I want a princess

isation with the Academy's personal prince. Or something. None of that happened. In fact, nothing unusual happened at all. Until she left work that afternoon. She chugged down the long,

ra flash popped into view, sending stars across her vision. No way. No fucking way. "It's her! That's the car!" Oh, fuck. A fist banged against her window, and then one guy sprawled his whole

And she needed her mind clear for this conversation. Cherry tore her gaze from his face and forced herself to speak. "I thought you said the press would leave me alone?" "In Helgmøre," he said, "there is an understanding between my brother-the king-and the media. The royal family are protected from certain invasions of privacy. That agreement does not, unfortunately, extend to the activities of the British press." "Great," she said woodenly. "Perfect. Just what I need." "I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry." She pursed her lips. Frankly, that wasn't much of an apology. It had all the key parts: 'I'm' and 'sorry'. But she wanted something a bit more impactful. Something involving skywriting and a grand band, perhaps. Just a few ideas. Maybe she should write him a list. "Cherry," he said, after her silence went on a little bit too long. "Are you going to talk to me?" Before she could stop herself, she tutted. And then was utterly mortified. God, she sounded like her mother. The corner of his lip tugged up into a smile. "I take it that's a no." At her blank stare, his smile faded. He sighed, sitting upstraighter, planting both feet flat on the floor. "You're right, obviously. Why should you talk to me?" His tongue snaked out to wet his full, lower lip. "And I have a lot to say. Do you mind if we drive?" She shrugged. He reached over and pressed one of the buttons lined before the nearest blacked-out window. "Køre." The car slid into movement, so smooth she almost didn't notice. "Alright," Ruben said, clasping his hands together. "I know you like to keep things to the point-" "And yet," you she murmured, "you continue to babble." He grinned. Apparently, he didn't care what she said, as long as she spoke. "I do, don't I? It's natural, I'm afraid." She arched a brow. "Now you're doing it on purpose." "What can I say?" His voice deepened, became darker, rich as molasses. "I seem to behave badly around you." Cherry swallowed, hard. She clamped her knees together and tried to forget the feeling of his hands tugging at her suspenders. Didn't work. So she talked over the images crowding her brain. "Whatever you're trying to say here, get on with it. Please. Before you bore me to death." For the first time that morning, his eyes captured hers and didn't let go. His gaze was steady, impenetrable, unavoidable, as he g

iancée. For a year. In the ensuing silence, Cherry became acutely aware of the low hum of the car's engine, its smooth glide forward. She wondered, suddenly and pointlessly, where they were. Was the driver circling the block? Probably not. That would cause unnecessary attention. Maybe they were heading towards the city, where a car like this wouldn't garner as much notice. Maybe- "Cherry," Ruben said gently. "Are you alright?" Was she alright? Now she thought about it, she was tapping her foot rather rapidly. And clenching her fists kind of tightly. Her nails must be carving some serious crescent moons

cted. "You're right. I am terrible at explaining things. I have no finesse." "Really? I would've said your problem was getting to the point." "Fine." He held out his hands, as if in supplication. "The point is this: I need a fiancée-specifically, you-because of yesterday's shit-show. And, yes, I realise it was mostly my fault." "Completely your fault." He winked at her. Actually winked at her. "Well, maybe. But I never take full responsibility if I can help it." "Wow. You really are a pr

ebt. No more panic. Her whole family-her parents, her uncle and her aunts-could stop pouring all their money into Maggie's education and healthcare, could stop hiding the way it gutted them all. And her sister could continue to live the life she deserved, without worrying about the limitations of her illness. But it couldn't be that easy. Could it? She licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry. "I don't know if an engagement with me would... would help you avoid a scandal. Or whatever it is you want." He crossed his arms, watching her with all the patience in the world.

y're saying about your country's royal family, don't you?" She set her jaw, refusing to allow that point. "But I'm not a princess-to-be. I haven't agreed to this." "But you will," he said softly. "If you weren't going to, you'd have told me so already. Wouldn't you?" Cherry looked at the contract. She looked at her hands. She remembered her mother's face two years ago, the day Maggie had received her acceptance letter from Harvard. She remembered the last time she'd stayed with her parents, over Christmas, when they'd refused to turn the central heating on. Acting like they didn'

f their agreement, blah blah blah... Cherry looked up. "You know you've forced me into this. You understand that, right?" He looked stricken. "I-" "You let me think you were just some guy. You kissed me knowing that something like this could happen. Then you opened your big mouth and made it happen. You have all the power in the fucking world compared to me, and I..." She huffed out a laugh. "I need money. Have you ever needed money?" His face was solemn as he said, "No. I have never needed money." "Lucky fucking you." She stared down at the contract. "I don't want to do this." "Cherry-" "But I'm going to. I'm going to lie to everyone I know, lie to the world." Just the thought of it turned her stomach. "And you're going to pay me. And in a year, I will walk away and do my best to pretend this never hap