I text Erik letting him know that I am going to get away for the weekend. He should cancel all my plans, at least until Monday. He responds quickly.
I’ll let Fredensborg Palace know that they should expect to see you. Will Margot be going with you as well?
My eyebrows rise. I hadn’t thought to bring her… but I can’t see the harm.
Yes, I answer.Call her if you would. And send a car to pick her up. I’m going to drive myself.
His response is instant.Ja, okay.
An hour later, when I pull up in Fredensborg’s curved drive, Margot stands waiting. I take my helmet off and admire the way her pink hair looks against Fredensborg’s white stucco walls and green metal roof. Shegives me her most aloof look, running her hand over her short black dress.
She looks like a little pink meringue on a dessert plate. My mouth curves up. I stride over to her.
She looks less than pleased to see me. “Why am I here? I’m supposed to be having an evening off, according to the schedule your press office gave me.”
I shrug. “You’re here to keep me entertained.”
Margot glances up at the darkening sky. “Why are we here, though? You could’ve asked me to come anywhere in Copenhagen. No need to drag me all the way out here.” She wrinkles her nose and glances at the palace behind her. “Not that the scenery isn’t majestic or anything…”
“Stop whining,” I command. “Follow me.”
Stalking straight ahead, I climb Fredensborg’s stone steps, entering the palace itself. Two butlers and two maids await me in the grand foyer, curtsying low. I look back at Margot, who is following me with a frown.
“Hurry,” I say, waving her on. “This way.”
I turn right, down an echoing marble hallway. The butlers trail after Margot, as if they are unsure what I could be up to. No one will be left hanging for long, though.
I stop outside of two double doors, swinging them open to reveal my grandfather’s rather large billiards room. There are three red felt pool tables by the far wall. Two long bookcases line the back wall. Standing guard by the fireplace are a taxidermized bear and panther, both posed as if they were about to attack.
As a little boy, those figures both terrified and delighted me in equal measure.
A distinguished bar made of polished cedar sits to my far left. And to my right, there are several couches andchaise recliners made out of red velvet. The walls of the room and the windows are draped in a dark green fabric.
It looks like the Great Gatsby threw up in here, but this room called my name when I thought about where I might spend some downtime. And when Margot steps inside, her eyes widen with awe.
“Oh my god,” she breathes. She glances at me. “Is this place for real?”
“Yep.” I take my leather jacket off and sling in onto an ottoman on my way to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”
She’s not really listening. “Sure, whatever is fine,” she murmurs. “God, it’s like something out of a Hemingway novel in here.”
She runs her hand over the smooth cedar bar top, taking it all in, her tone one of hushed awe.
Pulling a couple of glasses out from the little cabinet below the bar, I smile at her words. “I think my grandfather and Mr. Hemingway knew one another. In fact, I bet that if we went over to the library, there are some signed first editions in there.”
She whirls, pinning me with a stare. “Shut. Up.”
I cock a brow at her. “No.”
“Ugh!” she says, throwing up her hands. As she turns away, looking at the bookshelves that are in here, I smile. She leans over and comes very close to showing me her panties. As a matter of fact, I think I catch a glimpse of them while I pop the cork on a bottle of champagne.
They’re pink and lacy, just as I hoped they would be. If she knew that I could see them I doubt she would like it… so I bite my lip, not breathing a word about it. In fact, I think she’d yell at me for looking at her ass.
Why spoil such a good thing for myself?
“Who picked these books?” she asks. She straightens and turns, biting her lip as I walk over to her.
I hand her a coupe glass of champagne. “Here.”
