International Guy: Paris, New York, Copenhagen (International Guy Volumes Book 1) Read online

  I pull her into my arms, sensing she needs the support right now. “Princess. He doesn’t want the perfect queen. He wants to be happy. He’s a man in love, and he wants to marry the woman he sees himself spending the rest of his life with. Everything else will fall into place. You can learn to be a good queen, though I think you’re selling yourself too short.”

  She grips my T-shirt and sobs into my chest. I wrap my arms around her body and simply hold her. Just hold her while she lets it all go.

  “Why don’t you trust Sven to know what he wants? What he needs? And, sweetheart, he’s chosen you. Now it’s time for you to choose him. Own your future. Be the woman who slaps fear in the face and jumps into life with both arms open. He’ll catch you. I promise he will.” I kiss the crown of her head.

  “I’m so scared of messing up. What if I fail?”

  I loosely run my fingers through her hair. “Sweetheart, what if you succeed?”

  She shakes her head. “I was never supposed to have to choose this life. It was supposed to be me and Sven, happily being a prince and a princess but never having to serve anything. The plan was always Enok and Elizabeth as future king and queen. We didn’t want this.”

  I cup her cheek. “Life sucks sometimes. Shit happens. We have to learn to adapt. To grow. Change.”

  “Own our futures?” She tosses out the mantra I’ve given her a couple of times now.

  I grin wide. “That’s right. Life isn’t easy. I don’t think it’s meant to be. If everything were easy, we wouldn’t know how to appreciate the good when it happens.”

  She sniffs, and another tear falls down her cheek. I wipe it with my thumb.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Her voice cracks.

  “What does your heart tell you to do?” I offer, believing that she will make the right choice, come out of this funk of hers, realize she can do anything if she puts her mind to it, and go get her man.

  Her entire face crumples before me, and I know in that second that all I’ve said is lost to her emotions.

  “Let Sven be the king he’s meant to be. Step aside so he can lead to his fullest potential. Make his family proud.”

  “Christina . . .”

  She pushes her forearm against her mouth, and more sobs escape. “No. I can’t do this. It’s selfish of me to want to be with him . . . ,” she chokes out, then spins around and rushes to the door.

  “Christina, wait! Let’s talk about this!” I call out as she rips the door open, then stops abruptly.

  “Well, hello, beautiful.” Bo grins, places a hand up on the doorframe, and leans to one side.

  Christina barely glances up before she pushes past him and runs out.

  I sigh and sit heavily on the messed-up bed. “Fuck!” I grip my hair and add to the pain in my head. Damn, I need some painkillers.

  Bo saunters into the room, his motorcycle boots overly loud against the old wood floors.

  “Looks like I interrupted an awkward night-after speech.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth and winces.

  I groan. “No, you didn’t. I didn’t sleep with her.”

  His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “No? Why the hell not? She is wicked hot. I’d have tapped that chicklet in a second.”

  Sometimes seeing one of your best friends can be the most irritating thing in the world. That’s where I’m at right now. “Bo, she’s not a chicklet. She’s the freakin’ princess I’m here to tame.”

  He tugs at his goatee. “And since you didn’t bed her, she’s definitely not been tamed.” He smiles cheekily. “I’m not getting it.”

  “Sit down. Have some coffee. I’ll get you up to speed. Do you have any ibuprofen by the way?”

  Bo chuckles and drops the satchel he had over his shoulder to the couch and pulls out a bottle. It flies through the air, and I catch it in my palm.

  “Thanks.”

  “Always keep some on me,” he says, heading over to the coffee cart. He pours me a cup of black coffee, knowing how I take mine, and hands me the cup, no saucer.

  I grin and take the cup, washing the pills down with a swallow of coffee.

  He pours himself a cup, goes back to his satchel, and pulls out a couple of bottles of whiskey. He pours one into his, walks over to me, and pours one into mine. “Trust me. A little hair of the dog, three of those pills, and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

  I nod and sip the more potent drink, allowing the whiskey to heat my stomach.

  “Now tell me what’s going on in Castle Kaarsberg. Wendy didn’t know anything, just handed me a plane ticket and an order to pack my photo equipment.”

  Once I get my thoughts together, I look over at one of my best friends in the entire world, hoping to hell he can help me fix this. “Here’s what happening and why I need you here.”

  Two days later, with absolutely no run-ins with the princess, I’ve got my plan working perfectly.

  “You’ve made contact with the paparazzi for the first two sets of photos?”

  He nods. “Easy peasy. Promising them a deal on pics as long as they release them all when we choose was an easy sell. They don’t have to do jack shit, and they get never-before-seen photos of the wild child doing her secret charity work. The first one should be hitting the wire now. The next later this evening. And today’s will be first thing in the morning.”

  I grin as we make our way into the nursing home. My part in this was ensuring that the places she helped were getting equal mention. If the general public knew that one of the royals was donating their time, money, and efforts to these causes, hopefully it would get some locals doing additional giving.

  Bo hides his camera away in his bag and starts chatting to one of the older gentlemen. Princess Christina won’t likely recognize Bo, since she was in such an emotional state when they crossed paths initially. Besides, she’s definitely not expecting him to take pictures of her when she’s not looking.

  What she doesn’t know, hopefully, won’t hurt her. When it comes to this woman, who claims to be selfish yet is really one of the most selfless people I know, I’m choosing the route of tough love. Or in this case, friendship. Princess Christina feels she’s unworthy to stand by Sven’s side, regardless of her love for him. She’s willing to give that up in order for him to assume the role she believes he needs to. Only I’ve spoken to Sven several times now. The crown prince has checked in with me daily to see if I’ve been able to sway his future bride.

  It’s all so sad. Two people who want to be together so much they risk their own future happiness in order to protect the other. Sven by choosing to live his life alone if he can’t have Christina. And Christina choosing to let him go in order for him to be the king she believes he can only be . . . without her.

  I smile at my awesome plan.

  My phone goes off, revealing I have a message. It’s an email alert on Christina Kaarsberg’s name.

  The headline reads: “Saint Princess Christina, Her Secret Life of Charity.”

  This is going to be so good.

  Bogart and I barely make it into the receiving room in Kaarsberg Slot the next morning when Christina attacks, slamming three different newspapers against my chest. “What have you done!” she screeches.

  Her mother stands behind her, a speck of a smile gracing her lips.

  The princess’s mom, happy for once? Shocker.

  “You are the only one who knew! I’ve been doing this for years in secret. Years!” Christina cries out.

  Bogart walks behind us and straight over to the older princess, where he takes her hand, dips his head, and kisses the top of her hand. “At last we meet, Princess Mary. I had no idea you were this stunning in person,” he coos to the client.

  I grit my teeth but let him try to charm her.

  She stands even taller, not that I would have imagined it possible. Princess Mary looks like she has an ever-present stick up her ass, ensuring her posture never falls even a smidge.

  “How do you do, Mr. Montgomery.” She speaks
more softly than she did with me.

  I shake my head. Freakin’ Bo. Can charm the pants off anyone.

  “Why would you do this to me?” Christina rants, pacing the room, her dark hair flowing behind her in soft chocolate waves. Her cheeks are rosy, proving that anger looks good on her.

  I lift the papers and read the headlines.

  Saint Princess Christina, Her Secret Life of Charity

  Princess Christina, Not So NAUGHTY After All

  The Royal Giver

  “I like that last one. Suits you.”

  She groans and lifts her hands. “You’ve ruined it all . . .”

  I fold the papers, tuck them under my arm, and stand with my hands clasped in front of me. “You mean I’ve restored your reputation. You’re welcome.”

  Her eyes flash with anger so bright the blue of her irises has turned an icy gray.

  “You have done a great job, Mr. Ellis and Mr. Montgomery.” Princess Mary walks to the couch and sits down properly, her tone haughty and pompous as usual. “My husband and I are very pleased, as is the crown prince.”

  “Sven?” the princess gasps, and her shoulders drop.

  “Yes. He was delighted to see this side of you released to the public. We’ve already received countless interview requests from the local media. You’ll be meeting with them next week.” She issues the order as if she’s just stated Christina has to do the dishes after dinner. The woman treats her daughter like a mere child even though she’s twenty-five years old.

  Christina stops pacing and glares at her mother. “I will do no such thing.”

  Her mother stands abruptly, her ire filling the air in the room with a stifling thickness.

  “You will take this opportunity to respect yourself, your family name, and your future role. Wash away the last few months’ disgraceful behavior and present a new princess for the public to adore.”

  Christina closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I won’t, Mother. You can’t make me.”

  “No, I cannot. Though once you see the happiness in your father’s eyes, the pride . . . you be the one to tell him you’re not the kind, loving, charitable woman the media has presented you to be. The woman he’s proud to call his daughter to anyone and everyone who will listen.”

  I walk over to Christina and pull her into my arms. She fights me at first, but I don’t let her escape. “I wish I were sorry, but I’m not. You deserve the attention you’re receiving. You need to see the value you bring to this country.”

  “No.” She tries to push me away, but I don’t let her go.

  “Listen to me. Get this through your thick skull, Princess: You. Are. Worthy.”

  “I agree . . . ,” comes a deep voice from the door.

  Christina spins around, her entire body locking at the sight of the crown prince.

  His blond hair is in loose waves around his shoulders. His tie is hanging limply around his neck, and the suit he’s wearing has seen far better days. It looks as though he slept in it. Even with all of that, it’s his eyes that worry me the most. They’re filled to the brim with unchecked emotion. A man who’s about to crumple at our feet.

  “Sven. What’s the matter?” Christina rushes to him, her hands cupping his cheeks.

  He swallows and drops his head. The man looks like he doesn’t have a friend in the world. Christina tilts her own head to look him in the eye. “Talk to me. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me!”

  Sven pulls her into his arms and buries his face in her thick hair. He’s the picture of a man who’s lost it all.

  “I need you so much . . .” His voice is haggard, broken.

  “Why, Sven? Honey, why?”

  Honey.

  That one word has me missing the only woman who’s ever called me that. I grip my hands into tight fists and breathe deeply.

  “My father . . . ,” he chokes out in a deep rumble.

  “Your father . . . ,” Christina repeats, petting his hair, caressing both of his cheeks.

  He stares into her eyes as if she’s his salvation. Clutches her to him as though she’s his entire world and he needs her in order to stay standing. A man completely devastated and utterly in love.

  “The king is dead.”

  8

  Right before my eyes, the massive, Viking-looking Sven breaks down. And when I say breaks down, I mean he falls to his knees, clutching Christina as though she’s his lifeline.

  She cries out, trying to prevent him from falling, but nothing can. The man is knee-deep in sorrow, and Christina is his only hold on reality.

  She wraps her hands around his head as he presses his face into her stomach. “I can’t do it alone, min elskede.” He clutches at her body, his arms seeming to wrap more tightly around her. “I beg of you . . . Christy. Don’t make me. I need you. Please . . .” His words come out tortured and desperate.

  My own heart pounds against my chest while witnessing this man fall apart. I know if it were my father who’d passed, I’d be a broken shell of a man.

  Christina’s tears fall down her cheeks so fast they drop onto his face. His blue eyes are filled to the brim with grief as he stares up at the woman he loves. Begging.

  I can see the war raging within her as she focuses on the man she loves with her entire being, but I know how good she is at running away from those feelings. Right now, she can’t. She has to make a choice. My voice is rough when I speak out loud to the entire room but for her benefit alone. “He’s pleading with you, Christina. Choose him as he’s choosing you.”

  I watch as her entire body trembles in his arms. “I’m not good enough . . . ,” she croaks while running her fingers through Sven’s untamed locks.

  He grips her fingers, brings them to his lips, and kisses them. “You are all that is good to me. Everything I need. And right now, I need you so much. To be with me. Stand by my side . . .”

  She closes her eyes for a brief moment. The entire room goes dead silent. Not even a breath can be heard.

  “I’ll be there for you . . . ,” she sputters through her tears.

  I smile. She’s made the right choice.

  He rests his forehead on her belly, his broad shoulders quaking with the overwhelming amount of emotions obviously hitting him. Christina holds him through it, her own tears silently falling.

  “Forever?” He lifts his head, eyes pleading, waiting for her to take the ultimate plunge.

  She nods. “Forever.”

  “Holding my hand . . .” He grabs hers and interlaces their fingers.

  “Becoming my wife . . .” He cups her cheek.

  “The mother of my future children . . .” He stands and leans his forehead against hers, cementing their connection.

  “My queen . . .” His lips hover over hers as he stares unblinkingly into her eyes.

  “Yes, Sven.” Her voice shakes. “I’ll hold your hand.” She raises her own to cover the one of his cupping her face. “I will be your wife.” She lifts her other hand to his cheek. “I’ll have as many children as God blesses us with.”

  Christina closes her eyes momentarily. In complete awe, I watch as her face seems to brighten. Her spine straightens, and she stands taller, stronger.

  “I will be your queen.” Her voice is firm, and her words hold conviction.

  He smashes their lips together in what looks like a bruising but much needed kiss between the lovestruck duo.

  “I think we should um . . . go?” I glance to Princess Mary, who is smiling wide for the first time since I’ve arrived. Bo, of course, has his arm around her shoulder, grinning away.

  Sven pulls far enough back to inhale a huge lungful of air. He grips Christina around the waist, tucks her to his side, and faces us. “We shall wed in two weeks’ time. Sunday, we will bury the king. The following Sunday I will marry my queen. Father would have wanted it that way.”

  “Oh my, Your Majesty. That is a lot to prepare in two short weeks,” Princess Mary objects.

  He smiles so wide I’m not certain his cheeks w
on’t split in two on each side. He sidesteps her objection and gives a verbal one-two punch. “It shall be done. I will have Mother get in touch tomorrow.”

  “We can bring in resources to help plan, if needed,” I offer.

  Sven nods, lets Christina go, and takes the dozen steps needed to stand in front of me. “I owe you the world, Mr. Ellis. What you’ve done to help secure me my life’s happiness will not be forgotten. The king of Denmark . . .” He frowns. “How do you say? Owes you one?”

  I grin and chuckle, taking his large hand in mine. “Yeah, that’s about right, but I don’t feel as though I did much. The love was there—the princess just needed to believe in herself, her worth, and your love. And I’m sure you’ll help her get over her fear of failing the country in her new role as queen.”

  “He won’t have to. I will.” Princess Elizabeth enters from the doorway behind us. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard it all. I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. After what happened to Enok, this is an incredible loss to your family.”

  Sven claps me on the shoulder and turns to Elizabeth. He opens his arms, and she hugs him, closing her eyes and squeezing him tight. When she opens them, her own eyes are shimmering with tears. She clears her throat, lets go of the crown prince, and pulls her sister into her arms.

  “Christina . . . I’m sorry you felt you were unworthy of the crown. More than that, I’m sorry for my part in it. I’ve been grief stricken since Enok’s passing, and I . . .” Her words fall away, and she pulls back. “No, that’s an excuse. I . . . I w-wasn’t kind to you. We’ve always been the best of friends. Planned to spend our lives close, married to brothers.” She chuckles lightly, then firms her jaw.

  “Something happened to me when I lost Enok. It’s as though the better half of me died in that accident. I should have never, never,”—her voice is a rushed whisper, tears falling down her cheeks—“never thought I could marry Sven. He’s your soul mate. Your forever. I want that for you. And I’m sorry. So sorry. I would be honored to help you with whatever you need to learn to be a strong, respectful, and grand queen.” She clasps her sister’s hands and lifts them between the two women, her eyes only on Christina. “Because . . . I believe in you, Christina. I always have. I always will.”