Astrid
I can barely findthe words to describe how wonderful I feel tonight as we make our way back to our hotel from the festival. We’re not walking hand in hand like lovers, but we are together in a way we haven’t been before. The dancing, the laughter, the way it felt to be held in his arms, it was all absolutely magnificent, and it has left me filled with hope for what our future might become.
We reach our suite, with its view over the mountainsand the town scattered below, lights glowing softly in the darkness. It’s picture-perfect, of course. And now, with this new, fragile sense of whatever this is between us, being here feels quite magical.
I kick off my shoes and flop onto the sofa, my whole body buzzing as I grin at Fred. “Tonight was absolutely wonderful, wasn’t it? I loved dancing with you. You’ve gotmoves. Where have you been hiding those?”
He smiles, and I know at once that it’s real because it reaches his eyes. It’s not the careful, composed smile he gives photographers. This one is just for me.
“I had an excellent teacher,” he says.
I pat the cushion beside me. “Why don’t you come and sit? I’m far too excited to sleep. We could talk for a while.”
He hesitates, and the pause feels heavier than it should. I wonder what’s running through his mind. Whatever it is, I don’t want it to steal this moment from us.
“Please?” I add softly, tilting my face up to him, hoping he can see how much this evening has meant to me.
He moves to sit beside me, the cushions dipping under his weight, close enough now that I’m acutely aware of him. He hasn’t taken off his shoes or his blazer, as though he’s still braced to leave at any moment.
On a sudden surge of courage, I lean over and begin to unbutton his jacket.
“What are you doing?” he asks, startled.
I freeze, my fingers resting against his chest. “I was only going to undo the buttons so you could take it off. You look uncomfortable.”
“Oh.” His voice softens. “I see. Of course.”
He takes over, slipping out of his jacket, and the gesture feels strangely intimate, like we’re peeling away more than just layers of fabric.
But perhaps I’m reading too much into the simple act.
My gaze drops to his shoes, still pristine and formal. “What about those?”
He glances down, then back at me. “You want me to take my shoes off?”
I smile. “I want you to relax. Where’s the disco diva I saw earlier?”
His lips quirk, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Are you calling me a disco diva? Me? The Ice Prince?”
I nudge his shoulder with my elbow. “Go on. Kick them off. It’s just us.”
He looks at me for a moment longer, and then, to my surprise, he unlaces his shoes. Of course, he doesn’t kick them off the way I did. Mine are flung across the floor without ceremony. His, on the other hand, he places neatly side by side at the edge of the sofa, as though he might slip his feet back into them at any moment.
I press my lips together to hide a smile.
When I first arrived in the country, I found his control frustrating, like it pinned him in place. Now, I find it strangely charming. Endearing, even. He isn’t my free spirit. He’s a touch grumpy in comparison with me, but he’sFred. He is who he is.
I know there’s more work to do to break down those walls. I suppose it will take time, and I’m prepared to give him that time. The man I’ve seen beneath the princely façade has shown me he’ll be worth the wait.
I lean a little closer, resting my elbows on my knees, angling my body toward him. “Honestly, you should go on a talent show. They’ll call you the Dancing Prince and you’ll take Europe by storm.”
He laughs, a warm and genuine laugh, and the sound rolls through me, sending a ripple of something through mychest. It strikes me how rarely I’ve heard it. I didn’t even hear it when we were children, that time we visited Villadorata.
The thought makes my chest tighten.
“Was there ever a time when you were just a kid who played and made mistakes?” I ask, toying with the fabric of my dress.
The moment hangs between us, and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line.
