I want a princess

riend’s approval was revoked soon enough. “Why are we hanging around in a school carpark?” “Does it matter?” Ruben shifted lower in his seat, even though the Hummer’s windows wer

suggested respect. From Hans, who’d been calling him Ruben forever, it signified an impending lecture. “Don’t start,” Ruben said bluntly, slipping into their mother tongue. His eyes scanned the car park. He felt slightly unhinged. Was he really so eager to see this woman again? Yes. Embarrassingly eager. Hurry up. “Your Highness,” Hans repeated, firmly ignoring Ruben’s words. As usual. “You know as well as I do that the king—” “Really, Hans? You think I want to hear about my brother right now?” “Fine. I was going to remind that the king will not bear another scandal, but that doesn’t matter. You will not bear another scandal.” Ruben stiffened. “Who said anything about scandal?” “Don’t treat me like a fool. I know you’re waiting for

a horse’s hooves. For the first time in the last eight months, he’d been attracted to someone without thinking immediately of Kathryn. Of the mess she’d brought to his door. And Hans had to fucking ruin it. The man had his safety in mind, of course. But Ruben’s desire to know Cherry—know her in every way—had been so pure. Free of suspicion and distrust and anxiety and bad memories. Now it was coloured again by past experiences. Now, when he thought of the power her beauty held, it felt less like something to admire and more like something to fear. Fucking Hans. Fucking Kathryn. Fucking life. “Ruben.” Hans’s voice w

ted, but then, he usually did. Ruben didn’t give a shit. As soon as she saw him, Cherry smiled. Not the charming, dimpled grin she unleashed like a weapon, but something softer, almost involuntary. Her round cheeks plumped and her red lips curved, and Ruben allowed himself to imagine that she was as pleased to see him as he was her. “You’re here,” she said. As if anything could’ve kept him away. “Of course I’m here. Come on.” He took her hand, trying to hide the way even that small touch affected him. Trying to act like it was normal, casual, when really he felt like cheering when she d

his balls tighten. “You would say that, though, wouldn’t you?” She murmured. “It’s true. Get in the car, and I’ll happily provide hard evidence.” Her dark eyes danced. But her voice was serious when she said, “What about my car?” “I can have someone handle that for you.” Her brows shot up, and too late, he realised his mistake: she didn’t know who he really was. And she certainly had no reason to trust any of his staff with her car. But all she said was, “No, I don’t think so.” And