by Karina Halle
“Hey,” Aurora drawls out. “That’s not fair to bring up the past.”
“Well if it makes you feel any better,” I say as I walk over to them. “You can call me The Royal Rogue.”
Aurora scrunches up her nose. “Ugh. No. I’d rather not. Did the tabloids really give you that nickname or did you secretly feed it to them?”
I laugh. I like her. “Believe me, I was trying to get them to call me Le Cheval.”
“Le Cheval?” She thinks it over, translating it in her head. “Why would they call you The Horse?”
“Aurora,” Aksel says sharply. “Don’t walk into that joke.”
“Not a joke, just the facts,” I tell him with a grin but my smile only seems to make him hate me more. “Very large facts.”
“Okay,” Stella says, pressing her hands together in what seems like a plea. “Now that we’re all acquainted, Aksel why don’t you go and find another bottle of priceless scotch and let’s let our hair down a little.”
“Pretty sure that’s frowned upon,” I tell her.
“Not for me,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“I meant letting your hair down.”
The memory of our first night together comes back.
How badly I wanted to let her hair down.
How I wanted her to loosen up.
How I wished I could get under her skin.
And now, now we’re past all that and at the same time, it feels like every time we see each other we’re starting over.
I like the newness of it all, I like the excitement and the nerves that happen every time we meet. But what I want most of all is something stable. Something solid. I want to be able to see her and kiss her and not have it be weird or hesitant. To touch her and hold her and not need an explanation. To know where we stand.
I just want her.
From the way she’s looking at me, I can tell the same memories are going through her brain too.
“You know what?” Aurora says, getting to her feet. “I think you guys have a lot of catching up to do. I should go and check on the twins.” She looks down at Aksel who is still staring at me with contempt. She kicks him on the shin. “Honey. The twins.”
“Right,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. “See you both at dinner,” he says, taking Aurora’s hand and leading her out of the room. “Don’t touch my scotch,” he throws over his shoulder.
“He’s prickly,” I say to Stella once he’s out of earshot.
“He’s a teddy bear underneath,” she says.
“I’ll take your word for it. He doesn’t seem to like me.”
“No, he doesn’t. But I think he got a bad impression of you from the tabloids.”
“Isn’t he friends with Prince Magnus? The king of sex tapes?”
She shrugs. “Scandinavians stick together. And you’re from the Mediterranean. It’s…different.”
“It is different. This weather you have up here is total shit.” I make a face at the grey mist outside the large windows. “You should come visit some time. Get some sun. You know you haven’t yet.”
She pats her stomach. “Yes. Well, I’m pregnant with child and all.”
“You can still fly. Or take a train.”
She laughs. “Take a train.”
“Then take a royal cavalcade.”
“And where would I stay?” she asks pointedly. “In your penthouse with your girlfriend?”
I give her shaky smile. “I’d put you up in the palace. I think you’d like it. It’s very different from here but it has its charm. It used to be a fortress, you know.”
“And what would your parents think?”
She’s got me there. As far as I know, neither my father nor Penelope suspect there is anything between us. And why would they? They’re not as astute as my siblings and only see what they want to see.
“See,” she says after a moment. “But honestly, I’m glad you came.”
“So am I,” I tell her, taking a step toward her and grabbing her hand. It feels good to feel her skin against mine. She doesn’t even flinch, which means she must feel the same. “And I’m sorry it took this long to invite myself over.”
“To be fair, I wasn’t giving you the signals.”
“And I usually invent my own signals and barge through all the red lights.”
“Maybe you were being a gentleman and giving me space and time to figure shit out.”
“Maybe,” I tell her, giving her hand a squeeze. “And I’ll still be that. But…Stella…when I tell you I haven’t stopped thinking about you since Cyprus, you have to believe me. I haven’t. You’re all I think about, all the time, and it’s driving me mad that I’ve been so far away from you.” I pause, gathering up courage. “I have no plans to go back home.”
She was staring at her hand in mine. At my confession she looks up sharply. “What do you mean?” she frowns.
“I mean, I’m here to stay. I realize that I’ve just invited myself to stay in your brother’s palace with you but even so, that’s the truth. I don’t want to do the long distance thing with you. I don’t want updates via text and only get snippets of your life. The last two months have been hell for me, all I can think about is you and the baby. I want you both and I want to be in both your lives. I mean it.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows, licking her lips. “What about Zoya?”
“She’s busy. I think it’s about time that I was the one leaving.”
“Have you told her about us yet?”
I shake my head. “No. No one knows. I don’t know where we stand with each other, so I wanted to figure that out first. I wanted to come here and stay here and be with you and make this work. Stella, my little star,” I say to her, cupping her delicate face in my hands. “I want to make this work.”
She stares up at me, then at my lips. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” I tell her. “Give me a month. I might have to go back on weekends for some events but give me a month, please. I’ll take more if you’re offering but…let me be a part of this. A part of your life.”
Her mouth quirks up in a soft smile, her eyes languid and warm. “Do you mean that?”
“I promise.”
I lean in and kiss her. Sweet. Soft. A kiss made of promises and hope for the future.
I can tell she’s hesitating, though. That’s okay. I can’t blame her. She’s been on her own for the last while and suddenly I’m here, pretty much telling her I’m moving in with her for a month, maybe more. I haven’t even figured out my own shit but I know that’s what I want to do, what I need to do.
She places her hands at my chest. She doesn’t have to tell me that this isn’t Cyprus and that we’re not jumping in where we left off. I get that it’s more complicated than that.
I give her a quick smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, how about you show me to my room then?”
She laughs and it sounds like music, a faint blush coming across her high cheekbones. “You’re staying in my room, you idiot.”
I raise my hands. “Hey, I’m a gentleman. I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”
“Yeah right,” she says. Then she takes my hand. “Come on, let me introduce you to Anya.”
“Is she going to tougher than Aksel?” I ask as she leads me out of the room.
“Maybe,” she says.
She takes me down the hall to the wing near the ballroom and we step into a large room, not too dissimilar from the rest except that it’s quite obvious that a roving pack of young girls have left their mark on every single inch. There are posters of cartoons and there’s glitter and drawings and plush toys and dolls and toy animals everywhere.
And there’s a real pig in the corner, lying down on its side, its big belly rising up and down.
“So we meet again,” I say under my breath as I stare at Snarf Snarf.
Then Snarf Snarf actually makes eye contact with me and I quickly look away. I still have a scar on my arm. I’m not about to tempt fate.
“Girls,” Stella announces. “I have someone very special to introduce to you.”
The girls are gathered in the middle of the room around a giant iPad and taking turns doing something on it. They all look up and stare at me, curious, yet also hostile. I could be imagining that last part, though.
“This is Prince Orlando of Monaco,” Stella goes on and I do a silly bow which emits a giggle out of them.
Except for the girl with the pink glasses. Naturally I assume that’s Anya. Like mother, like daughter, I don’t do well on first impressions.
“Hello,” one of the girls says, coming forward. “I am Princess Clara of Denmark and this is my sister, Princess Freja. Oh, and that’s Anya.”
“Princess Anya,” Anya says, annoyed. She tosses the iPad aside and comes right up to me. “Are you my mother’s boyfriend?”
“Uh,” I say, glancing at Stella. She shakes her head oh-so-subtly. “No?”
“Oh,” she says. “That’s good. She doesn’t need a man.”
What the hell is with the sass on this girl?
I lean into Stella and whisper, “She takes after you. I like her.”
“Anya,” Stella warns. “Show Orlando here some respect. One day he will rule the entire country of Monaco.”
“Monaco is built on gambling and cars,” Clara says, speaking up. “I learned that in school.”
“Well, it’s also one of best countries for investment into clean energy,” I tell her.
Stella nudges me with her elbow, her way of telling me not to get into a pissing match with her eight-year old niece.
“Do you like cats?” Anya asks.
“Do I like cats?” I repeat. “What kind of a question is that? I love cats. In fact, I have a cat. His name is Sir Mokey of Monaco.”
Anya purses her lips and then looks at her mom. “Is that true?”
Stella laughs. “Yes, it’s true. I’ve met the cat.”
Anya gasps as if horrified. “You met a cat and you didn’t tell me!?”
“We have a pig!” Clara says loudly, gesturing to Snarf Snarf in the corner. “He used to be really small but now he’s big and fat.”
“Yes, Snarf Snarf and I have been acquainted,” I tell her and my arm starts to throb with the memory of pain.
“I want to know more about your cat,” Anya says, putting her hands on her hips. “Can I see him?”
“Sweetie, he’s in Monaco,” Stella interjects.
“With the cars and gambling and clean energy investments,” I point out.
Anya still doesn’t seem to believe me. “I wish I had a cat,” she grumbles and then she goes back over to the iPad and sits down on the floor.
I glance at Stella, brows raised. I don’t have a lot of experience with kids and I’m not sure how that went but she just pats my arm reassuringly.
“She likes you,” Stella says to me after we leave the room.
“She likes the idea of my cat,” I point out.
“Just take what you can get, trust me.”
Speaking of taking what I can get, what I really want now is to go upstairs and explore my new room—specifically the bed—but before I get a chance to try and seduce Stella, Maja comes interrupts us and tells us that lunch is served.
I sit down across from Stella and then the children come in, gathering around one end of the table and staring at me suspiciously, while Aurora and Aksel are at the other side. An older woman I don't recognize pushes in a crib playpen type thing on wheels, where the twins are standing. They're boys about a year old, looking around the room with goofy smiles on their faces, their eyes the same blue as Stella and Aksel.
"Twins, huh," I comment. "My siblings are twins." I look down the table at the girls. "You're all going to be in for some weird times. Twins have mutant super powers."
"Orlando," Stella admonishes me with a dirty look.
I shrug. "It's true."
"Are your twins your real full siblings, because Emil and Lars are our half-brothers," Clara says.
"They're my half-siblings too," I tell them. "Matilde and Francis."
"Did your father remarry? Ours did after our mother died," Clara says, then flashes Aurora a sweet smile.
"He did. My mother died too," I tell them and from the look Stella is giving me, I think she might be realizing for the first time how similar all our stories are. "But my stepmother is a lovely person, just as Aurora is."
Aurora gives me a grateful smile though Aksel doesn't seem all that impressed.
"But yeah," I add, because I don't know when to quit, "there's always a good twin and an evil twin, so be sure to figure which one is which when they’re young.”
Everyone turns to look at the twins.
After lunch, when I'm attempting to steal Stella away, we're accosted by Anya. She takes my hand and leads me to the library room, the very room I did some pretty naughty stuff to her mother, and sits me down on the couch. She insisted that Stella let us have a moment alone, which makes me think she's going to give me the third-degree about being her mother's boyfriend or something, something I'll have to continuously deny. Unless she breaks me. She seems like the type of kid that could break you.
"I want to have a talk with you," Anya says, pacing in front of me.
"Okay," I give her a big smile and over her shoulder I can see Stella's shadow just lurking out of sight. I'm not sure if she can hear us or not. "Let's talk. I'm happy to talk to you, I've heard so much about you from—"
"I want to know about your cat. Sir Mokey."
I can't help but laugh. "My cat?"
"Yes. What color is he?"
"He's orange."
"Just orange or are there some kind of stripes on him?"
"Uh, well, he's got stripes. For sure. Orange with orange-ish stripes."
"I would have called him Michael Stripes."
"Like the singer from REM?"
"Who is that?"
"Nevermind."
"Why did you call him Mokey?"
"I used to watch a TV show when I was young. I went to America for a few summers, there was a show with puppets called Fraggle Rock."
"Puppets or muppets?"
"You know who the muppets are?"
"Who doesn't?" she says with a roll of her eyes. "So Mokey was on this show and looks like a cat."
"Actually, Mokey on the show was grey and was a she. I just liked the name."
"You're terrible at naming animals."
I give her a defensive look. "I am not."
"Orlando, I need you to talk to my mother and get me a cat."
I knew this is where this was going.
"I can try but she's been very adamant against them."
"She says she's allergic. Is that true?"
"I did hear her sneeze a few times in Cyprus. But anyway, you know cat litter is bad for pregnant women."
"Why? Because it stinks?"
"There's a parasite in it and anyway, I shouldn't be having this discussion with you, though I am flattered that you think I have sway over your mother."
"We could keep the cat litter far away and I could clean it."
"Again, I think that's up to your mother to decide."
She stops pacing and peers at me. I mean, she like really studies me, her eyes working hard under those glasses, trying to figure something out. Finally she says, "I have faith in you, Prince Orlando. You'll do the right thing." She waves her hand at me. "You are dismissed."
I watch as she leaves the room, going past her mother with her head held high.
Stella comes back inside, looking awestruck.
"Wow," she says, flopping down on the couch beside to me. "I am sorry you had to go through that but it was far too entertaining to stop."
"She's quite single-minded," I tell her.
"Believe me I know. At least this time it's just a cat."
"It's been worse?" I ask her. I put my arm around her, testing the waters. When I feel like I get the go-ahead, I pull her close to me and she rests her h
ead against my chest.
This feels nice.
"Oh yes," she says. "After her father and I divorced, she was so set on getting me remarried. All she wanted was for me to have another boyfriend or husband. She was obsessed."
"Really? Was she being a little matchmaker?"
"The best she could. She was a lot younger, of course, but she would ask me every single day when she was getting a new father. Or when I was getting a new husband."
"Sheesh. That's got to hit deep."
"It did. And it was embarrassing since she would actually stop men on the street and ask them to date me."
I laugh. "That I would have loved to see. I'm sure someone took her up on the offer." I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent. "I can't imagine dating being difficult for you."
She snorts. "Give me a break."
"I mean it. You're gorgeous, Stella. And smart. And funny."
"I'm a single mom."
"So? Why let that define you? It's just a part of you, not who you are as a whole."
"Well, maybe you're strange because you aren't bothered by it or maybe it's because I'm carrying your child, but most men do care." She glances up at me. "Dating sucked, it just did. It was hard for me to open up because my husband screwed me over so much. I became closed-off to the idea of loving anyone ever again. And men were running the other way, anyway. It's not like I could woo them and win them over before they found out about Anya. My status as a divorcee and single mom were splashed all over the damn world."
"I know a lot about that."
"But you were called The Royal Rogue. That's almost complimentary."
"It was until it wasn't."
"Well you're treated better than I am. Probably has a lot to do with being a male. It's easier to take cheap shots at women, especially mothers."
"If anyone else takes a cheap shot at you, I'll ruin them. I promise you that. And whatever men turned you down in the past because of your status, they're the world's biggest idiots and I owe them a lot."
"You owe them?"
"You wouldn't be with me otherwise. We found each other at the right time."
She seems to mull that over, thinking. "I know I said this earlier, but I'm really glad you came back."
"So am I," I tell her, pulling her in for a deep kiss. "So am I."
She kisses me back and our lips and mouths begin to move with hunger and urgency, a sharp current of need running through my body.