The Wicked Prince Read online

  She honestly has no idea how many fantasies I have that involve her.

  Erik is approaching, so I just shake my head. “Keep dreaming big, Margot. That’s the only way you’ll ever see me naked again.”

  Margot’s murderous expression is priceless. Turning away, I move toward Erik and raise my hands. “I think I’m ready to go. Can you have the car brought around?”

  “Sure,” Erik responds, his gaze sliding between me and Margot. “Come on.”

  Throwing a smirk over my shoulder at Margot, I stride off of the factory floor.

  Chapter Twelve

  Margot

  The next morning I’m in the newsroom, leafing through the huge pile of documents the royal press secretary sent me. I signed my name to a simple two page nondisclosure agreement already, but I arrived this morning and found a whole stack of other documents and agreements on my desk.

  Pippa peeks her head into my cubicle around lunch, scrunching her face up. “Hey Mags.”

  I shoot her a look. Mags is my nickname that only she is allowed to use; only Pippa is charming enough to outweigh the awfulness of that name. In return, I started calling her Pips, which she doesn’t seem to mind a bit.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Almost done? I’m thinking of grabbing a kebab from the cart down the street.”

  I make a face at the pile of documents. Careful to dog ear at the page that I’m on, I set the papers down on top of my keyboard. “I’m not actually sure where I’m at. I think I should stay here and keep plowing through these documents, just to make sure I’m not signing my name to anything insane. Would you mind bringing me a kebab back?”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, sure. But just so you know, there’s a coffee cart right beside where I plan to go. And I know how you feel about coffee… but I can’t carry coffee and a kebab back.”

  I brighten. “Ooh. You know I’m always in search of a decent cup of coffee.”

  Pippa bobs her head toward the door of the office. “I know. Come on.”

  “Okay, one sec.” I stand up, putting the heavy sheaf of papers in a drawer of my desk and logging out on my staff computer. Then I grab my purse and hurry to catch up with Pippa.

  As I’m about to leave, I hear Anna yell from her office. “Margot! Come in here, please.”

  I freeze in my tracks, then back up and walk to her office. “Did you want something?”

  Her mouth thins. “Only for you to do your job. Will that be okay, Miss Keane?”

  My eyes widen. “Yes. Of course.”

  She picks up a stack of papers from her desk, jogging them as she makes a sour face. “All right then. The palace press office just sent this over.”

  She hands me a piece of expensive card stock that is elegantly engraved with dark blue ink.

  Your presence is requested tonight for a celebration honoring the 68th birthday of Her Royal Highness, The Queen Mother Josefine Ida Løve. The gathering will be held at Marselisborg Palace and require fancy dress.

  No presents shall be accepted.

  Kongevejen 100, 8000 Aarhus, Denmark

  I look up at Anna, my eyes so wide that I’m worried about my future ability to blink. “A party?”

  Anna makes a sound of disgust. “Yes. You have been given a stipend for renting dresses during your work with the palace. I really suggest you use it.” Her eyes trail down my figure, taking in my clothes. “And when you get your first paycheck, I would seriously consider getting a whole new wardrobe.”

  My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I thought I had left the old sense of shame behind when I entered the job market… but here I am, trembling a little, trying to think of what to say.

  Anna narrows her eyes at me. “You know, maybe I should do a piece about you. About how you came to be here, serving a function that no one thinks you can handle.”

  A look at her, puzzled. “Is that… some kind of weird threat?”

  She folds her arms and surveys me. “Maybe I’m just intrigued by the flurry of excitement that followed you here from New York.”

  My eyebrows rise. “I’m sorry?”

  “How you met Prince Stellan. I mean, you shouldn’t be rubbing elbows with people of his class, ja? From my research, it appears that you are the kind of girl who needed several scholarships just to go to college. So how did you two meet?”

  I grit my teeth. My hands ball into fists. “Are we done here? I have a thing to get ready for. You know, a royal gathering at a palace.”

  Her eyes narrow, confirming my suspicions. She’s jealous. I have something that she wants, apparently.

  If she only knew how tenuous my relationship with Stellan actually was…

  Anna sweeps her hand out in a dismissive gesture. “Get out. And try not to horribly embarrass the paper while you’re there, okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be sure to curtsy a ton when I’m off rubbing elbows with the whole royal family.” I leave her office with a snort.

  Bullies come in all shapes and sizes. They hang out on the playground, in cool kid cliques, in court rooms… basically anywhere that anyone can be vulnerable.

  But one thing all bullies have in common? They might be able to dish it out but they can rarely take even the slightest criticism.

  I make a beeline for the front door. Pippa appears at my side, wide eyed and ready for gossip. “What was that?”

  Glancing back at Anna, who is still glaring at me from behind her glass-doored office, I shrug. “Not here, okay? Are you ready to go? I need to go shopping on my lunch hour.”

  “Yeah, sure. Just let me grab my coat.”

  It’s less than a minute before we are bursting out of the front door of the building. I’m still processing everything, and I’m getting more annoyed by the second.

  “Who does Anna think she is?” I say, grimacing.

  “What happened?” Pippa asks, pushing a strand of her wild red hair out of her face. “And where are we going?”

  Screwing my mouth to the side, I pull out my phone. “I need to find a place that rents fancy dresses.”

  “Oh! I know a place. And it’s not far away. Come on. You can tell me what happened while we walk there.”

  I hand her the invitation while we walk and talk, doing a brief round of what happened upstairs. Pippa’s eyes widen.

  “Oh my god,” she says, clutching her stomach. “What a bitch! She’s never acted like that before.”

  I scrunch up my face. “She was jealous.” I look at Pippa. “That’s what it was, isn’t it?”

  She nods slowly. “That’s what it sounds like, yes. I had no idea that Anna felt so strongly about getting close to the royal family.”

  I exhale, sliding her a glance as we rush across a crowded street. “It won’t be like that with us though, will it? I mean, you know the royal family way better than I do. You’ve been hanging out with them for years.”

  She smiles at me. “No, it definitely won’t. Even if you end up marrying Stellan— “

  My jaw drops. “No way! That would never happen in like a million years!”

  She shrugs off my protests. “We will see.”

  “No. No way. There are a million things about myself that I want to keep private… especially about my past run-ins with the law. The last thing that I should do is spend a hot second swooning over Stellan. Besides, he’s an ass.”

  Pippa rolls her eyes and points across the street. “Look, there’s the shop.”

  She points to a little display window with five elaborately dressed mannequins, each garment a totally different color, each one as fancy as the next. Pippa taps the glass over a peach taffeta ballgown with sweetheart neckline. It’s embroidered with what must be a thousand pink and white and peach flowers. “That is gorgeous.”

  “Oh man. I was thinking of something more like… above the knee, black, and slinky.” I make a face. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  Pippa opens the door and ushers me inside. I’m immediately overwhelmed by racks and racks of dresses i
n every color imaginable. Silk and taffeta and crinolines are all stuffed together in the little shop, piled so high that I can’t even see to the back.

  “Oh, I—" I start.

  A short, balding man with the most stylish spectacles and a gray silk suit pokes his head through the stacks. “Kan jeg hjælpe dig?”

  Pippa grabs me by the elbow, bowing her head. “English, if you please? We are here to get her a dress to wear tonight.”

  “Ah!” he says, waving us further in. “Come. We will find good dress.” He looks at me, measuring with his gaze. “Where you go?”

  “A royal function. I assume I need cocktail attire.” I mimic a dress that falls above the knee. “Something black.”

  “Ah yes!” he cries. “Black cocktail. Black cocktail. Good, ja. Come, please.”

  He vanishes back behind a rack of dresses. When I hesitate, Pippa pushes me forward. “I’ve done this like a hundred times. Come on.”

  I shoot her a look and then wedge myself around a rack of dresses. I’m surprised to see a little changing room set up and a wooden counter holds an old fashioned cash register. A collage of brightly colored dresses cut from magazines adorns the wall behind the register.

  “Hold please,” the shopkeeper says, holding up a finger. While we stand there, still taking everything in the shop in, he disappears again. When he comes back, he has an armful of short black dresses.

  “Black cocktail!” he cries, shooing me into the changing room. “Here, you look. You…” He thinks. “You pick.”

  He holds up each dress for my inspection. I wrinkle my nose. “How about… this one… this one…” I let him cycle through a couple more. “Ooh, and that one. That should be good.”

  “Now try.” He points to the dressing room, which constructed of no more than a few pieces of dark velvet draped over a wire frame. “Then you come out, look in mirror.”

  He waves to a full length three way mirror that is stashed in the corner.

  I step inside the little booth and strip down to try on the first dress. It’s loose and unflattering, so I quickly move to the next. This one is a slinky little velvet number in a dark blue that reminds me of the cobalt sea, far from the safety of the shore.

  Pulling back the curtain, I step out. Pippa squeals. “Omigosh! That dress on you is really everything.”

  I walk over to the mirror and my brows rise. The blue of the velvet matches my eyes perfectly. And the way the dress lays on my body is phenomenal. The neckline is a little daring, showing a hint of cleavage. But it doesn’t show too much skin overall.

  I do a twirl, thinking to myself that this dress fits like it was made for my body. Looking at the shopkeeper, I can’t help but grin. “How much?”

  “Three hundred krone.”

  Arching a brow at Pippa, I check with her. “Is that a good deal?”

  She nods. “Indeed it is. It’s about thirty five or forty dollars, I think. And I think I have a pair of heels to match back at the flat.”

  “Ah!” I turn to the shopkeeper. “You have yourself a sale.”

  I turn back to glance at my reflection once more. I imagine Stellan’s smug face turning into wide-eyed disbelief when he sees me in this dress. Yeah, this is definitely a great choice for tonight, especially after yesterday went so poorly. Blushing a little, I retreat to the changing room.

  I’m almost a little loathe to take the dress off, even though obviously I have to. When we are about to leave, the shopkeeper hands me a beautiful hair clip studded with gemstones.

  “For you hair,” he says with a wink. His English is a little broken, but I’m not in any position to criticize. He leans close to whisper to me. “You bring back, ja?”

  I bow my head in gratitude. “Ja, of course. Thank you.”

  As I step outside of the shop, Pippa links arms with me. She looks more excited than I am about tonight. I wrinkle my nose.

  Before I can say anything, she smiles. “We only have a few hours until it’s time for you to leave. Luckily, I keep a full makeup bag at the office. Now your hair is a different matter altogether…”

  She pulls me along, chattering about preparations. And I follow her, trying not to get too anxious about seeing Stellan again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stellan

  I’m lost in a sea of tuxes and ballgowns. If one more old parliamentary representative comes up and orates to me about how I should fund his personal pet project the next time the parliament meets… I swear I will just open my mouth, look up, and scream GET ME OUT OF HERE as loud as I can.

  All right, maybe not. But it’s good to know I have that as a backup plan.

  Erik is by my side, plucking a stray hair from the shoulder of his tux. His gaze roves around the ballroom, always on the lookout. For what exactly, I don’t know.

  “Are you looking for danger, political advantages, or hot girls?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth.

  His eyes find me, crinkling with humor. “Who’s to say I’m not looking for all three?”

  “I hope for your sake that you’re not expecting all three in one package…” I squint off into the corner of the ballroom. “Though I would very much like to meet her if you do manage to find someone that meets all your requirements.”

  He chuckles. “It’s a deal.”

  I turn around slowly, looking for a waiter. What I spot is Prime Minister Finley bearing down on me from some distance away.

  “Let’s move,” I say, whirling in the opposite direction.

  That’s when I almost trample Margot. There she is, with her heart shaped face, her pastel pink hair, and her little dark blue dress. My eyes widen a bit as I take in the flash of cleavage and the unabashed showing of her admittedly amazing legs.

  With her hair pinned up, she looks like she could be a burlesque performer. God, she looks totally unlike anyone else here. And I do mean that in the best way possible.

  “Margot,” I say, trying not to let everyone else realize that I’m drooling over her.

  She just looks at me, her steps faltering. I reach out and stabilize her, realizing that something is out of place. It’s another second before it clicks.

  She’s underdressed for this party. Not just underdressed, but… every other lady here is puffed up in a full ballgown. Margot seems scantily clad by comparison.

  And I am watching her realize it in real time. Her cheeks turn bright pink. She looks around, sucking in a breath.

  “Oh. I think…” She bites her lip, swinging her dark blue gaze over to me. “I think I misjudged the dress code.”

  I snort. “You think?”

  She flushes even further, her mouth screwing up. “How was I supposed to know? It just said fancy dress.” She looks down at what she’s wearing, a little shiver running down her spine. “Maybe I should go.”

  As she turns away, my hand snakes out and grabs her arm. I’m a little surprised at myself; it’s definitely better for me if she fails and recedes into the wings of this little show we’re putting on. But she looks back at me with something like suspicion in her lovely eyes, a frown making her pouty mouth turn down at the corners.

  I refuse to let her just walk away from me. Even if it is cruel, considering the circumstances.

  “Stay,” I order her.

  A mixture of uncertainty and derision is visible in Margot’s eyes. It’s strange; her elfin facial features show no hint of guise. Is she always so easy to read?

  While she’s still making up her mind, Prime Minister Finley appears, looking like a silvering, disgruntled parakeet. He takes one look at the body language between Margot and me… and a smile creeps over his face.

  “Your highness, who is your companion?”

  Margot stills, looking to me to explain her presence.

  I swing my head around in both directions. “You already know Erik, Prime Minister Finley.”

  His eyes tighten on my face, which makes me happier than I can say. “I meant the young lady.”

  I smile indulgent
ly. “This is Margot Keane. Margot, this is Denmark’s prime minister.”

  She looks a bit taken aback. Pulling out of my grip, she offers Finley her hand. “A pleasure.”

  Finley shakes her hand for only a second. “Tell me, Margot. Was it your name that I read in the papers a few weeks ago? Something about being caught running away from Stellan’s hotel, wasn’t it?”

  Erik clears his throat. “Prime minister, I have someone important for you to meet.”

  Finley looks over at him, then back at me. He frowns and smooths the bottom half of his tuxedo jacket. “Yes, all right. I’m looking forward to catching up with you later, Miss Keane.”

  He doesn’t wait for her response. He merely waves at Erik. “Lead the way.”

  Margot releases the breath she’s been holding loudly, looking at me. “That’s the prime minister?”

  “Ja,” I answer with a sigh.

  She screws up her face. “He clearly sucks.”

  One corner of my mouth kicks up. “Ja. He was raised by wolves, maybe.”

  She huffs a laugh. “Don’t blame his lack of manners on bad parenting. I was raised by a mom who was an addict and the American foster care system. If I don’t get an excuse, neither does he.”

  I look at her, a little surprised. “You were?”

  “Yep.” She looks around, as if she’s already decided to leave and just needs to pick a direction. “I believe each of us gets a family of our own choosing. So maybe my mom sucked. But I’ve got Pippa, and she’s definitely more loving and accepting than my mom could ever be.”

  I snag two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray. When I hand one to Margot, she gives me a glare that is instantly suspicious. I chuckle.

  “It’s just wine.” I take a swig, nodding to the exit. “Come on.”

  I head for the big double doors of the ballroom, keeping my gaze slightly downcast. I’ve long since mastered the art of being able to leave a room without talking to anyone. When I get out of the ballroom and into the hallway, I pause for a second to let Margot catch up.