Stefanos gives a wry smile.
I gulp air, my face hot, slightly light-headed. “So… I don’t know much longer I can be a consultant. Mamma may tell me that I need to return to Copenhagen as soon as I’m back in London. And I have projects lined up for months. But as soon as Freja abdicates, it’s showtime for me. Very soon. Mamma is trying to get her to delay, at least.”
My eyes sting for a moment until I push that aside.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, still holding my gaze.
“It’s not the life I imagined for myself. I mean, I should be thrilled, right? Lots of people would love to be King. But I love my freedom and independence that I have right now. I knew I’d have more royal responsibilities one day. And I was okay with that idea and mentally prepared for it. This… is beyond overwhelming. And meanwhile, I’m a mockery in the press, which is no kind of way to represent the monarchy. My reputation’s trash.”
His gaze eases. “It’s not.”
“I’m the playboy prince. Not king material. Not to be taken seriously.”
“You can be, if you want. Or… you could abdicate too.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know if I could do that. I mean, yes, technically, I could, but I don’t have any other brothers or sisters, which means my cousins are next in line, and some of them have their own scandals and lives and… it feels like I would be letting my father down too.”
Stefanos nods slowly. “I understand.”
“…and that feels worst of all.” I fidget with the cuffs of my sweater. My shoulders slump as I try to imagine life in Copenhagen as the King. It’s too hard to envision. Every time I try, it’s blank, and I can’t breathe. “And there goes my plans. And chances at a normal life.”
Stefanos shifts closer, turning in his seat. He tilts his head slightly, entirely focused on me. His expression softens.
I force myself to look away, down at my hands. “And, let’s be honest, the ruined reputation is mostly my own doing. I haven’t done myself favors. So… my friends have just come up with this scheme where I can go on some fake dates with respectable men and I guess eventually find one to marry. I don’t know. Which would make it real enough dating in the end. But I mean, who would willingly date me, even fake date me, after the tabloids?”
“Theo,” Stef murmurs. He reaches out and touches my arm.
My head snaps up. I search expression, stricken. Then, there’s something in his face that’s open and hopeful. “Yeah?” I whisper.
“I’d happily go out with you on your first fake date.” His eyes dance.
“Don’t mess with me, ’cause I really can’t take it.”
My face warms, and we both lean in towards each other, ever so slowly. The rain patters against the glass. The wind makes a sound as it blows. I’m fixated on his lips, how tempting they are and how good they will taste pressed against mine?—
Then, there’s a terrible sound as the yacht hits something—and we lurch hard back against our seats.
Chapter Eighteen
A moment later, there’s silence again as the yacht continues smoothly once again on its path. I stare from Stefanos to outside through the rain-covered window and back to him again.
Stefanos instantly refocuses on the controls and screens. “Fuck!”
“What the fuck was that?” Gripping my seat, I look outside again, but all I see is open water and Paxos off in the distance.
“We hit a reef.”
“A reef?”
“A shallow reef.” Stefanos continues to swear under his breath in Greek. He stabs a finger at the chart. “Here.” He springs up.
“What should I do?” I ask in a rush.
“Stay right there.” Then Stefanos rushes to the lower deck.
“She’s taking on water,” he yells up to me a couple of minutes later.
“Fuck. That’s definitely not good. Now what?” Alarmed, I get to my feet and look around.
