No, it’s not just that, actually. It’s more that I won’t let him in to find out all the secrets about my past that I’ve buried. I don’t want him to know just how poor I used to be. I don’t want anyone to realize how fucking sad I am deep down either.
My cell phone beeps in the pocket of my leather coat. Shaking my head, I pull it out and read the screen. It’s from an unknown number, but I have no doubt that Anna sent it.
I just got off the phone with a friend of a friend who says that you and Stellan were kissing at a club last week. That’s interesting, isn’t it?
Before I can respond, she sends another message.
I think that warrants a more thorough search of your background. After all, you are cozying up to the crown prince… What do you think I will find?
My face heats. I block the unknown number, furious.
How dare Anna imply that I’m out to seduce Stellan for financial reasons? The whole idea is so wrong that it takes every ounce of willpower not to throw a tantrum right here and now.
For all the good that would do…
Stellan emerges from the shop, each hand holding a little white pastry bag. He hands one to me and continues his walk down to the shore.
“Umm…” The bag is warm in my hands. I get a whiff of vanilla and sweet baked bread. “Thanks?”
I hurry to follow him, peeling away the pastry bag to reveal a sort of creamy yellow custard overflowing it’s donut container. He takes a bite and moans.
“It’s so good.” He chews for a moment. “They are called skolebrød and they are the best thing to come out of Norway, period.”
I take a small bite, managing to get custard and powdered sugar absolutely everywhere. It’s yeasty and sugary, custardy but light. My eyes light up. “Oh, that is good.”
He smirks at me. “Don’t say I never bought you anything.”
And with that comment he starts walking faster, leaving me and my short legs woefully behind. I smile ruefully at his comment, then savor another bite of the pastry.
Chapter Nineteen
Stellan
“You actually managed to make this on your own?” Margot asks. I can’t tell if she’s teasing or not, but I did make this popcorn on the stove with no assistance.
I roll my eyes and hand her the huge bowl, plopping myself on the couch beside her. “I can make popcorn,” I say, a little defensive. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
Her lips curl up at the corners. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
She takes a few pieces and puts them in her mouth, chewing. Then she nods. “Someone exceedingly smart made this. I can tell.”
I make a face and reach for some of the popcorn. “What kind of wine do you think goes with popcorn? A chardonnay, maybe?”
Margot pulls a face. “Maybe, I’m not much of a wine drinker.”
Settling back on the couch, I give her a measuring look. “You’re missing out.”
She grins. “Really? I don’t feel like I am. I feel like I’mjust fine over here, with my beer sipping and whiskey guzzling. It turns out, you don’t need money to have a pretty good time.”
That’s the tenth time that she’s brought up money since she got here. I wonder if she realizes that she wears her apparent poverty like a nationalist drapes himself in his flag. It’s all she seems to want people to see when they look at her. It’s almost like a suit of armor that she puts on.
Doesn’t that protective shield grow heavy sometimes?
I watch her rummage around in a box of board games. “Hey, do you want to play cards or something?”
My lips twitch. “Not a chance.”
Margot sighs, setting the box aside and munching on popcorn. She slides her gaze to me, smirking. “Okay. What do you want to do? Play twenty questions? Or let’s go even more mature… truth or dare?”
