The Wicked Prince Read online

  She sleeps on her side, her face drawn into her chest. It almost looks like she’s trying to protect herself, even in her sleep. But from what?

  I repress a sigh and look at her lovely face. Her skin is radiant, her cheekbones high, her eyes large and expressive. For Satan, but she is pretty.

  There are faint circles under her eyes.

  I am actually partially to blame for that. We stayed up most of the night fucking. Well, doing everything but fucking actually… she sucked my cock until my eyes rolled up in my head over and over. I fingered her and licked her until she came screaming. Her taste still lingers faintly on my lips and tongue.

  I don’t actually mind that. She tasted sweet and musky; there are far worse things to wake up smelling like.

  The point is, I was exceedingly careful where my sperm went.

  Even drunk, I know better than to actually spend my seed inside of random girls. If I accidentally got a girl pregnant and the press found out about it…

  Ah, there it is. The faint pounding of my head, between my eyes. It’s funny… for a minute, just brief window of time, I almost forgot that I was a royal.

  Almost.

  I hear a noise outside of the bedroom door. Cocking my head, I frown. Is that Erik, then? Where did he end up last night?

  Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I sigh. I really need a glass of water and a headache powder to even begin dealing with today.

  Erik slams the door open, holding up a phone. Margot stirs and panics a little, sitting up too.

  “Erik—” I start.

  He has eyes only for Margot, though. “You fucking bitch!”

  My eyes narrow. Margot looks alarmed. “What? Don’t call me a bitch…”

  “Erik, don’t call her that. What do you want?” My head pounds, less faintly this time and more like a jackhammer.

  Erik looks at me, beyond aggravated. “She posted pictures of you two together to fucking Instagram, Stel. Intimate photos.”

  That gets my attention. “What?”

  I have a vague memory of Margot snapping a couple of pictures with her phone last night. A cold fist of worry forms in my stomach.

  I look at her, clutching the comforter to her chest. Always protecting herself. My eyes narrow.

  “Is it true?” I ask.

  Her delicate brows descend, making her eyes darker. “Well… yeah… I didn’t realize that you guys had a weird hang up about Instagram or whatever…”

  I flinch, then look at the ceiling. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I try to think. I want to scream at her. But that won’t help anybody.

  When I speak, my voice shakes with barely contained fury. “You have to take them down.”

  Erik hisses. “It’s too late for that. Her post went viral.”

  “What?” Margot says, confused. “Why?” Her gaze darts to me, accusing. “What don’t I know?”

  I avoid her gaze, looking at Erik instead. “Can we shut it down? Have you already talked to the royal press office?”

  “I called them first. They are working on it, but they don’t know if they can squelch the info. Once it’s out— “

  “It’s out.” I bury my head in my hands. “Fuck.”

  “I’m sorry. What the fuck are you two talking about?” Margot clutches the comforter to her chest as she rises to stand beside the bed.

  I don’t fight her for it; I have plenty of things to be embarrassed about, but my body isn’t one of them.

  Instead I grab my boxer briefs from where they lay on the floor in a discarded heap. Stepping into them with a curse, I turn to Erik. “Grandmother is likely going to have two heart attacks at once when she hears about this. Give me five minutes… I will meet you out in the living room.”

  Erik gives a curt nod, shooting Margot one last glare before he stalks out of the room. I find a shirt and pull it on. I can’t help but feel the dread growing in my belly, threatening to take over everything.

  Margot starts putting on her clothes. Her face is drawn and she’s muttering a little. “I don’t have to stick around for this. You act like I’m not even here!”

  I pull on a pair of pants, casting a dark look her way. “You don’t even realize the shit storm you have managed to stir up, Margot.”

  She shoves her hair back out of her face, looking outraged. “Do you want to explain why? Or do you just want to go vent about it to Erik some more?”

  I cross my arms. “I’m the crown prince of Denmark, Margot. The heir to the throne. And the last thing I needed was for you to run around telling people on the internet who I hook up with.”

  Her eyes go wide with shock. “What?”

  “Didn’t you notice Erik’s reaction to having his photo taken? He knows the drill. Nothing on camera, ever. Because if it’s on film somewhere, someone is going to find it.” I spread my hands wide. “And once the press has it, they will run with it. Make up all kinds of things. You should know… aren’t you friends with Pippa?”

  Her expression is sheepish, but the second I turn it around on her, she glares at me. Going over to her purse, she grabs a laminated badge and waves it in my face.

  “I’m member of the press,” she says, her voice rising in pitch. “So maybe stop for a hot second before you malign my own organization to me, okay?”

  Now it’s my turn to be shocked. “What?”

  I’m vaguely aware of my heart pounding loudly. Oh god.

  She’s one of them?

  I really, really fucked up this time.

  She stuffs her feet into her heels, glaring at me. Then Margot grabs her purse and tosses her hair. “I’m a photographer. And I think you are overreacting. Just because a couple of people reblogged my Instagram posts…”

  I cross the bedroom, grabbing her by the elbow. “You don’t understand. I’m a member of the royal family. These jackals have hunted my family down for centuries. And once they scent blood…”

  I shudder. But I’m not prepared for the way she looks at me, like I just kicked her puppy or something. She jerks out of my hold.

  “We are human beings,” she grits out. “The only things separating you and your family from the rest of us are a few tiaras and a lot of fucking money. Money you didn’t even earn!”

  I glare at her. “I knew that you were bad news the second I laid eyes on you.”

  Margot tosses her hair and heads for the door. “I can’t believe I spent the night with you.”

  “Wait!” I call.

  She looks back at me. “I don’t have the time or the emotional space for this.”

  I growl. “You don’t want to leave now. Let Erik find a way to smuggle you out of the building. Maybe if we do that and you take your Instagram posts down—”

  “You are unbelievable. You know that?”

  Erik comes back in, standing in the doorway. He stares Margot. “This is all your fault.”

  Looking between us, she cocks her hip. “What, are you going to physically keep me here? I’m a hundred percent certain that there isn’t any amount of money in the world that will keep me quiet if you resort to false imprisonment.”

  Erik and I make eye contact. I fidget. He starts toward her, a giant grizzly bear stalking his weak prey.

  “Stop!” I call out. They both look at me. I square my jaw. “Let her go, Erik. If the story is out, it’s out.”

  Erik pauses, but doesn’t move. “It was only two weeks ago that the royal family was in the news, apologizing about your uncle Heinlein and those call girls of his.” He looks back and forth between Margot and me. “The press will rip you both to shreds.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she sasses.

  He rolls his eyes and moves clear of the doorway. Margot is out like a shot, not another word to either of us. In a few seconds I hear the elevator chime.

  Flinging myself across the bed, I bury my face in the pillows. My whole bed still smells like sex and flowers, a remnant of her perfume maybe.

  “Your grandmother is going to have you
r head on a spike,” Erik says, sitting on the end of the bed.

  I close my eyes. “I know.”

  “I told you to be careful with a commoner.”

  I grit my teeth. “I know.”

  He sits there for a moment longer, then hoists himself to his feet. “I’m going to start arranging our trip home. I have to figure out where the fuck Lars is at the moment.”

  I open my eyes and glance at him. “If you can’t find him, my brother can figure out how to get home on his own.” I repress a sigh. “I think we should leave as soon as possible. Grandmother will want to see me soon, I expect.”

  He’s quiet for a beat. “Maybe it won’t be that bad.”

  Groaning, I roll over. “Have you checked downstairs, then? Are the press not swarming all over every entrance to the hotel?”

  He looks away. “They are. I really wish your girl would’ve let me get her out without a fuss… because they are going to go nuts when they see her.”

  Shrugging, I think about Margot’s soft curves. I think about how she jammed that press pass under my nose, sending me into shock.

  God, how stupid could I be? “I have other things to worry about now.”

  “All right. Get your stuff together. I want to leave in thirty minutes.” He heads out of the door, leaving it wide open.

  I wallow in bed for another minute, inhaling the smell of our scents mixed together. It’s funny; if none of this had happened, I could’ve really liked Margot.

  Not that it would have done either of us much good… I’m still going to be saddled with some long-faced dullard from my grandmother’s list. This little event will actually only speed up the process, I fear.

  Going to the closet, I start pulling down the suits and jeans hanging inside, my core filling with dread.

  Chapter Six

  Margot

  I unbolt the door of my tiny Bushwick apartment, opening the door. Instantly there are camera flashes and reporters shouting my name.

  “Margot! Margot! Are you and Prince Stellan an item?”

  “Do you plan to move into one of his castles?”

  “Margot!”

  I see a flash of red hair. Pippa edges through the crowd, throwing a few elbows. “Move, please! Move!” Her British accent makes her sound more polite, but I can tell from her expression that she’s actually pretty fucking annoyed.

  Welcome to my new life, Pippa. It’s hell on earth.

  She eventually makes it to the door and squeezes herself in. Then she shuts the door behind herself, giving her long mane of red hair a little shake. She smoothes her hands down her pristine pink floral dress and pulls her oversized white leather handbag onto her shoulder.

  “That was insane!” she says, looking at me with wide eyes. She jogs a brown paper bag full of groceries on her hip. “I brought you bagels.”

  My eyes well up. I rush over and give her a tight squeeze, surprising her a little. “I’m so glad you are here.”

  Pippa hugs me back with her free arm. “I’m just glad I’m in town.” She bites her lip, pulling back and looking at me. “Although I have to admit, if I wasn’t visiting, you never would have met Stellan.”

  “None of this is your doing.” I tug the paper bag out of her arms, heading over to the kitchen and setting it down on the counter. “It’s one part my fault, one part Stellan’s. He could’ve just told me who he was. Or maybe handled the aftermath a little better.”

  Pippa sighs, brushing a strand of her hair back. “Yeah. But really, it’s the American press that’s the problem. They’re having a field day with the whole situation.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I know. The tabloids are running all kinds of headlines about me. Mostly focusing on the idea of a rags to riches story, which is almost completely made up.” I wince. “Well, they aren’t wrong about where I came from. They’re just making up lies about where I’m going.”

  She looks around my tiny apartment, screwing up her face. Walking over to my sofa, she sits down. “I’m guessing you haven’t heard anything from Stellan, then?”

  I snort. “No.”

  Pippa tosses her handbag down. “I think the whole royal family is on lockdown. It’s been one scandal after another for them this year.”

  Sitting beside her on the couch, I look wistfully out my small living room window. “I don’t particularly care. I just want the tabloids and the paparazzi to leave me alone.” I glance at Pippa. “Did I tell you that I lost my job over this whole thing?”

  Her jaw drops. “What?”

  “Yep.” I make a disgusted sound. “Jeff said that if I didn’t come in yesterday, I could consider myself no longer employed. I can’t even get out the front door without enacting a mob scene!”

  She reaches over, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry. I wish none of this had happened to you. Really I do.”

  I sort of shrug off her concern. We have been friends for a long time, but it’s just hard for me to let people show concern for me like that. “I’m fine. Or I would be, if some scummy tabloid hadn’t dug up a couple of people who knew me in high school. They’ve been running these clips of different people that say they spend time with me, when in fact I didn’t even recognize their names until I looked them up in my yearbook.”

  Pippa bites her lip. “That sounds like bullshit.”

  “It is!” I growl.

  “Well…” She flashes me a nervous smile. “I actually come bearing news on that front. Politiken is still very interested in you, perhaps even more so now that this little fiasco happened.”

  My eyebrows fly up. “Really?” Then I scowl. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be headhunted just because I posted some pictures online of myself with Stellan.”

  She scrunches her face up. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but… tough shit.”

  Her pronouncement actually makes me smile. It feels good to express something other than the anger and disappointment that’s been consuming me for days. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah!” she says. “Stuff happens. This happened already. It’s sort of shattered your existence. All you can do now is figure out the best way out of this mess.” She raises her eyebrows, with a hopeful smile on her face. “Plus, Politiken is offering to pay for your flight and basic moving expenses. You are getting an offer to move to Copenhagen, all expenses paid. What could be better than that?”

  I bite my lip. “I... I’m not even sure what to say.”

  Pippa squints, then looks around. “You live in a space where you can almost fry an egg from your bed. Your bathroom is just a shower and a toilet, packed into a few square feet. You don’t even own a mirror that I can see…” She makes a face. “So… what? You are afraid to give up all this opulence for a chance at adventure?” she teases me.

  I can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes my lips. “Hey, at least the heater works.” Then I stop, admitting the truth. “Well, it works sometimes.”

  “So come work at Politiken. Stay with me. My roommate moved out last month so it’s basically perfect.” She gives me a cheesy grin. “It’ll be like the NYU dorms all over again. But like, less marijuana smoke drifting through the halls.”

  I glance outside again. “I don’t know. I’ve never lived anywhere that wasn’t New York City.”

  Pippa rolls her eyes. “New York isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It’ll still be here when you decide you’re tired of Copenhagen. Besides, what will you miss?” She wiggles her brows. “Come on! Say yes!”

  Outside, I can hear raised voices. Likely two of the paparazzi are bickering with each other. I release a long-suffering sigh. “You’re right. I think I should go. At least for a few months until this whole thing blows over.”

  Her entire face brightens. “Really? I didn’t actually expect you to accept…”

  My heart seizes up. “The offer isn’t real?”

  “It is,” she assures me. “Politiken definitely asked me to beg you to come. They’ll be over the moon that you said yes. I
just didn’t foresee your answer, that’s all.”

  I bite my lip. “Do you think it’s the right choice?”

  A loud thump comes from my front door, making us both jump. Pippa’s eyes widen.

  “Definitely.”

  I screw up my face. “In for a penny, in for a pound… How soon do you think I can leave?”

  She stands up, pulling out her phone. “I can find out with one phone call… just give me a minute…”

  She presses the phone to her ear and walks to the other side of my studio apartment, setting the wheels in motion. I start to pull out my two duffel bags, filling them with my clothes.

  It doesn’t feel real. Then again, nothing really does.

  Nothing except for the fact that I’m still angry at Stellan.

  It’s only the work of an hour for Pippa to get us booked on a flight to Copenhagen. She keeps giving me the same comforting smile while she works on it, checking on me every so often.

  But Pippa was right… there isn’t anything holding me back. Nothing tying me to New York except that I was born here.

  And that just isn’t enough.

  We pack up everything I could need to take in twenty minutes. Then I open the front door, looking out into the crowd of reporters. There are a million camera flashes and people jockeying to be close enough to me to ask me a question.

  “Margot! Margot!”

  “Are you joining the prince?”

  “Will you become queen, Margot? Is that what this is about?”

  I roll my eyes harder than they’ve ever been rolled in my life. There is a somewhat violent struggle between the paparazzi to get my attention. I stop, giving them the only sound bite that I will ever utter.

  “It must be terrible for you to be so bound by the rules of the patriarchy,” I tell one woman who keeps shoving her microphone in my face. “You should really work on that.”

  Pippa locks the door behind us and then steers me through the jostling crowd. We get into the waiting Lyft, jetting off toward Pippa’s hotel, our only stop on the way to the airport.