International Guy: Copenhagen (International Guy Series Book 3) Page 4

  On that note she spins around and rushes out of the room, slamming the door in her wake.

  “Holy fuck. What just happened?”

  With the princess nowhere to be found in the castle, I ask Henrik to secure me a cab. He does one better and drives me toward the center of Copenhagen, where I can get away from everything royal and think about what I’ve learned so far.

  “Henrik, how long have you worked for the Kaarsberg family?”

  “I come from a long line of royal attendants, young man. My father served the royal family prior to his death, and in his stead, I took over from there, but I’ve always been with them in some capacity.”

  I nod and glance out the window at the odd-shaped buildings. Outside of the city, many of the buildings look like stacked-up Legos, boxy in shape, but as colorful as a box of crayons. On the flip side, the city buildings tend to be more traditional and historical.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” I ask, feeling out the man. Princess Mary asked me to be discreet and only confirm my appearance as a consultant, but Henrik could be a valuable source of information, having worked for the family all his life.

  “There is little I do not know about, Mr. Ellis.”

  “Can you tell me about Princess Christina and her relationship with her sister?”

  “It’s the same as with any siblings, I assure you. Some rivalry but nothing unusual.”

  “And their relationship with their mother, Princess Mary?”

  “The same.”

  Hmm. I’m not sure if he’s lying to keep the family secrets intact or telling the truth. The shitty thing is I’ll never know because he’s loyal to the royal family, and I’m a nobody to him.

  I bite my lip and think of something he may be able to answer directly. “What about Christina’s relationship to Crown Prince Sven?”

  He smiles. “They’ve known one another since they were babies. Grown up around one another.”

  “Since he’s made his desire to marry Christina known, I’m assuming they were close?”

  “They were an item up until a few months ago.”

  “An item? As in the two of them were a couple?” That tidbit surprises me.

  “He loves the princess very much.” Henrik says this as though it’s a fact rather than an opinion.

  Now I’m getting somewhere. “So it’s no surprise that he wouldn’t want to marry Elizabeth.”

  The butler chuckles. “He sees Princess Elizabeth as a sister, not the woman he wants to share a bed with.”

  “Interesting. I’m assuming both Elizabeth and Christina know this?”

  He nods.

  “But he can’t be happy with Christina’s antics. Though if she’s been like this her whole life . . . partying at all hours, getting drunk . . .”

  Henrik’s voice turns hard. “Princess Christina is going through a phase. I’m not sure why she is doing the things she is doing. A few months ago, she was just as sweet as the public is now seeing her sister. Perhaps part of your ‘consulting’ should include looking into why the change occurred.”

  “Absolutely. I will.” I sit back and focus on the scenery as it passes.

  That’s two people who have said Christina is acting out of character. I don’t think the princess is going to give me any more information. I’m going to have to dig a bit deeper.

  “Would it be possible to set up a meeting with Crown Prince Sven?”

  Henrik smirks. “I shall contact his offices and make your request known, and convey that it is also at the request of the royal Kaarsberg family.”

  “Thank you, Henrik.”

  “Of course, sir,” he says, before coming to a stop at the University of Copenhagen.

  I exit the car and look around, then turn and bend to the passenger-side window. “Where am I?”

  He tips his driving hat, which I gotta admit, he’s working like a stud. “You are near the university. Lots of eateries and shops. Take in the sights and sounds of the city. I believe you’ll find the answers you are looking for where you least expect them.”

  I lightly tap the car. “Thanks, Henrik. I’ll do that.”

  “Call if you need a ride or anything at all. I’ll schedule your meeting with the crown prince at his earliest convenience.”

  “Can you schedule one with Princess Elizabeth as well?”

  He closes his eyes and nods his head. “Consider it done.”

  “Awesome. Have a good day, Henrik. Catch you later.”

  “Farvel.” He says “goodbye” in Danish.

  Once the car drives off I glance around and head down a pleasant-looking street. I turn down one labeled “Fiolstræde.” Young men and women are fluttering in and out of cafés and local businesses. People on bikes zip up and down the street. As we were driving in, I saw more bikes than I saw cars. According to Wendy’s information on Copenhagen, locals call it “Bike Town,” which so far in my experience is the absolute truth.

  As I walk, I admire the brick and stone buildings. The architecture is simplistic but functional and beautiful. Long lasting. These buildings were made to brave any storm, harsh winters, and warm summers. I’d bet most of them have been around for a hundred years or more.

  I stop in front of a set of windows. Inside I see books, mismatched tables, and people eating and working. Bookcases filled to the brim line the walls with titles that urge a person to grab a spine and flip through.

  The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafts in the air, and I follow it into the store named Paludan Bog&Café. Immediately I find a spot in the corner where I can people watch, do some thinking, and have a bite to eat. My stomach growls, and I realize I got up, had a cup of coffee, got dressed, and have yet to provide my body with any sustenance.

  A waitress sees me sitting alone and comes up to take my order. I order a latte this time, along with a burger and fries. I’m going to have to take a run around the estate tomorrow morning and get some exercise if the burger is anything like the picture.

  As I wait and watch the street in front of me, my phone rings. I glance down at the display and smile instantly.

  “Hello—?” I start, but I’m cut off.

  “Is she hot?” is the first thing out of Bo’s mouth. Not a “hello,” not a “how are you doing.”

  “You have a one-track mind.” I laugh, enjoying the sound of my friend’s voice.

  “And you haven’t answered my question,” he quips.

  I grin and look out the window. “Yeah, she’s beautiful.”

  “Man, I knew it! You got the hot chick again!”

  “Wait a minute there, Bogey . . .” I use the name he hates. His mother always calls him that, and while I agree it’s god-awful, it works in a pinch.

  “Dude . . . ,” he whispers, pretending to be hurt at my use of his childhood nickname.

  “The princess is hot but also very hung up on a crown prince. Turns out she doesn’t want to be queen, and her mother wants me to change her mind. How I’m going to do that . . . I have no idea.” I sigh, offloading my frustration onto my partner.

  “You need any help?” Bo offers immediately.

  I tap my fingers on the table and smile. Always willing to jump in at a moment’s notice. “Nah, I don’t think so, though I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do what the client wants. This situation is complex. The hearts are involved as well as the responsibility for a country. It may be above my pay grade, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, I hear ya, brother, but if anyone can do it, it’s you. Still, if you feel like it’s a lost cause, you can just cut your losses and come back to the States. Wendy has plenty of cases lined up—”

  “Wait a minute, what?”

  He snickers. “Yeah, Tink’s gotten all up in our business. Get this . . . she’s marketing us now. Did you know she knew how to do that? Blowing Royce’s mind with all the prospective clients lining up.”

  “Seriously? I haven’t seen anything come through my email.”

  “Roy’s idea. Asked her
to funnel those things through him so you could focus on the case.”

  I nod. “Smart.”

  “She’s really worth her weight in gold . . . ,” he says, and my mind instantly goes to Skyler. Her golden hair and how it falls beautifully around her face.

  Reminders of the dream filter through my mind.

  “Park? You there, man?”

  I shake off thoughts of my dream girl and focus on the call.

  “Yeah, brother, I’m here. Glad it’s working out with Wendy. She’s definitely got it going on. Have you met her boyfriend yet?”

  “Oh yeah. Dude came in to give us a once-over. Get this. He’s a total businessman. Expensive suit. Arrived in a limo. The man is not hurting for cash either. Royce looked into him. Name’s Michael Pritchard. Only goes by ‘Mick’ to his friends. He did not extend that invitation to us when we shook hands. Apparently, he wanted to make it clear to the three of us that Wendy was his property and that we better treat her like the lady she is. He made it clear in his own unique way that he’d probably cut my dick off if I continued to flirt with her.” He laughs heartily through the line.

  “Damn . . .” I let out a whistle-like breath.

  “I know. It. Was. Awesome. Looks like our Tinker Bell has some secrets in the closet.”

  “Don’t we all?” I remark.

  “Too true, brother.”

  “I look forward to hearing more about Sir Mick.”

  “Oh, there’s more to tell. Like the way he snapped his fingers and she rushed over to his side like a fucking dog! And then get this . . . she preened like her only joy in life was to be by his side.”

  “Say what?”

  “I know. I had to hold Royce back from punching the guy. You know how testy he gets when it comes to women being controlled by a man. But then the wildest thing happened.”

  “What?” I am completely enthralled with his story. So much so I didn’t realize the waitress had placed my food and latte on my table until I nudged it with my arm.

  “He turned to her, ignoring us completely, cupped her chin, and caressed her hair with his other hand. Then he said, ‘Are these men treating you right, Cherry? You say the word and I’ll end them for you.’ He even gave a little tug on the lock at her neck. She laughed, lifted up on her toes, and kissed him hard on the mouth and patted his chest like he was the dog. Then she looked over at us and said, ‘Isn’t he the best?’ Like this situation was totally normal.”

  “Bizarre. Well, different strokes for different folks, eh?”

  “Abso-fuckin-lutely. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to flirt and mess with her as much as possible.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.”

  “You going to be okay?” His voice lowers as if he wants me to know he’s there if I need to talk.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of meetings tomorrow to dig further into the situation.”

  “Remember what I said, man—anything you need, we’re here for you. Even if you need to cut and run, yeah?”

  “I got you,” I reply, lifting up my latte.

  “And we’ve got you, brother. Over and out.” He hangs up before I can respond. It’s his way.

  I pick up my juicy burger that has an owl and the word Paludan seared into the bun and take a huge bite. Interesting story about Wendy. I look forward to meeting the strange man who claims her as his property, which she doesn’t even so much as balk at. Then again, I don’t know jack shit about the BDSM world. Who’s to say what’s anyone else’s normal? Not me, that’s for sure. At least Wendy’s found the one she wants to be locked to. Literally. I think about the lock around her neck and shake my head.

  Would I want to lock up Skyler?

  Lock up, no. Tie her to my bed and have my wicked way with her? Hell yes!

  Maybe she’ll let me do that the next time I see her?

  And there I go again. Thinking about Skyler. Fuck, I can’t get this woman out of my mind.

  I finish up my food and hit the streets, intent on walking off my brunch and getting my head back in the game.

  4

  Henrik brings me around the front of the Amalienborg Palace, which is actually a small grouping of four palaces all sitting within an octagonal shape. All four buildings face a courtyard that has a statue of a man on a horse in the center. Henrik tells me the horseman is the commemorative statue for the palace’s founder, King Frederik the Fifth. The palaces are located in Copenhagen, sitting near the water. To this day, the public can walk through the courtyard, tourists can take photos, but entrance to the royal quarters is strictly limited. Still, I find it quite comforting that the monarchy allows its subjects to be a part of the rich history.

  When I arrive, I’m taken through a few corridors and into what I now know is a receiving room for His Royal Highness. At least I think that’s what I’m supposed to call him.

  “His Royal Highness Crown Prince Sven Frederik of Denmark,” a footman dressed in full regalia states in a deep bellow as a strikingly tall man enters the receiving room.

  The crown prince must be at least six feet four or five. He has dark-blond hair that’s pulled back into a tight bun at his nape. His square jaw is hard when he approaches, and there’s a weariness about his gait. His eyes are a piercing blue, the color much like my own.

  I bow a little, not exactly sure how I’m to address him. Damn it. I should have asked Henrik. The crown prince doesn’t say anything until he reaches me. He puts out his hand, and I shake it.

  “Hello, Your Royal Highness, it’s good to meet you. I’m Parker Ellis from—”

  “I know who you are. Please have a seat, Mr. Ellis. I would have canceled today’s meeting after what has occurred this morning, but the information you hold is too important.”

  I frown and take a seat as he walks over to a sideboard and pours himself a heavy dose of what looks like some premium scotch. He doesn’t even offer me a drink, but I don’t think it’s because he lacks manners or tact. It’s as if his mind is somewhere else.

  “I’m sorry if I sound inappropriate, sir, but body language is kind of my thing, and you look like a man who has just had the weight of the world dropped onto his shoulders.”

  He sighs, looks down, and closes his eyes. “It was. My father, the king, took a turn for the worse this morning. He’s been given a few days at most.”

  “Jesus,” I gasp. “I’m sorry, man, I mean, Your Royal Highness, er, sir . . . ,” I try again.

  He offers the tiniest of smiles in response to my fumbling.

  “It’s fine. This is not a formal meeting. In a private setting, you may call me Sven.”

  “Thank you. And you can call me Parker.”

  He nods and sips the amber liquid.

  “Do you want me to come at a better time?” I’m thinking never would be the right time at this point.

  He shakes his head and walks around to where I’m sitting and takes the chair across from me.

  “No. Now more than ever I need this situation handled immediately.”

  “The situation?”

  “My princess avoiding me. Running off and acting out. Telling me to marry her sister, Lizzie . . .” He scowls. “I can no more marry Princess Elizabeth than I could dare touch another woman. Christina is it for me.”

  Well, there you go. A man who knows exactly what he wants and doesn’t have any qualms about stating it. It’s refreshing to say the least.

  I lick my lips and grip my knees, then rub my hands along the front of my thighs. “I appreciate your directness and will follow your lead. I have had two discussions with Princess Christina, and she seems pretty set on her decision not to marry you. Can you give me any background on why that would be?”

  He clears his throat and sucks back more of the amber liquid. I feel for the guy. I can see in the lines at the corners of his young eyes the stress of his responsibilities taking hold. And to find the woman you want . . . doesn’t want you back? Bone crushing.

  “Unfortunately, she keeps te
lling me that I’d be better off with Elizabeth as future queen. She provides no rationale as to why, other than she thinks her older sister, Lizzie, is a perfect princess.”

  Perfect.

  That word keeps coming up in conversations as it pertains to Elizabeth.

  “And what about Christina?”

  His eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She’s perfect for me. Though lately her actions have left much to be desired.”

  I nod. “Will you marry Princess Elizabeth if Christina cannot be swayed?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I could never do that to Christina. Betray our love like that. I’m afraid I’d rather go it alone than be without the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

  I take a deep breath. “Except Christina thinks for some reason that you’ll willingly accept her sister in lieu of her. Why is that?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve been trying to figure out that same thing. Would Elizabeth make a lovely queen? Absolutely. She’s well liked in the country. The paparazzi love her. She looks the part of the average fairy-tale princess. I don’t want average, Mr. Ellis. I want extraordinary, and my Christina is that. Extraordinary. I’ve known both princesses my entire life. Elizabeth and I are the same age. Christina, a year younger. But the two of them are complete opposites. Where Christina is dark and sultry, Lizzie is light and sweet.”

  “So far, I’ve gotten a similar picture, though I have yet to meet Princess Elizabeth. She’s my next meeting.”

  “You’ll understand when you meet her.” The crown prince stands up and refills his drink. While he’s doing so, I move forward on a hunch I have and pull out my phone to turn on the recording feature. Once recording, I place the phone on the chair next to my leg but out of sight.

  “Tell me more about Christina. Why do you want to marry her?”

  “Besides the fact that I’ve been in love with her since we were children?” He laughs.

  “Yes.” I grin.

  “She’s my everything. My perfect opposite. She balances out life’s challenges with her laugh, her kiss, the way she holds me in her arms as though the sun rises and sets with our love. She is my fairy-tale bride. The only woman I see standing by my side.”