With one hand still on the doorknob, he pauses. He turns back toward me, but doesn’t quite look me in the eye. “Goodnight, Astrid,” he says.
Then he’s gone, retreating into his bedroom, leaving me alone beneath a sky full of lanterns.
With a sickening jolt it becomes painfully clear that if I stay in this sham of a relationship, this will be my life. I will be a PR solution, gift-wrapped in a wedding dress to make a marble statue look like a man.
I think of home. I think of the failed energy deal and the schools and hospitals in Elkevik that are counting on this marriage. For the first time, the adventure I craved is becoming a prison. I’m trading my country’s survival for my own soul.
As the tears I’ve been holding back finally spillover, I finally admit it to myself. I’m not strong enough to climb the wall he’s spent a lifetime building.
He never intended for our relationship to be anything more than a diplomatic mission. I may as well be a line item in one of his binders.
In fact, I probably already am.
And I know exactly how the final line will read:Astrid and I are business partners, and that is all we must ever be.
Chapter Sixteen
The Beige Prince… Boogies?
By Penelope Pemberley-Price forThe Ledonian Gazette
Who was caught on camera dancing under the stars last night in the quaint mountain town of Monteluce? None other than Prince Frederic and his beautiful princess. Who would have thought?
It would seem Astrid has done exactly what we wanted of her. She’s managed to breathe much needed life into the monarchy,turning our beige prince from a marble statue into nothing short of a disco diva.
There he was, our famously frost-bitten heir, twirling his fiancée as though he’d been personally choreographed by Cupid himself. And not the stiff, ceremonial swaying we’ve come to expect at state balls, either. No. This was joyful. Unscripted. Dare I say… fun.
Witnesses report laughter. Actual laughter.
Who could have imagined?
Wager this: If Monteluce is any indication, the monarchy is no longer merely enduring.
It’sdancing.
Frederic
I don’t knowwhat time it is when I finally wake, the sheets in a tangled mess at the foot of the bed. Pale light seeps through the edges of the curtains, telling me it’s early morning.
My body feels impossibly heavy, as though a stone has pinned me in place. Every muscle is drained, wrung out. I blink into the dimness, my jaw tightening as the events of the night before rush back with merciless clarity.
I fought my feelings last night, feelings that have been building day by day, minute by minute. Feelings for the woman who has somehow worked her way into my life. Into my thoughts. Into myeverything.
Last night was magnificent. There is no other word for it. The way she coaxed me onto the dance floor. The way she made me forget the crowd, the cameras,the weight of being watched. She called itletting loose. I had no idea I was capable of such a thing.
I have never danced like that before. Not once. Dancing, to me, has always been formal. Proper. Structured. Something done at balls, under chandeliers, according to rules written long before I was born.
And yet with Astrid, I moved without thinking. I laughed.
I could do that every day, I realize with a jolt, but only with her.
She is it. She is the answer. The missing piece in my jigsaw.
Why am I fighting this? Why am I fightingher? She’s all the things I’m not. She’s impetuous and emotional. She makes everything feel like an adventure. She’s smart and witty and fun and so, so beautiful.
Because if I am honest, what I feel for her feels like I’m falling in love.
My eyes squeeze shut as my heart begins to pound.
