42
SCARLETT
We Are Family
Viggo grew up in Danderyd, a suburb of Stockholm. It was surrounded by water on three sides and boasted some of the most expensive real estate in Sweden.
After a short drive from the hospital, he turned onto a quiet waterfront street and drove until he came to a nineteenth-century villa framed by ice-covered trees. The three-story house was beige and boxy with a wraparound porch, upper balconies and a steeply pitched roof. It sat on a grassy slope overlooking the water.
“Wow.” Scarlett stared up at the house as Viggo pulled into the long driveway. “You grew up here?”
“I did,” he drawled, cutting off the engine. “My parents bought this place years before I was born, so I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
“Wow,” Scarlett repeated, admiring the house. “I guess you’d never have to buy them a mansion, huh?”
He chuckled. “Not that I haven’t offered, but they don’t want a mansion. This house is big enough for their needs, and they have a lot of wonderful memories here. To be honest, my siblings and I would probably stage a revolt if they ever tried to move.”
Scarlett laughed. “I wouldn’t blame you. This house is amazeballs, and I haven’t even been inside.”
Viggo smiled, then leaned over and brushed a tender kiss across her lips. “Thank you again for coming. It means a lot to have you here with me.”
Scarlett smiled into his eyes. “There’s no place else I’d rather be.”
He stroked a finger down her cheek and gave her another kiss, then lifted his head and smiled at her. “C’mon, gorgeous. Let’s go inside.”
They climbed out of the car. When the cold air hit Scarlett, she shivered and hunkered inside her coat, hugging herself as Viggo grabbed their bags from the trunk. As he led the way up a set of curved stone steps, icicles dripped from the bare tree branches, sparkling like diamonds in an enchanted forest.
Viggo unlocked the front door and ushered her into a large entryway where a square mirror hung above a country pine table adorned with fresh flowers.
“Ohhh,” she breathed, instantly charmed by her surroundings.
In true Swedish fashion, the décor was mostly white—white walls and white furniture with gray accents arranged on light hardwood floors.
Though eager to explore, Scarlett remembered to remove her boots at the door. She’d barely gotten them off before Viggo grabbed her face and kissed her again.
She giggled against his mouth. “Are you gonna get all amorous every time I observe Swedish custom by taking off my shoes?”
“Probably,” he murmured between kisses. “I can’t help it. It turns me the hell on.”
She grinned. “Well, don’t get too turned on, ’cause you won’t be getting any action while we’re staying under your parents’ roof.”
“Wait, what?”
Laughing, she broke away from him and wandered into the high-ceilinged living room. She turned in a slow circle, soaking it all up. The beautiful architectural details, the intricate ceiling moldings, the antique Swedish chandelier, the arched windows that framed a stunning view of the icy lake. One wall was lined with bookshelves crammed with leather-bound classics. And there was a tiled corner fireplace, the embers of a fire glowing inside.
Despite the pristine elegance of the décor, the house was unbelievably warm and inviting, the aroma of burning wood and cinnamon scenting the air.
“Oh, Viggo,” Scarlett marveled, gazing appreciatively around. “What an absolutely beautiful home.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” He came up beside her, rubbing her back. “I’ll give you a tour after we get settled in. My mom made dinner. Are you hungry?”
“I’m not starving, but I can definitely eat a homecooked Swedish meal.”
“Good,” he said warmly. “Let me show you my old room. That’s where we’re sleeping.”
Scarlett felt almost giddy as she followed him up the curved staircase to the second floor. Halfway down the hall, he turned left to enter a spacious bedroom with cool gray walls, a huge bed stylishly layered with white blankets, and tall windows that overlooked a big backyard with a covered pool.
“Here we are.” He dropped their bags on the floor next to the bed. “It’s been redecorated, of course. But this is where Rikard and I spent our childhood trying not to kill each other.”
Scarlett grinned as she looked around the room. She could picture the two brothers roughhousing, laughing rambunctiously and sharing secrets—good and bad.
“I love it,” she sighed, admiring the striking simplicity of the décor. Dangling overhead was a fabric pendant light, a staple of Swedish bedrooms. A large flatscreen television was mounted on the wall opposite the bed.
When a silver picture frame on a side table caught her eye, she walked over and picked it up. It was a photo of Viggo and Rikard when they were children. They stood together in front of a snow-covered red barn. Viggo was holding a hockey stick while Rikard held a pair of skis spread apart in a V shape. They were both beaming at the camera, blond hair shining in the sun, smiles as bright as a thousand Christmas lights.
Scarlett grinned, her heart melting at the image. “Look at you two. Heartbreakers even back then.”
Viggo came up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the picture. “That was taken at our grandparents’ farm.”
“How old were you?”
“Rikard was nine. I was eight.”
A year before the abuse started, Scarlett thought. No wonder he looked so happy. So boyishly innocent and carefree.
She smiled wistfully, touching his sweet image with her fingertips. “You and Rikard looked even more alike back then.”
“I know.” He nuzzled her hair. “We were often mistaken for twins.”
“I bet.” She studied the picture another moment, then put it down and turned to face Viggo. He’d removed his coat and sweater, leaving only his undershirt and slacks on.
She smiled at him. “Your mom and dad must be so proud to have such tremendously successful children. Not every parent can brag about having a CEO, an Olympic gold medalist, an NHL star and a supermodel as offspring.”
“True.” Viggo slid her coat off her shoulders and tossed it onto an accent chair. “They’re proud of all of us.”
“As they should be.” She watched as he unfastened the belt at her waist. “What’re you doing?”
“Undressing you.”
“I see that.” Her lips twitched. “Why?”
He lifted her tunic sweater over her head and threw it on top of her discarded coat. “I thought we could take a hot shower before we eat.”
She crossed her arms over her exposed chest. “Together?”
Mischief swam into his eyes. “Of course.”
“Really, Viggo?” Her voice was breathy. “Shower sex? When your family could return at any moment?”
“They won’t catch us.” He reached behind her to unhook her bra, kissing her long and slow.
She felt herself melting against him, succumbing to the heady power of his sensual spell. “How do you know they won’t catch us?” she managed to whisper.
He slid her bra off and palmed her breasts, smiling when her nipples puckered tight. “Rikard promised to give me a heads-up when they’re on their way home.”
She grinned, unbuckling his belt. “So he’s, like, your partner in crime? Your wingman?”
“The original.” Viggo grinned as he peeled off her leggings and panties, crouching to pull them all the way off.
She stood there naked and shivering with anticipation as he shoved his pants and briefs down and stepped out of them.
She licked her lips, staring down at his huge bobbing cock.
“Thought you said you weren’t starving.” His eyes gleamed as he fisted himself. “You look pretty ravenous to me.”
She shot him a dark glare, causing him to laugh as he grabbed his phone and then lifted her into his arms. She’d barely wrapped her legs around his waist before he was carrying her out of the room and down the hall.
Grinning into her eyes, he taunted, “Now what were you saying about me not getting any action while we’re here?”
“I’ll make an exception just this once,” she grumbled. “So make it good.”
As if shower sex with him could ever be bad.
* **
She awoke the next morning in her favorite position, cradled in his arms with her backside tucked against his groin as he spooned her.
Could there be a more perfect way to start the day?
A lazy smile curved her lips as pale sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows, warming her face. She could hear voices downstairs, cheerful banter and laughter blending with the muffled clatter of pots and pans. The sounds were as inviting as the aroma of hot coffee wafting through the house.
The bed was so warm and comfy, and the protective heat of Viggo’s body felt like pure heaven. She wasn’t ready to get up yet, but good manners dictated she should go downstairs and offer to help with breakfast.
As if anticipating her train of thought, Viggo tightened his arm around her waist and rumbled, “Stay right where you are.”
She grinned. “I didn’t even make a sound. How’d you know I was awake?”
“I always know when you’re awake,” he murmured against the back of her neck. “I know your body like my own.”
A shiver of pleasure ran through her.
Sighing contentedly, she snuggled even closer to him, smiling when he made a sound low in his throat and slid his hand under her snug Rebels T-shirt. He stroked the warm skin of her stomach, sending ripples of sensation through her body.
When his hand dipped below the waistband of her panties, her insides tightened and her breath quickened.
“Viggo...” She felt his heavy erection thickening against her ass and grinned weakly. “Down, boy.”
“Too late.” He sat up and rolled her onto her back.
She stared up at him as he levered over her, making a place for himself between her legs. He was so sexy, all bulging muscles and bedroom eyes and hard cock. “You are really pushing it.”
“Not yet,” he said wolfishly. “Let me get you nice and wet first.”
She laughed at the dirty innuendo. “Dude, we are so not doing this right now.”
He nuzzled her neck. “Why not?”
“Seriously? Your whole family is downstairs!”
“And?” He rocked against her crotch with shallow thrusts.
She bit back a moan. “Viggo—”
There was a loud knock on the door followed by a singsong voice calling out, “Good morning! Are you two up?”
“Yeah, we’re up!” Scarlett called back breathlessly.
Viggo scowled at the interruption. “Go away, Svea.”
Scarlett took extra careful note of the way he’d pronounced her name so she wouldn’t butcher it. Svay-ahh.
“Mamma wanted me to tell you guys that breakfast will be ready soon,” Svea said through the door.
“Fine,” Viggo growled. “Now get lost.”
Scarlett laughed. “He didn’t mean that, Svea!”
“Uh, yes I did.”
“I know you did.” There was laughter in his sister’s voice. “Are you guys decent? Can I come in?”
“Sure!” Scarlett said.
“No!” Viggo barked at the same time.
The door burst open. “Rise and shine, lovebirds!”
Scarlett saw a blur of tousled blond hair and laughing blue eyes before Svea dove across the foot of the bed.
“Vad i helvete?” Viggo rolled off Scarlett and leaned back on his elbows to glare at his sister. “Get out!”
The Teutonic blonde giggled impishly and held up her phone to snap a group selfie.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Viggo demanded.
“Taking a picture with my grumpy big brother and his awesome girlfriend. You don’t mind, do you, Scarlett?”
Scarlett grinned. “Um, no, I guess n—”
Svea beamed and snapped a photo using Snapchat’s cartoonish dog filter. “So cute!” she squealed. When she sat up on the bed, her blond hair spilled down her back like waves of silk. “Let’s do another one—the flower crown!”
“Hell no,” Viggo snapped.
Svea stuck her tongue out at him. It was hard to reconcile this silly, playful girl with the bikini-clad sex kitten currently fueling the lustful fantasies of men and boys around the world. Seriously. Svea’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover damn near broke the Internet.
She scooted up the bed, wedging herself between Scarlett and Viggo. “C’mon, Scarlett. It can be just you and me since Viggo’s being such a meanie.”
Scarlett laughed. “Okay. Give me a sec.” She sat up and wiped her eyes to remove any crust, then quickly smoothed down her mussed hair. She’d forgotten to pack her bonnet, so she’d have to see about buying a satin scarf or something. Where was a beauty supply store when a black chick needed one?
Svea grinned at her. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Svea put her cheek next to Scarlett’s and took another Snapchat selfie with the flower crown filter. She showed the pic to Scarlett and gushed, “We look so pretty!”
Scarlett grinned wryly. “Well, I mean, you are a supermodel.”
Svea laughed and waved her off, then added a caption to her pic and shared it with her gazillion followers.
Viggo shot her a pointed glare. “If you’re done taking selfies—”
“Oops! Sorry!” She scooched back down to the foot of the bed, flipped onto her stomach and grinned cheekily at Viggo. “Remember how I used to sneak in here on the weekends and wake you and Rikard super early?”
“How could I forget?” Viggo grumbled, lips twitching. “You were a real pain in the ass, Svea. The more things change...”
She laughed, blew him a kiss and then sighed. “I miss you, big brother. I’m really glad you’re here. I mean, I’m sad that Farfar had a heart attack. But it’s good to have you home.”
Her words softened Viggo, coaxing a fond smile out of him. “Thanks, kiddo. It’s good to be home.”
The affectionate exchange warmed Scarlett’s heart.
Svea let out another sigh. “I wish I didn’t have to leave in a few days.”
“Where are you going?” Scarlett asked curiously.
“Spain. I’m doing a photo shoot for Vogue.”
Scarlett grinned. “Sounds exciting.”
“Sure.” Svea shrugged and forked a hand through her hair before a sudden twinkle lit her eyes. “Speaking of photo shoots, I can’t wait to see your spread in GQ. You and Viggo looked so hot in that picture they tweeted!”
Scarlett chuckled, glancing sideways at Viggo. “It was a…memorable experience.”
His eyes glinted. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Svea grinned at them. “You two are so adorable!”
“No more pictures,” Viggo warned when she picked up her phone.
She pouted.
“Svea plans to become a photographer when she retires from modeling,” Viggo humorously explained to Scarlett. “She wants to be the next Annie Leibovitz.”
“Really?” Scarlett grinned at Svea. “That’s awesome.”
“I want to photograph you,” Svea told her. “You have such gorgeous skin and features, your eyes are so expressive and your lips are to die for.” She grinned. “Viggo just gave me a fancy new camera for Christmas. Can I take some pictures of you before I leave?”
“Uh, sure. Why not?”
Svea gleefully clapped her hands together. Scarlett found her rather endearing. Not quite what she’d been expecting from a size two Swedish supermodel.
“How old are you, Scarlett?” she asked.
“Twenty-four.”
“I knew it—we are close in age! I’m twenty-two!” Svea beamed excitedly. “We’re gonna be such good friends!”
Scarlett laughed, thoroughly charmed.
“I smell cinnamon.” Viggo sniffed the air, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Is Freya making cinnamon buns?”
“Ja.” Svea smiled. “She knew you would want some right away. And she wanted Scarlett to try them, too.”
Viggo’s grin broadened. “God, it’s good to be home.”
Scarlett and Svea laughed.
“We never have pastries with breakfast,” Svea explained to Scarlett. “But Freya made a special exception for you and Viggo.”
“I appreciate that,” Scarlett said warmly. “I didn’t get to have any cinnamon buns the last time I came to Stockholm, and I know how much Viggo loves them.”
“Freya’s are the best,” Svea asserted. “They’re better than anything you could find in a bakery.”
“Definitely,” Viggo agreed. “Anyway, Svea, I gotta take a leak.”
“So? What’re you telling me for?”
He gave her a pointed look. “I have to get out of bed and I’m not wearing any shorts. Unless you wanna get an eyeful of—”
“Ewww!” Svea jumped up and ran squealing from the room as Viggo laughed. As she headed back downstairs, she could be heard playfully tattling, “Mamma, Viggo has a girl in his room!”
Scarlett burst out laughing.
“You see what I had to put up with,” Viggo grumbled jokingly.
She grinned. “Luckily for me, I didn’t have any younger siblings. I was the bratty tattletale.”
He grinned. “No wonder you two are getting along so well.”
Scarlett laughed again. “That could be it.”
He leaned over and nipped her shoulder. “We’ll finish this later.”
“You wish.” She grinned and hopped out of bed before he could grab her.
After brushing their teeth and washing up, they followed the tantalizing scent of cinnamon down to the kitchen where Viggo’s mother, Freya and Astrid were bustling about finishing breakfast.
They greeted the newcomers with cheery smiles. “God morgon.”
“Good morning,” Viggo and Scarlett chorused.
“Did you sleep well?” Hedda asked.
“Absolutely,” they said in unison.
The Sandström women laughed.
“Listen to you two,” Freya teased. “Do you finish each other’s sentences, too?”
Viggo and Scarlett shared a grin. “Sometimes.”
This drew more laughter.
Hedda poured them coffee and motioned for them to sit at the butcher block center island. “Breakfast is almost ready. Your father’s getting dressed for work, Leif’s on a business call and Rikard’s on his way.”
The kitchen was as beautiful as the rest of the house. It was large and modern with white walls, white tile backsplash, tall white cabinets and gray marble countertops. It looked like something out of an interior decorating magazine. The use of so much white should have made the room appear sterile and uninviting, but it was the complete opposite. Scarlett could totally see herself rolling up her sleeves and cooking right alongside Viggo’s mother and sisters.
Admiring the décor, she took a sip of her coffee and tried not to grimace. Swedes liked their coffee very strong.
Viggo’s mom gave her a knowing smile. “Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please,” Scarlett said sheepishly.
Viggo bumped her shoulder with his and winked. “Wimp.”
She laughed.
His father walked into the kitchen, greeted everyone warmly and accepted a steaming cup of coffee from his wife. He was wearing an expensively cut navy suit with those thick black frames that accentuated his chiseled bone structure. Talk about a silver fox.
Viggo was on his phone checking hockey scores and watching highlights from last night’s game. The Rebels had pulled out a win against Vancouver, so he was relieved but anxious to return home and jump back into battle.
As Scarlett sipped her sweetened coffee, Leif and Svea entered the room arguing. Leif’s hair was combed back from his breathtaking face, and he was dressed for the office. Holy crap. It should be illegal how well these Sandström men wore suits.
Svea was saying, “You don’t see me lecturing Rikard and Viggo for posing shirtless on magazine covers.”
“That’s different,” Leif countered.
“How so?” Svea demanded.
Viggo glanced up from his phone. “We don’t have breasts.”
“Seriously?” Svea and Scarlett sputtered in unison.
Viggo’s eyes twinkled at Scarlett. “Stay out of this.”
“Why should she?” Svea turned to Scarlett, hand on her hip. “You see how they try to silence women?”
“I know,” Scarlett agreed. “It’s pathetic.”
Leif gave a deep, rumbling laugh. “No one’s trying to silence either of you. All we’re saying is that it’s unnerving to think of strange men fantasizing about our baby sister.”
“But it’s okay for women to fantasize about you?” Svea challenged. “Do you know the kinds of things my friends say about you, Rikard and Viggo?”
A spark of masculine interest lit Leif’s eyes. “What do they say?”
“Indeed.” Viggo grinned. “Do tell.”
When Scarlett punched his arm, he threw back his head and laughed. The contagious sound made his mother, Freya and Astrid glance up from their tasks and smile.
Svea wasn’t amused. “That’s right. Derail the conversation by making jokes.”
Scarlett snorted. “Typical.”
Leif gave her a look of appreciative indulgence. “Hon är mycket vackert,” he drawled to Viggo. “Så vad gor hon med dig?”
When Viggo grinned, Scarlett divided a suspicious glance between the two brothers. “What did he say?”
Svea made an exasperated noise. “He said you’re very beautiful and he asked what you’re doing with Viggo.”
“Oh.” This took some of the starch out of Scarlett’s spine. She felt her lips twitch, wanting to smile.
Leif drank his coffee, his gray eyes glinting at her over the rim of the cup.
“Don’t fall for it, Scarlett,” Svea warned. “Flattery is another derailment tactic.”
“You’re right.” Scarlett gave Leif the sternest look she could muster.
He let out another one of those deep, sexy laughs.
She and Svea looked at each other and rolled their eyes in solidarity.
Viggo grinned at Leif. “You just had to get her started this morning, didn’t you? And now she has an accomplice.”
“I know.” Leif playfully ruffled his sister’s hair. “I’m all for celebrating gender equality, Svea, but it’s too early for one of your feminist rants.”
“Feminist rants?” Svea turned to their father in exasperation. “Are you hearing this, Pappa?”
“I am,” he said from behind his newspaper.
“How did such a brilliant, enlightened man raise such chauvinist pigs?”
“Now, now, Svea,” Hedda interjected, taking umbrage. “Don’t be so hard on your brothers. You know they love you. They just want to protect your virtue.”
Svea rolled her eyes. “What patriarchal rubbish. My virtue doesn’t need protecting.”
Ludvig chuckled indulgently as he lowered his newspaper to smile at his daughter. “I understand where you’re coming from.”
“C’mon, Pappa,” Leif guffawed. “Are you telling us that you’re happy with Svea’s swimsuit cover?”
Ludvig cleared his throat. “I’m very proud of your sister for landing the cover of such a popular magazine,” he said diplomatically.
Leif and Viggo looked amused. “But?”
“I might have been happier if she’d worn a less, ah, revealing swimsuit. Such as a one-piece.” He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth and smiled through the rising steam. “A muumuu could have worked as well.”
Everyone burst out laughing. Even Svea.
Rikard appeared in the doorway, looking around in amusement. “What’d I miss?”
More laughter broke out.
With a dramatic flourish, Freya removed a pan of cinnamon buns from the oven and set them on a rack. The heavenly aroma saturated the kitchen, making Scarlett’s mouth water as she stared at the hot buns speckled with pearl sugar.
Rikard came over to say hello, raking his windswept hair away from his face. “What’re you guys doing today? Is Viggo taking you sightseeing?”
“Tomorrow.” Scarlett smiled. “I’m going with him to visit some children at the hospital this afternoon.”
Her heart had turned to mush when she found out that Viggo visited terminally ill children every time he came home. He brought them gifts, read to them, played games and signed autographs. According to his mom, the children idolized him and always looked forward to his visits. His big heart just made Scarlett love him even more.
Rikard stood beside her, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the island counter. “Maybe I’ll tag along with you guys when you go sightseeing tomorrow.”
Viggo snorted. “I don’t think so.”
Rikard laughed and winked at Scarlett before walking away to get some coffee. The man filled out a pair of jeans as well as Viggo did. Wow.
“Okay, everyone,” Hedda cheerfully announced. “Time to eat!”
The kitchen flowed into a spacious dining room with white paneled walls and an oak table that was long enough to seat twelve. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a series of French doors overlooked the water.
Viggo pulled out a chair for Scarlett and then sat next to her.
Rikard sat on the other side of her, earning a dark glance from Viggo. He clearly enjoyed messing with his brother, though Scarlett knew it was just harmless fun.
Their parents sat at opposite ends while everyone else took their places around the table.
Scarlett surveyed the platters of food that had been brought out from the kitchen. They were having a traditional Swedish breakfast that included hot porridge topped with fresh berries, hard-boiled eggs and open-faced sandwiches. The sandwiches consisted of a dark bread topped with butter, cheese, smoked ham and cucumber. There was also something called knäckebröd, also known as crispbread. It looked like a big cracker and was garnished with caviar that came in a blue tube labeled Kalles Kaviar.
Viggo explained things to Scarlett while his mother graciously fixed her a plate. Once the meal was under way, the first thing she sampled was the cinnamon bun. The gooey center was dark and rich with cardamom spice, tingling over her palate and making her mouth water.
Everyone was watching for her reaction.
“Yum,” she breathed. “That is delicious.”
Freya beamed with pleasure. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“I love it.” Scarlett took another bite and sighed blissfully, sending warm laughter around the table. Viggo had already scarfed down half his cinnamon bun and was eyeballing another.
Ludvig smiled at Scarlett. “We all enjoyed your national anthem performance at Viggo’s game. You have quite a gift.”
Scarlett blushed as the others murmured agreement. “Thank you, Dr. Sandström,” she said shyly. “I appreciate your kind words.”
He smiled, stirring his porridge. “I understand you graduated from a prestigious music school.”
“Yes. Berklee College of Music.”
“That must have been a wonderful experience,” Hedda said warmly.
“It was,” Scarlett confirmed, smiling. “I got to participate in several performances every year, and I belonged to a student organization that provided hands-on experience managing record labels and concert venues.”
Ludvig smiled at her. “Sounds like your time there really prepared you for becoming a professional musician.”
“Oh, absolutely. It was great.”
Ludvig and Hedda exchanged pleased glances.
Svea grinned, smearing caviar on her crispbread. “Your bandmates are hot.”
“So hot,” Freya and Astrid giggled.
Scarlett grinned. “I’ll tell them you said so.”
This set off more giggles.
Viggo and Rikard rolled their eyes at each other.
“Berklee’s in Boston, right?” Leif asked, redirecting the conversation. “You and Reid both went to college in Boston.”
“We did, but not at the same time. He graduated four years ahead of me.” Scarlett grinned. “I used to watch his Boston College games, and I always rooted for him in the Frozen Four. When he got drafted by the Rebels, my whole family celebrated like we’d just won the Stanley Cup.” She paused. “Well, except Nadia. She didn’t watch hockey, so she didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. She was like ‘Reid who?’”
Everyone laughed.
“And now she’s engaged to him,” Freya marveled. “How ironic.”
“I know. I tease her all the time.” Scarlett grinned broadly. “Of course, we also went crazy when the Rebels called Viggo’s name. We couldn’t believe we’d been lucky enough to get both him and Reid. That was the best draft ever.”
Warm chuckles swept around the table.
Viggo put his hand over hers briefly, his eyes twinkling with appreciation. She could tell he was pleased at how well she was getting along with his family. She was feeling pretty relieved herself.
Astrid grinned sourly at her. “Speaking of your cousin, I’m not too happy with her.”
Scarlett widened her eyes. “Why? What’d Nadia do?”
“She stole my future husband. I was supposed to marry Reid.”
Viggo snorted. “Over my dead body.”
Everyone laughed.
Leif grinned at Astrid. “Do you plan to boycott their wedding?”
She gave a haughty sniff. “I haven’t decided.”
As more laughter swept around the table, Astrid grinned and bit into her sandwich.
Freya sighed dramatically. “My heart still belongs to Hunter.”
“Good,” Svea said, “because Logan’s mine.”
Viggo shook his head. “Again. Over my dead body.”
As exclamations of protest erupted from his sisters, he chuckled and sipped his coffee. “Whine all you want. I’m not letting my teammates date my sisters. End of story.”
This set off more grumbles.
“You seem to forget that we’re grown women,” Freya said archly. “You can’t stop us from dating whomever we want.”
“Maybe not,” Viggo conceded. “But Hunter and Logan won’t go anywhere near you. They know better.”
More pouting occurred.
“Sorry, ladies. The man has spoken.” Rikard turned to grin at Scarlett. “So you don’t have any sisters?”
“I don’t,” she said with a regretful grin. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” He winked at her.
Pretending to stretch, Viggo reached behind Scarlett’s chair and smacked the back of Rikard’s head.
The table erupted in laughter.
Hedda smiled, shaking her head at Viggo. “I know your old friends are eager to catch up with you. Will you have an opportunity to see them after you visit the children at the hospital?”
Viggo nodded. “Scarlett and I are having dinner with all of them tonight.” He grinned at her. “I told them to bring their girlfriends so you won’t feel outnumbered, even though you’re used to being one of the boys.”
She returned his grin. “I look forward to meeting them. Maybe they’ll have some embarrassing stories to share.”
He laughed. “They’d better not.”
“Anders just got engaged, didn’t he?” Hedda asked casually.
Viggo smiled. “He did.”
“His parents must be so happy.”
“I assume they are.”
Hedda sighed, lifting her coffee cup to her mouth. “All I know is that your father and I aren’t getting any younger.”
Amused looks went around the table.
“Is that some sort of hint, Mamma?” Freya teased.
“If it is,” Leif drawled humorously, “it’s not very subtle.”
Astrid grinned. “And there are only two people at this table who are currently in a position to give you what you want.”
As all eyes turned to Viggo and Scarlett, her cheeks heated up with embarrassment.
Hedda reached over and squeezed Viggo’s hand, her eyes twinkling with amused warmth. “Vi vill ha barnbarn, okej? Låt oss inte vänta lange.”
Whatever she’d said made him blush faintly and smile down at his plate.
The heat in Scarlett’s cheeks amplified, because she knew his mother’s comment had something to do with her.
Hedda and Ludvig shared a conspiratorial smile across the table.
Yeppers. Definitely some parental plotting going on.
Hedda smiled at Scarlett. “Rikard says you’re coming back this summer for a music festival. You’ll have to join us at our summer cottage on Värmdö. We go every year, and we always have such a wonderful time swimming, sailing, cycling, picking berries and just enjoying the fresh air. You must come.”
The invitation warmed Scarlett from the inside out. “I would love to join you all. Thank you, Mrs. Sandström.”
She beamed with satisfaction.
Ludvig grinned broadly. “If the Rebels win the Stanley Cup, that will make our vacation even more enjoyable.”
A chorus of agreements went around the table.
Astrid looked at Viggo. “All the players from the winning team get to spend a day with the Cup, right?”
“Ja.” He grinned.
Freya’s face lit up with excitement. “When Viggo brings home the Cup, we’ll have a big barbecue at the summer cottage and invite all of our family and friends.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Hedda enthused.
Scarlett was excited, too. About winning the Cup. About spending more time with Viggo’s family. About everything.
Rikard grinned mischievously. “All I’m looking forward to is drinking beer out of that Cup.”
Everyone laughed.
As the meal wound down, Hedda smiled around the table. “This has been absolutely delightful. But your father and Leif have to get to work, and I should head back to the hospital to check on Farfar.”
Freya soothingly rubbed her mother’s back. “You and Pappa were there past visiting hours last night. You need to get some rest.”
“I also suggest retail therapy,” Astrid piped up. “Freya and I have the day off, so let’s make the most of it and take Scarlett shopping. It’ll give us a chance to get better acquainted.”
Hedda looked tempted. “That sounds lovely, but someone should be there in case your grandfather wakes up again.”
“His sister is on her way to the hospital as we speak,” Freya pointed out. “And you know others will be stopping by throughout the day. Let’s go shopping and have some lunch. When we’re done, we can go back to the hospital and spend time with Farfar.”
When Hedda wavered, Viggo reached over and gently covered her hand with his. “They’re right, Mamma. You need to take a break and try to relax.” He winked. “As my contribution to the cause, the shopping trip’s on me.”
Freya beamed and clapped her hands together. “That settles it! We’re going shopping!”
An hour later, bundled up in their fashionable coats and scarves, the women headed out in Hedda’s Volvo with Freya behind the wheel.
Scarlett felt like a little kid as she stared excitedly out the window. She could definitely see why Stockholm was called the “Venice of the North.” With so many beautiful bridges stretched across a maze of glittering waterways, Sweden’s capital was every bit as stunning as she remembered.
Their destination was the affluent district of Östermalm. It was gorgeous with tree-lined boulevards, luxurious apartments, grand waterfront hotels and upscale boutiques.
High-end shopping wasn’t really Scarlett’s thing. She much preferred Södermalm, Stockholm’s mecca of secondhand shops and vintage emporiums. She’d thoroughly enjoyed trekking around Södermalm during her previous visit. It had a cool, eclectic, Brooklyn-esque vibe and lacked the elitism of Östermalm. But she wasn’t about to offend Viggo’s womenfolk by suggesting that they shop somewhere else. Besides, she was there to bond with them, so nothing else mattered.
She kept that in mind as they strolled down Birger Jarlsgatan, a posh street lined with high-end shops and boutiques. They spent a good deal of time inside the flagship stores for Prada, Gucci and Louis Vuitton. The Sandström women clearly loved to shop, and everything they tried on made them look flawlessly stylish. Scarlett didn’t need any new clothes, and she wasn’t too keen on spending Viggo’s money. But again, she didn’t want to be a total buzzkill, so she let his mother and sisters talk her into getting several designer outfits and shoes. At least half would be given to Nadia when she got back home.
Even though it was cold and gray, the chic streets were teeming with fashionably dressed Swedes. Black clothing seemed to be the top color of choice.
Scarlett enjoyed people watching as they wandered over to the bustling square of Stureplan, which boasted some of the country’s most expensive restaurants, bars and nightclubs. It was a popular playground for celebrities, models, successful young executives and the younger members of the Swedish Royal Family.
As they were strolling around, Svea was stopped numerous times by people raving about her Sports Illustrated cover. She smiled modestly, signed autographs and posed for pictures. She also ran into several of her friends, male and female, all of them beautiful and glamorous. She always introduced Scarlett as her brother’s “rock star” girlfriend, which was nice and embarrassing at the same time.
When they finished shopping, they wandered through Östermalms Saluhall, an amazing indoor market that sold all sorts of gourmet delicacies, seafood, pastries and chocolate. In addition to food stalls, there were several restaurants that offered traditional Swedish and international cuisine. The place was like nothing Scarlett had ever seen before, and she considered herself pretty well traveled.
Seating was limited, so they left the sprawling food hall and went to eat at a trendy café that supposedly served the best chanterelle mushroom soup.
Over lunch they talked, laughed and sipped good wine. Viggo’s mother and sisters asked Scarlett loads of questions about herself and her family. Freya and Astrid talked about their jobs and the cozy little apartment they shared in Stockholm. Svea regaled them with funny anecdotes about the modeling industry. Hedda spoke about her modest upbringing and recounted the romantic tale of how she and Viggo’s father met. She had everyone enthralled, hanging on her every word and exhaling dreamy sighs. Even though her daughters had heard the story many times before, they still learned something new.
“I want that kind of love,” Astrid fervently declared. “A love that’s timeless and powerful. A love that leaves no room for doubt that you were meant for each other. I want that for myself and I won’t settle for anything less.”
“Nor should you.” Hedda had a glowing smile on her face. “Your brother has found that kind of love with Scarlett, and I couldn’t be happier for them.”
The others earnestly agreed.
Scarlett was blushing and smiling. “I love Viggo so much. He means everything to me.”
His mother and sisters looked like they were going to cry.
Hedda reached across the table and gently squeezed her forearm. “I’m so glad you and my son found each other.”
Scarlett’s smile softened. “Me, too.”
Freya raised her wineglass, her eyes misted with tears. “To fate and timeless love.”
They clinked glasses and shared a warm laugh.
At one point during lunch, two young hipsters approached Scarlett for her autograph, gushing excitedly about how much they loved Off The Grid and couldn’t wait for their new album. It was totally unexpected and pretty freaking cool.
As Scarlett took a selfie with her fans, Viggo’s mother and sisters looked downright impressed.
“Does that happen often?” Astrid asked when the hipsters left.
“Almost never,” Scarlett admitted with a laugh. “But we have a bigger fan base in Europe, so it’s more likely to happen over here than back home.”
Svea grinned. “I’m gonna love having a rock star in the family.”
Everyone laughed and drank more wine before resuming their conversation.
The afternoon flew by. Since it was the end of February, Stockholm was starting to enjoy longer hours of daylight. So it wasn’t entirely dark outside when they left the café.
On the way to the car, Hedda received a call. After a brief conversation, she hung up and carefully put her phone in her purse.
“What is it?” Freya asked anxiously.
“Farfar is awake.” Hedda looked at Scarlett. “He’s asking to see you.”
Scarlett was surprised. “Me?”
Hedda nodded. “He’s insisting.”
Scarlett didn’t know what to say or think. As Rikard’s warning flashed through her mind, she wondered if his grandfather was summoning her to the hospital so he could insult her and tell her she wasn’t good enough for Viggo. The thought angered her.
She was tempted to call Viggo, but she didn’t want to bother him while he was running errands and hanging out with Rikard. So she just climbed into the backseat of his mother’s car and braced herself for whatever was coming.
When they arrived at the hospital, Hedda told her daughters to stay in the waiting room while she escorted Scarlett to their grandfather’s room.
He was alone, lying very still on the bed with his face turned toward the window as he stared outside. The room was filled with so many floral arrangements, it looked like a funeral parlor.
When Hedda greeted him fondly in Swedish, he turned his head to look at her, then at Scarlett. It was startling to see how strongly Viggo resembled his grandfather. Even knocking on death’s door, the old man was astonishingly handsome.
There had to be an unattractive person hiding somewhere in this family. Scarlett was sure of it.
She hovered at the door as Hedda crossed to the bed and kissed her father-in-law’s cheek. He gave her a weak smile as she straightened the pillow behind his head, speaking softly to him in Swedish.
Then she turned to smile at Scarlett. “Pappa, this is Viggo’s girlfriend, Scarlett Warner. Scarlett, this is Viggo’s grandfather Olof Sandström.”
“Hello, Mr. Sandström,” Scarlett said politely.
He just stared at her. The pallor of his skin was alarming, but his eyes were bright and keenly alert. The directness of his gaze made her even more nervous.
He spoke to Hedda in Swedish, his voice weak but steady.
She paused, a flicker of worry crossing her face. She glanced over her shoulder at Scarlett, then turned back to her father-in-law and leaned down to whisper something in his ear.
He nodded slowly, but his gaze hadn’t left Scarlett’s face.
Hedda pulled away and gave him a look of stern warning, then left his bedside and walked over to Scarlett. “He wants to speak to you alone.”
This caught Scarlett off guard. “He does?”
“Yes.” Sensing her apprehension, Hedda hastened to reassure her, “He promised to be on his best behavior. His quarrel with Viggo has nothing to do with you.”
Scarlett stared at Hedda, wishing she could tell her the truth and bring her out of the dark once and for all. But she would never betray Viggo like that.
Hedda gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be right down the hall.”
“Okay.” Scarlett watched her leave the room, then turned her attention back to Viggo’s grandfather.
He was still staring silently at her.
She returned his appraisal. So this was the monster who’d caused the man she loved so much pain. Lying there in the hospital bed, Olof Sandström didn’t look so fearsome or intimidating. He looked feeble and frail. He looked like a dying old man.
He pressed the button to raise the head of the bed. Then he lifted a weak hand and beckoned Scarlett closer.
She hesitated, then moved forward until she reached the foot of the bed.
Olof stared up at her, studying her face with those intense gray Sandström eyes.
She tucked her hands into her coat pockets and waited uncomfortably.
“Hello.” He spoke perfect English with a strong accent. “So you are Scarlett.”
She nodded. She couldn’t say it was a pleasure to meet him. It wasn’t.
“Scarlett Warner,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You are American.”
“I am.” She lifted her chin. “Is that a problem?”
She saw a flash of something in his eyes. Something that almost resembled admiration. Maybe he appreciated plucky women.
Without answering her question, he turned his head to stare out the window. “Did he tell you that he’s the descendant of a legendary Viking warrior?”
Scarlett hesitated. “He mentioned that you took a DNA test that traced your ancestry back to a Viking. But he said that’s not uncommon for Scandinavians.”
The old man looked disappointed. “Is that all he told you?”
“Pretty much. He wouldn’t really elaborate.”
Olof pressed his lips together. He was clearly unhappy.
Scarlett gave him a wry half smile. “He refuses to watch Vikings with me. Part of the reason is that he doesn’t want me swooning over the lead actor. But the other reason…During our flight here, he finally told me that the show has too many historical inaccuracies. The kind of inaccuracies that would drive you crazy. So he won’t watch the show out of respect for you.”
A ghost of a smile touched his grandfather’s face. “He told you that?”
“He did.” Though it was crazy, Scarlett found herself wanting to connect with this old man. Maybe to better understand him. To understand how and why he could hurt his own flesh and blood.
“What was your ancestor’s name?” she asked softly.
Olof turned his head to study her, as if to gauge whether she was truly interested or just patronizing him.
She smiled faintly. “My great-grandfather in Virginia traced our roots back to Angola. It was pretty fascinating to learn about my family history and genealogy. I appreciated every bit of knowledge Pop Pop shared with me, just as Viggo enjoyed your stories when he was growing up.”
Olof’s expression softened at her words. She’d won him over.
“Our ancestor’s name was Gunvald,” he said quietly. “He was one of the fiercest Swedish Vikings that ever lived. Not only was he a brave warrior, he was also a very skilled trader. His famous conquests and voyages were recorded in a journal that was preserved and passed down through generations of our family. We even possess an old battle axe that belonged to him.”
“Wow,” Scarlett whispered, intrigued in spite of herself. “You actually have artifacts?”
“Yes.” His eyes glinted with fierce pride. “We have been offered outrageous sums of money to hand over these artifacts to museums. But they belong with our family, to be passed down from generation to generation. I keep them locked away in a very safe place, but a copy of the journal is exhibited at the Swedish History Museum.”
“Wow,” Scarlett marveled. “That’s amazing.”
“Viggo never told you any of this?”
She hesitated. Then shook her head.
“Just as I feared.” There was a bitter twist to the old man’s mouth. “He went to America and forgot his heritage.”
“No,” Scarlett said sharply. “He has never forgotten who he is and where he came from. He loves this country and he’s proud to be a Swede. But talking about the past…talking about you is painful for him.” Her tone hardened. “I’m sure you can understand why.”
Olof looked away for an anguished moment, one hand gripping the edge of the hospital blanket. “You think I am a terrible man,” he whispered.
Anger tightened her chest. “What would you call a man who did the things you did to your grandson?”
His throat worked on a hard swallow. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t,” Scarlett said coldly. “And neither does he. Can you blame us?”
The old man gave her a searching look. Like he wanted something from her.
Her hands clenched inside her coat pockets. “It’s not my place to forgive you or absolve you of your sins, Mr. Sandström. I’m not the one you hurt and betrayed. If you want forgiveness—”
“I’m dying.”
Scarlett frowned, staring at him. “Did the doctor say—”
“The doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Olof stabbed a finger into his chest. “I know my time is almost up.”
Scarlett fought not to feel sorry for him. He didn’t deserve her pity or compassion.
“I heard you sing at the game,” he said quietly. “You have a beautiful voice.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
He turned his head on the pillow and stared off into the distance.
She waited for him to speak again.
“Can you do something for me?”
She gave him a wary look.
He met her gaze, his eyes imploring. “Please?”
After another moment, she acquiesced with a nod.