger to his lips.
He leans down close. “Leave your bag here. No one will move it, I promise.”
I bite my lip. The only thing in my tote bag worth stealing is my Nikon, which is worth so much that I will probably never own another like it ever again. I reach in my bag and pull out my camera, hanging it around my neck.
“Ready,” I whisper.
He looks at me, his ice blue gaze seeking the answer to some question. “Why— “
Just then, a paintball whizzes by his head, landing on the tree with a hard splat. “Get down,” he whispers, crouching. I mimic his movement, although I’m so much tinier than him that his version of crouching evens out with my actual height.
“Come on,” he says, running full speed away from the direction that the paintball just came. I hurry after him, looking around with my senses on full alert.
One of the guys that was in the van with us pops out from behind a tree. He aims straight at me, firing but missing. I panic, shooting my gun off a couple of times. The paintballs soar into the air way over his head.
Stellan turns and sees what’s going on. In one swift motion, he fires twice. The paintballs explode as they hit the man in the chest. Two giant blots of bright orange paint blossom over his heart.
“Ah, fuck!” he yells, turning to start walking toward the geo-dome.
Stellan hisses at me and I scurry over to him. He grabs my hand and pulls me behind another tree. For a few seconds, my heart rate picks up. I look up at him, at how fierce and protective he is at this moment.
I know that it’s cheesy to find that appealing, but I do. Despite my resistance, I really, really do.
“You are terrible at this game,” he says, scowling down at me.
Stellan releases my hand and sweeps the scope of his paintball gun in a semi-circle. I shrug a little, trying to keep the fact that I’m obviously turned on by this kind of behavior under wraps. It’s just…
I can imagine that, in a scenario where the end of the world has arrived and everyone is out for their own interests, I would want to have this guy in my corner.
God, I need to say something. Anything to change the topic in my brain.
“I don’t like guns!” I blurt out.
He gives me an odd look. “It’s just a game, Margot.”
My cheeks heat. “I know…”
Stellan’s nose wrinkles. “You know what? I think you are a snob.”
My jaw drops. “Me? How am I a snob? This whole thing is your event, your highness.”
“So what? It’s something new. And I think that something new totally scares you. So you turn your nose up at it without even trying it out. That makes you a snob.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are we still talking about paintball? Or are you just taking what you feel about everything and projecting it onto this topic?”
He rolls his eyes. “Do you have to read into everything, Margot? Can this not just be about shooting people with paint?”
Adjusting my gun, I size him up. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
Stellan sighs, scrubbing his hand through his dark hair. “Why don’t we declare a truce? Just for today. You and I will just be on the same side for long enough to dominate this game. Then we can go back to full out class warfare tomorrow. Okay?”
The corner of my mouth kicks up. I give him a sly glance. “Yeah, okay.”
He looks a tiny bit surprised that I just agreed. “Okay,” he repeats. “Okay, good. There’s a spot that we want to get to over there.” He nods. “A… I don’t know the right word. Where you are protected but you can shoot at targets?”
I scrunch up my face. “Um… I think that’s called a blind, maybe?”
“All right. Let’s run over to it. Ja?”
This time, he looks to me, waiting for my reply. I can’t help but nod. He bolts toward the blind and I run after him. We make it there safely and peer out from behind the trees, sniping anything that moves.
I can admit it; I have kind of a good time, shooting people and yelling when unseen people shoot through the trees. While we have this truce going on it is easy to forget that he’s Prince Stellan Løve, heir to the throne of the kingdom of Denmark. I’m not a commoner that he looks down on, either.
Just now, he grins at me in a way that makes me shiver. I bite my lip and grin back at him. We even high five when I duck and roll to narrowly avoid a paintball to the chest.
His gaze roves the world in front of us again. “Come on. Everybody knows where we are. We should make a run for it. And I think there is a good hiding spot this way.”
He takes off at a crouched run. I’m left trying to follow, beaming at him. We reach a large oak tree and he slows to a stop. He glances at my face, putting a finger to his lips. Then he holds up a hand, gesturing for me to wait.
Just on the other side of the tree, the earth falls away, leaving a good deal of the roots exposed. I lean over and look down as he jumps about five feet to the bottom.
He’s graceful, I’ll give him that.
But I’m not expecting what he does next. He just turns to me, looking up at me expectantly. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
He holds his hands up, waiting. I definitely don’t trust him not to just drop me. Biting my lip, I take his hands. But instead of jumping into his arms, I sort of awkwardly try to hit the ground beside him.
Stellan’s eyes widen as I launch myself down toward the ground. He tries to correct the course of both of our bodies with the weight of his… but he fails.
Instead, he just staggers a little, catching me as I crumple of top of him.
Shit.
My chin hits his collarbone, my knees hit the hard flesh of his thighs. The breath is knocked out of me by running into the density of his chest.
“Oof,” I squeak.
He grunts. Picking my head up, I realize that I’m face to face with him, close enough to kiss. I gaze into his stunning blue eyes, gulping. My eyes drop for just the barest second to his perfect mouth.
Should we… should I…
His mouth twists with a sour expression. When he whispers, his voice is low and intense. “You make things awkward. You kn
ow that?”
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’ve heard that, yes.”
“Let’s just…” He stops, shaking his head. “We just have to get through this month, okay? Then you are free to live your life. You’ll never see me in person again.”
That isn’t what I wanted to hear, honestly. I don’t want to spend time with Stellan, but no one wants to hear that they are bad company. “Just like that, huh? When we spent the night together— “
He shoves me away, taking a full step back. “We don’t have to talk about that, Margot.”
My face darkens. “You know what, Stellan? You— “
I hear the paintballs being fired only a second before my thigh bursts into flame. It hurts to be shot with a paintball! Looking down, I see the spread of neon pink paint on one leg of my yoga pants.
I make a strangled noise. Whatever argument I had planned falls away. I look back up and realize that Stellan and I both got pegged by someone who likely heard our arguing.
He grits his teeth, pinning me with an annoyed glare. “Great. Just great. Come on. We should go back to the center of the game and wait until we’re reset.” His expression is just short of a sneer. “I definitely want a different partner next time.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
And just like that, our truce is ended. He starts trudging around the bottom of the tree, letting me trail in his wake.
Chapter Eighteen
Stellan
I’m sitting at my desk, looking at a stack of financial papers that are awaiting my signature. Cracking each of my knuckles in turn, I look down at the figures presented to me. Each of these documents is important because they are from charities that I patronize; nearly every single one of them is asking for a significant raise in the money that is allocated to them this year.
Money doesn’t grow on trees. I know that as well as anyone. So I’m trying to ascertain what monies go to which charities. The whole thing is enough to make my temple throb.