The Wild Heir

  “Magnus,” his father calls after him as Magnus yanks open what looks to be a liquor cabinet and starts rifling through it. “You know not using a coaster amounts to treason in this family.”

  “I’m sure the schools in Norway are very good,” Jane says eagerly, trying to save face, even though the moment has passed.

  “Indeed, they are,” the Queen says with an appreciative nod. “Two of our girls opted to study here instead of going abroad.”

  I look at Mari. “And where do you plan to study when you’re done with your schooling?” I pause. “That is if you’re planning on going to school.”

  “Of course, she is,” the Queen answers for her, giving Mari a proud yet tight-lipped smile. “She’s exceptionally bright.”

  Mari just nods though I can tell there’s something holding her back. She might just need time to figure out what she wants to be.

  “And after you get your degree,” the King says to me, “where do you plan on living?”

  Again I want to shrug. I straighten my shoulders instead. “I’m not quite sure yet. Edinburgh is lovely. London seems the right choice, but I think it’s just a bit too big for me. Anywhere that I feel I can use my voice best.”

  “Then wouldn’t you head back to Liechtenstein?”

  Is this a trap? Is he trying to trick me into saying something bad about my country?

  I shake my head. “While Liechtenstein will always be my home and I think it has a lot to offer, there aren’t many opportunities there for what I’m interested in.”

  “And what is that?” the Queen asks.

  I look at her in surprise. I thought that was pretty apparent. “Getting together a non-profit organization to help the environment. To do something that invokes change. That’s my end goal, anyway. It’s a lot harder to do than it seems.”

  “Your father has no interest in helping you?”

  I hold back a bitter laugh. “My father has no interest in helping me at all. In fact, telling me about this dinner was the first time he acknowledged I existed since he gave me a present at Christmas.”

  The King raises his gray brows and exchanges a perplexed glance with his wife.

  Oh shit. If this was a trap, I didn’t sell my father very well.

  “You see, he’s a very busy man,” I add quickly. “And I’m terrible at keeping in touch.”

  “It’s true,” Jane says, nodding adamantly.

  “I completely understand,” the King says, his voice warm and reassuring. He clears his throat. “May I ask, what exactly did your father tell you about tonight’s dinner?”

  At that question I notice Magnus slowly sauntering back over to us with a highball of what looks like scotch and eyeing me curiously. Actually, everyone is looking at me the same way.

  “I, uh, well he didn’t exactly say,” I admit stupidly, feeling my cheeks grow hot. “He just said that Jane and I were invited for dinner and that was it.”

  “You didn’t ask what it was for?” the Queen asks, frowning.

  I feel even stupider. “Well, no. My father didn’t tell me himself, his butler did. And he wasn’t sure. I just know to take my father’s word that if he tells me to go somewhere and do something, I do it.”

  “So obedient,” the King says under his breath, almost wistfully, before he looks over at Magnus.

  Magnus nods at him and then says to me, “Listen. Ella, right? I need to speak to you in private for a moment.”

  I blink at him, totally confused as to what’s going on and then give Jane a helpless look. She only gives a slight shrug, her eyes getting that devious glint in them, the one that means she’s getting inappropriate thoughts that I pray she keeps to herself.

  “Sure,” I tell him, and I step back away from the group as he lightly places his fingers at my elbow, guiding me toward a set of French doors. From the moment his skin makes contact with mine, I feel a subtle jolt of electricity travel through my veins, like I’m some kind of conductor, and I nearly jump back from it. I don’t know if it’s his smell, like a pine forest with a hint of booze, his proximity to me, or what, but it’s never been more obvious that I’m sorely out of practice even just socializing with the opposite sex.

  I glance over my shoulder at the others and they all seem to be holding their breath, except Jane, who is downing her glass of champagne.

  Magnus opens the doors with ease and we step out onto a stone path that winds its way through a few bushes filled with night-blooming flowers and a bench, before it turns into the back courtyard and parking area we first arrived in.

  “It’s lovely out here,” I tell him, my voice shaking a little, from both nerves and the bracing air.

  “It’s ridiculous is what it is,” Magnus says, leading me over to the stone bench and then running his hands over it, brushing off any dirt. “Here, sit.”

  I hesitate a moment before I do, still so unsure of what’s going on. “What’s ridiculous?”

  “What isn’t?” he asks, and I notice he’s not sitting. He stands in front of me, and from here he looks even more massive and powerful than before. He’s intimidating, that’s for sure. “This is what constitutes my mother’s garden. It’s the only place she has in private to enjoy her flowers.” He gestures to the park behind the palace. “In the summer, the park and main gardens are open to the public. Hell, a lot of the palace inside is too. I don’t know why they choose to live like they’re fish in a bowl.”

  “Our palace back home is completely blocked off,” I tell him. “No one can even get near, though of course it’s pretty useless since no one really cares about us. No one even knows where Liechtenstein is.”

  “They have some great places to go abseiling,” he says. “Some great women too.”

  I shouldn’t roll my eyes at the Crown Prince of Norway, but I do.

  “Hey, you could be one of them,” he says.

  “I’ll pass,” I tell him with a scoff, folding my hands in my lap. “So, may I ask what we’re doing out here? What was all of that inside?”

  He gnaws on his lip for a moment, that damn full bottom lip. He’s almost wincing.

  This isn’t going to be good, is it?

  Six

  Ella

  “You honestly don’t know why you’re here?” he asks as he stares down at me.

  My heart starts to thump harder in my chest and I shift uncomfortably on the bench. “No,” I say quietly, wishing now I had the courage to not agree to any of this until I had talked to my father. I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into by coming here, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out.

  He presses his lips together, raising his brows as if to say, oh boy, here we go.

  “Right, well. I’m going to be straight with you. More so than I think my family would like, but since we’re both involved in this, I think honesty is the only thing we’ve got right now.”

  “Okay…” Jesus, what is it?

  “I’ll start by telling you what my father told your father.” He runs his hand through his hair and starts to shift his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” I tell him.

  He shakes his head and I know I shouldn’t take any offense to the fact that he won’t sit next to me, but I kind of do. Do I smell? I fight the urge to take a whiff.

  “The reason you are here, Princess Isabella of Liechtenstein,” he goes on, “is that my father told your father that I was very interested in meeting you.”

  Huh? Come again?

  “You were interested in meeting me?”

  He shrugs with one shoulder.

  “But that’s not true, is it?” I continue, still confused.

  His jaw tenses as he thinks that over and for once he looks away. “It’s not about…it doesn’t matter. That’s what he told him. And so, you were invited here for dinner like this was a set-up, a blind date of sorts.”

  I can only stare at him. The Prince of Norway is telling me that the reason I’m here is because of him, that he wanted t
o take me on a date?

  “My father’s butler never mentioned that,” I manage to say after a beat.

  “Which surprises me,” he says, “or maybe it’s that he wanted you to come, and if you’d known the truth, you would have said no.” He pauses, giving me a furtive glance. “Would you have?”

  Hell. I don’t have an answer to that. I suppose if my father had told me the truth and expressed any importance to it, I still would have come here, to please him and make him happy.

  I shrug. “Sure. I mean, this is just a dinner, that’s all. It would have been a…new experience.”

  “You don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings,” he tells me. “I don’t have that many to begin with.”

  “I wouldn’t be proud of that.”

  “I’m not proud. Just honest.”

  “Okay, fine. Are you asking if I would have wanted to go on a dinner date with you? Well, no. You’re not really my type.”

  “And you’re not my type either,” he says quickly, like he’s throwing what I said back in my face.

  I frown, not understanding. “If I’m not your type, then why did you invite me here for dinner?”

  “Because I had to. I picked you.”

  I blink slowly. “Picked me for what?”

  “Marriage.”

  Am I hearing this right?

  My lips move to make words but no sounds come out. Finally, I manage a breathless, “What?”

  “I know,” he says with a deep sigh, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his feet. “It’s going to take you a lot of time to come to grips with it. Fuck knows I still am. I mean, this is absolutely surreal to say the least, not to mention ridiculous, unfair and, well, cruel, but it is what it is.”

  None of what he’s saying is making any sense at all. Am I being filmed? Is this a joke? I start looking around for cameras and of course there are a million of them on the palace walls and lampposts for security reasons.

  “So your father doesn’t know the whole truth,” he goes on. “My father left that part out. But the fact is that I need to get married and I’m trying to figure out if it should be you. You were my first pick of the lot.”

  “First pick of the lot?” I repeat. “Magnus, Your Highness, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And to be honest, it’s starting to scare me a little.”

  He exhales loudly and runs his hands down his face. “I can’t believe these are the words that are coming out of my mouth,” he mumbles. He then looks up at me, hair wild, eyes brimming with intensity. “In order for me to inherit the throne and earn back my family’s good graces in the public eye, I have to get married. I have to get married soon and to someone who would be a good fit, someone of the right bloodline, someone who would make our crazy fucking family look good. This is the last thing I want, but I’m willing to do it for the sake of the throne, for my father, for the country. And the only way I can do it is if you agree to it.”

  I stare at him for a few moments until I burst out laughing. “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “I’ve been wanting to make you laugh tonight but not like this,” he says quietly. He clears this throat. “I’m not kidding. It’s not a joke.”

  If it’s not a joke, then this man is clearly crazy. “I know you’re into those high-risk sports but I question if you hit your head one too many times. You’re supposed to wear a helmet for a reason.”

  “Look, I know this is insane—”

  “Insane?” I close my eyes, trying to compose my thoughts. “It’s beyond insane. This is…ludicrous.” Shaking my head, I look at him, trying desperately to see the reasoning in all of this. “You’re being forced into marrying someone against your will?”

  “I’m not being forced,” he says sternly. “I have a choice. I’m choosing to do this.”

  “What about marrying for love? You don’t even know me. You don’t even like me.”

  “I never said I don’t like you,” he says quickly. “I do. I think you’re, uh, you have great eyebrows.”

  “Eyebrows!?”

  “And no, I don’t know you but perhaps when it comes down to it, we’ll be a good match.”

  I stand up, my skin feeling tight and agitated, my head swimming as it tries to grapple with this. “Well, since I know the throne is more important to you than love, I’ll let you know that when I plan to marry, I plan to do it for love.”

  His eyes narrow, his gaze so sharp that it makes me feel breathless. “The throne isn’t more important than love is. I’m doing this because I love my family, my father.” I watch his throat as he swallows hard, taking in a deep breath. “This is what my father wishes for me, and I’m the one who fucked up bigtime. I don’t have to tell you what I’m trying to make up for here.”

  The sex tape, no doubt.

  He continues, his tone becoming soft as he looks away, staring off into nothing. “Look, this is just between you and me, but my father isn’t doing well, and all this extra stress I’ve put the family under isn’t helping. I’m supposed to make a public apology to the prime minister in a few days, on camera, and that will help but it won’t put him at ease. I just don’t know what else to do and this seems like the only way out, and the only way I can help him. He deserves this.” He pauses. “I need to do this.”

  I feel a pang of sympathy for him but it in no way changes anything. “I’m sorry that you’ve found yourself in this hole, and I’m sure you’re charming and resourceful enough to climb your way out, but I’m not your answer. Marrying me isn’t a rope…unless it’s a rope around both our necks.”

  “That’s fucking morbid,” he says, giving me an odd look.

  I stand up straighter. “I’m not getting married to you, Your Highness. Not for love, not for your debt, not for your country. I will gladly sacrifice myself for things I care about, but I don’t care about you. You’re a stranger to me and I’m a stranger to you, and there’s no way that’s going to change. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go back to your list and find another woman to take my place.”

  He nods, chewing on his lip. His hair falls across his face, obscuring his eyes. “All right. I respect that. I didn’t think you were cut out for this sort of life anyway. You’re too soft and dainty for the public eye.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask him, feeling a rush of hot blood roll through me. “Soft and dainty?”

  He brushes his hair from his eyes as he takes me in. “That’s what I said. You’ve lived a life of anonymity with no one expecting anything of you, it seems. Not even your father. Why would you trade in the life of an average student for one of prestige and power? It makes no sense at all.”

  Is he trying to do reverse psychology on me?

  “I’m not playing this game,” I tell him.

  “There are no games.”

  “I highly doubt that with you.” I cross my arms. “And please, indulge me for a moment. You would be completely okay with being married to a stranger? You’d be okay with marriage in general? You do know you have a horrible reputation amongst women, don’t you?”

  He glares at me. “I wouldn’t call it horrible.”

  “You’re a manwhore, playboy, womanizer.” I tick off my fingers. “Wannabe Casanova.”

  “Wannabe? I think I’ve fully achieved Casanova status at this point.”

  “You’re proud of it, too. So how on earth do you expect to settle down with someone and marry them? You do know what marriage vows are, don’t you?”

  “This might be different,” he says.

  “You mean you would break those vows?”

  “Wouldn’t you, if you had to?”

  I dismiss him with a wave of my hand. “I don’t even know why I’m discussing this with you. Of course you’d be okay with a lifetime full of illicit affairs as long as your public image remains pure.”

  “There are a lot of marriages like that, more than you’d think, and it would be naïve of you to think otherwise.”

  “T
hen maybe I am naïve and maybe I’m a bit of a romantic. And maybe I have morals and I take things like marriage seriously, which you obviously don’t since you don’t seem to take anything seriously. You think this world is your giant playground.”

  He sucks in a breath as if I’ve seriously insulted him. The glint in his eyes turns mean. “You don’t know me. I take things that matter to me seriously and this matters to me. This is serious. And it would help if you took it seriously too.”

  I press my hand to my chest. “I am taking it seriously. I think this is seriously messed up and that I’m seriously not interested in getting involved in a sham marriage with you.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” He almost looks hurt and I realize I’ve been a little harsh with him. It seems like that’s the only way to get through to him. “Sorry. I’m sorry you have to be put in this position, and honestly, I do wish you the best of luck and happiness. But after this dinner, I have no plans to ever see you again.”

  He nods, exhaling through his nose. “Man. I’m starting to feel sorry for every girl I’ve told that to.”

  I roll my eyes and start to walk away. Unbelievable.

  Just then the French doors open and the Queen steps out, holding up the hem of her dress so she doesn’t trod on it, a cell phone in her other hand.

  “Princess Isabella,” the Queen says in a hush, holding the phone out for me. “It’s your father.”

  “Is everything all right?” I ask, taking the phone from her.

  She nods, a strange look in her eyes as she looks from me to Magnus. “He’s fine. He wishes to speak to you about our arrangement.”

  My brows raise and I look back at Magnus in surprise. Arrangement? There is no arrangement.

  I put the phone to my ear, completely expecting to hear Schnell’s voice. “Hello?”

  “Isabella,” my father says in his thick German accent. “How are you?”

  Oh my god. It’s actually my father.

  “Father,” I say, feeling both breathless and giddy, like just hearing his voice is putting everything right again in my world. “I’m so happy to hear from you.” I glance at Magnus and notice him staring at me. I need to tone it down a bit. “Why are you calling?”