International Guy: Copenhagen (International Guy Series Book 3) Read online

  “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 won’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.”

  Christina embraces her sister, and the two of them hold one another, both of their faces wet with tears.

  Bo claps his hands and sighs. “I love a happy ending.” He grins. “Where’s the champagne, Princess? Let’s get this party started.” He nudges Princess Mary, and she grasps a bell on her desk and rings it.

  “Yes, Your Highness?” Henrik enters the room.

  “Please bring our finest champagne up from the cellar. My daughter has agreed to marry the king of Denmark.”

  Later that evening, I pick up the phone and dial her number while lying in bed.

  “Parker . . .” Her voice is sultry and sweet. It sends a rush of excitement skittering through my veins, warming me from the inside out.

  “Peaches.” I hum her nickname, imagining her scent filling my nostrils.

  “How are you?” she asks, yawning.

  I glance at the clock and realize it’s three in the morning here, but it’s not that late back on the East Coast.

  Once we got the champagne flowing, we got Sven and Christina both drunk as skunks, and they’re now sleeping it off in her room . . . then again, sleeping may be the wrong word. Fucking like rabbits might be better. We ended up spending the day with Sven and Christina, talking about the king and Enok. They shared countless stories with us, while Bo spread his admiration and attention on Princess Elizabeth and I laughed my ass off at all the shenanigans these royals have gotten up to over the years.

  “What time is it there?”

  “Just after nine, but I had a long day going through lines with Rick.”

  I cringe. Rick.

  “Now, now, I can hear you grumbling all the way here in New York.” She laughs softly.

  She is not wrong. The simple mention of his name grates on my last nerve, but I have no real claim on Skyler, so I keep my feelings to myself and focus on her and the here and now. “Just wish I were there with you instead.”

  “Mmm. Is the job over?” she asks with a hint of happiness in her tone.

  What sucks is I’m going to have to ruin that happy vibe.

  “Unfortunately, no. I’ll be here for another two weeks.”

  A long sigh flows through the line. “Honey, I’ll be filming starting next Wednesday. Which means you won’t be able to visit.”

  “I know.”

  “That blows.” She harrumphs loud enough to bring a smile to my lips.

  “Not in the good way either,” I declare, hinting as much innuendo as possible.

  She giggles, and the sound fills my heart.

  “I have an idea, though, if you can swing it?” Hope coats my tone.

  “Yeah?” she responds with a perky lilt.

  “Well, it seems as though I’ll be overseeing some royal training for the new queen as the crown prince is now the new king of Denmark . . .”

  “Oh no! That means the current king died. Now I’m sad again.”

  Man, my girl is sweet. Too sweet. And smart. Jesus, my brain is fuzzy from all the alcohol and lack of sleep.

  “It is sad, but the silver lining is that Crown Prince Sven is going to marry his queen two Sundays from now.”

  She gasps, and I can just imagine her cuddled up in her bed, legs crossed, phone pressed to her ear. Her hair would be a wild mess of golden tangles, her face free of makeup, and she’d be wearing a tiny pair of bikini underwear and a camisole. Her standard sleeping attire. Unless she’s with me. Then I’d strip her of every bit of clothing and gorge on her naked skin and sweet spots all night long.

  My dick hardens but only halfway. I’m too fucking tired to even yank it right now.

  “That sounds like a busy time for Denmark. Burying the king, having the crown prince step into the shoes as king, and a royal wedding . . .” She lets out a long breath of air.

  “Yes, it will be.”

  “So, what did you have in mind for us?” A hopeful note accents her words, and I smile and curl into the bed farther.

  “Well, I was wondering, Ms. Paige, if you’d like to accompany me to the royal wedding of King Sven Frederik of Denmark to his bride-to-be, Princess Christina Kaarsberg, two weekends from now. I thought perhaps you could fly in Saturday and attend the royal event as my date.”

  “Are you freakin’ kidding me!” she screams through the line, so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “Oh my God. This is so awesome! A real royal wedding with princesses and kings and queens. Oh my God!” she squeals, and I can hear her bed squeaking in the distance. I know that squeak. Very familiar with hearing it when I’m fucking her hard into the mattress.

  “What are you doing?” I chuckle, loving how much I’ve pleased her with my request.

  “Jumping on the bed, of course!” The squealing and squeaking continue.

  I wait a minute more until she gets her bearings and comes back to me, out of breath and panting. “Okay, just to be clear. You want me to accompany you to a royal wedding in Denmark two weeks from now.”

  “Yes . . . but if you’re too busy . . .”

  “Fuck no! I’m so there, pretty boy! Now I just have to get the production company and director to agree. Though attending a royal wedding means good press, especially if I promise to answer a few questions . . .” She’s apparently thinking out loud.

  I chuckle, wanting to bring her back to the here and now. “Pretty boy. That’s new.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re pretty and I like you. Plus, you’re a boy.”

  “What happened to honey? I rather liked honey.” I lower my voice a few degrees, proving just how much I liked her endearment.

  She h
ums in that way that perks my tired dick right back up to half-mast. I cup my length and give it a pity squeeze.

  “I’ll have Wendy make the arrangements,” I offer.

  “I can fly myself there.”

  “Yes, but you’re my date, and when I take you on dates . . . I pay. Period.”

  “How chivalrous,” she quips. “I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  “I’m looking forward to fucking my way through Sunday night!” I growl. “Don’t plan on getting a lot of sleep. You can sleep on the plane ride home.”

  She laughs heartily. God, I miss her laugh. So free and full of life.

  “Duly noted. I’ll await your assistant’s information.”

  “Okay. I’ll make sure to have her contact you for information on your bodyguards. They should attend as well. There’s going to be a lot of press here.”

  She sighs deeply. “Right. Makes sense. I’m sure Rachel will love attending a royal wedding.”

  “As long as she loves making sure no one but me gets their grubby hands on you, I’m glad.”

  “So dramatic,” she tuts.

  “Hey, I want to make sure I can fuck you another day.”

  “Is that all you can think about? Fucking me?” Her words are meant to sound irritated, but I know her better than that. The woman is just as interested in getting ridden hard as I am in riding her.

  “Yes! Don’t pretend you’re not dying to hit the sheets. I don’t know about you, Peaches, but the beast is tired of my right hand.”

  “It’s a good thing Biggie isn’t going to have too much longer to wait.” Her voice dips to that low timbre that drives me bonkers.

  “I knew it!”

  “Shut up,” she groans.

  “You want me.”

  “I said shut up!” She laughs.

  “You want me naked.” I lower my voice to a sexy timbre.

  “Do not!”

  “You want to be naked with me.”

  “Nuh-uh!” she fires back.

  “You want me up against the door, the bed, in the shower, on the floor, whatever surface I can find. And believe me, Sky, I will have you everywhere. That’s a promise.”

  “Erm . . . okay. Yes, please!”

  I laugh hard and then yawn around my hand. “Baby, I need to go to bed. You need to get plans together to come to Denmark in two weekends.”

  “I can’t wait,” she says dreamily.

  “Hey . . .” I roll the words I want to say to her around in my head for a moment.

  “Yeah?”

  “Aside from the fucking . . . I miss you, Sky. Miss your laugh. Your smile. Sharing a meal with you. Christ. I miss sleeping in your bed. I feel as though I haven’t slept in weeks.” I groan, letting her hear how frustrated I truly am. The woman’s done something to me. Changed me somehow, but I’m not quite ready to spend too much time evaluating those changes.

  “Me too. Why is that? I mean, I’ve spent my whole life sleeping alone. Then you come around. I spend three weeks with you, and you’ve ruined me!” She laughs.

  This time I hum around another yawn. “Same here. See you soon.”

  “Okay, honey.”

  Aw, there’s my honey.

  “Dream of me,” she says, then hangs up, and I know for a fact that tonight, I will see nothing but her when I close my eyes.

  9

  “No, no, no. It’s shoulders back, stand tall,” Elizabeth tuts, running her hand down the length of Christina’s spine to show her how to stand appropriately.

  Christina groans. “I’m tired. I know how to stand, Lizzie. Just like I knew which fork went with which dish. I’ve lived in this house my whole life. Undergone all of the same training as you . . .”

  Elizabeth narrows her eyes. “You spent more of your time running off and sneaking snuggle time with Sven than finishing up your studies and training.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you want my help or not?”

  Christina rolls her eyes and nods.

  Elizabeth opens a binder full of what I have learned are rules, tip sheets, and an overwhelming amount of detail on the appropriate protocol for nearly every situation that could possibly arise in the royal monarchy.

  “Quiz time . . .” Elizabeth claps her hands exuberantly, enjoying every minute of Christina’s training to be queen.

  “I need a break, Lizzie. You’re boring me to tears, dear sister.”

  Elizabeth practically shoots laser beams out of her eyes at Christina. “This is not boring. It’s necessary. And you will learn every bit of it and make our family proud . . .”

  “Because it’s not possible that I could do that on my own by just being me,” Christina snaps.

  “I didn’t say that,” Elizabeth huffs, her hand going to her chest.

  “You didn’t have to.” Christina turns on her heel and is about to storm off when Bo stops her.

  “Come over here, my lovely.” He hooks Christina’s hand at the crook of his arm. “Let’s sit and have some coffee and a chat. Shall we?”

  “What’s the point? I’m never going to be any good at this.” Her tone is desolate.

  Bo looks over his shoulder. “Princess, can you give us a thirty-minute break? Parker and I need a word with Christina.”

  Elizabeth lets out a sharp breath. “Fine, but thirty minutes and not a second more.” The princess struts out of the room as though she has a royal stick up her tight little ass.

  “She is cold.” Bo pretend shivers.

  Christina chuckles momentarily before defending her sibling. “No, it’s that it’s important to her. To my family. You see, this is why I’m not sure I’m going to be any good at being queen.”

  I reach out and pat her hand. “Hey now, you are doing wonderfully. Besides, this is not two hundred years ago. A lot has changed in the royal practices, and a lot can still change depending on who is sitting in those seats. You and Sven are going to do a lot of great things together—as a team. You’re not alone. He’s going to be there with you every step of the way.”

  She purses her lips. “True.” The word is barely out of her mouth before she’s shaking her head. “What if they don’t like me or they think I’m a bad queen?”

  “What’s not to like, my lovely?” Bo interjects. “You’re beautiful. Educated. Charitable. Kind. And most of all, you love the king with your whole heart.”

  Christina’s eyes turn misty. “I’m not sure it’s enough.”

  This time I grab hold of her hand and cover it with both of mine. “Christina, you have been serving your people for ages. Volunteering for countless causes, personally serving. Not just gifting monies when needed, but digging in and helping your countrymen. All of that has come out. The press has eaten it up. The people are smitten with you and your story and are currently voting on which dress designer you should wear at the wedding, not what type of queen you’ll be.”

  She laughs.

  Bo looks her dead in the face. “The Oscar de la Renta. Period. No substitution.”

  I groan. “Bo, seriously, you’re getting off topic.”

  “No, brother, I’m not. The dress is all-important. And it’s the Oscar de la Renta. Perfect for her. That man is a genius when it comes to hourglass figures.”

  Christina covers her mouth, the tears a thing of the past as laughter overtakes her. “Bo’s right. Of the dresses I’ve received, it’s the Oscar.”

  Bo tilts his head toward me, looking rather smug.

  “Be that as it may, I want you to look at yourself and tell me what you see that’s wrong with you.”

  She bites her lip. “For the past few months, I’ve partied—”

  I cut her off. “In the past. We’ve already dealt with that in the press, mentioning the sowing of wild oats in your youth. Blah, blah. Next.”

  “I’m not as knowledgeable as Lizzie.”

  “Which is why she’s training you. Next problem? And believe me, I can do this all day. Try me.” I pretend to yawn as though I’m bored.

  “Ho
w’s about we switch it up?” Bo sits down next to her. “How’s about you tell us why you think you’d make a good queen.”

  She twists her lips and taps the bottom one. “I’m a royal.”

  “Besides that,” I encourage.

  “Well, I’m going to try very hard to be what Sven needs, what my people need.” Her tone is genuine and filled with heart.

  I nod. “All anyone can ask for in a brand-new, shiny queen. What else?”

  Christina licks her lips. “I care about the issues plaguing our country and our people. I want to try and help, get involved.”

  “Are the royals involved now?”

  “Somewhat. I think we could do better.”

  “All sounds great to me. What else?” I prod, wanting her to really see what she brings to the table just by being her.

  She traces the rim of her coffee cup. “I’d like to do more for women in the workplace. There are still women doing the same job, getting paid less . . .”

  I smile wide, tilt my head back, and laugh. Bo joins in.

  “What?” She cracks a quirky curl of her lips.

  “Do you not hear yourself? Everything you’ve stated proves how very much you are going to wow the people of Denmark. Bravo!”

  She tilts her head to the side. “I never thought about it that way. I just want to help.”

  “And wouldn’t you say that desire to help is what will make you a very successful queen? One for the history books, no doubt,” I add.

  Her entire expression brightens as if a beam of light has shone through the window, targeting her beautiful face. “You know, Parker, perhaps you’re right. Maybe I can do this, just by caring, standing by Sven’s side, and just . . . being me.”

  “Now that’s a queen I’d look up to.”

  The brisk morning air flutters against my cleanly shaved jaw, sending a bout of shivers running down my spine. I barely notice as I stand outside the limo, waiting for her to walk through those double doors. Unfortunately with the royals getting married, the airport is a hub of activity, paparazzi everywhere. Skyler didn’t care when I spoke to her over the phone last night. She wanted me to meet her at the airport.