“You honestly don’t know why you’re here?” he asks as he stares down at me.

My heart starts to thump harder in my chest and I shift uncomfortably on the bench. “No,” I say quietly, wishing now I had the courage to not agree to any of this until I had talked to my father. I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into by coming here, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out.

He presses his lips together, raising his brows as if to say, oh boy, here we go.

“Right, well. I’m going to be straight with you. More so than I think my family would like, but since we’re both involved in this, I think honesty is the only thing we’ve got right now.”

“Okay…” Jesus, what is it?

“I’ll start by telling you what my father told your father.” He runs his hand through his hair and starts to shift his weight from one foot to the other.

“Why don’t you sit down?” I tell him.

He shakes his head and I know I shouldn’t take any offense to the fact that he won’t sit next to me, but I kind of do. Do I smell? I fight the urge to take a whiff.

“The reason you are here, Princess Isabella of Liechtenstein,” he goes on, “is that my father told your father that I was very interested in meeting you.”

Huh? Come again?

“You were interested in meeting me?”

He shrugs with one shoulder.

“But that’s not true, is it?” I continue, still confused.

His jaw tenses as he thinks that over and for once he looks away. “It’s not about…it doesn’t matter. That’s what he told him. And so, you were invited here for dinner like this was a set-up, a blind date of sorts.”

I can only stare at him. The Prince of Norway is telling me that the reason I’m here is because of him, that he wanted to take me on a date?

“My father’s butler never mentioned that,” I manage to say after a beat.

“Which surprises me,” he says, “or maybe it’s that he wanted you to come, and if you’d known the truth, you would have said no.” He pauses, giving me a furtive glance. “Would you have?”

Hell. I don’t have an answer to that. I suppose if my father had told me the truth and expressed any importance to it, I still would have come here, to please him and make him happy.

I shrug. “Sure. I mean, this is just a dinner, that’s all. It would have been a…new experience.”

“You don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings,” he tells me. “I don’t have that many to begin with.”

“I wouldn’t be proud of that.”

“I’m not proud. Just honest.”

“Okay, fine. Are you asking if I would have wanted to go on a dinner date with you? Well, no. You’re not really my type.”

“And you’re not my type either,” he says quickly, like he’s throwing what I said back in my face.

I frown, not understanding. “If I’m not your type, then why did you invite me here for dinner?”

“Because I had to. I picked you.”

I blink slowly. “Picked me for what?”

“Marriage.”

Am I hearing this right?

My lips move to make words but no sounds come out. Finally, I manage a breathless, “What?”

“I know,” he says with a deep sigh, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his feet. “It’s going to take you a lot of time to come to grips with it. Fuck knows I still am. I mean, this is absolutely surreal to say the least, not to mention ridiculous, unfair and, well, cruel, but it is what it is.”

None of what he’s saying is making any sense at all. Am I being filmed? Is this a joke? I start looking around for cameras and of course there are a million of them on the palace walls and lampposts for security reasons.

“So your father doesn’t know the whole truth,” he goes on. “My father left that part out. But the fact is that I need to get married and I’m trying to figure out if it should be you. You were my first pick of the lot.”

“First pick of the lot?” I repeat. “Magnus, Your Highness, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And to be honest, it’s starting to scare me a little.”

He exhales loudly and runs his hands down his face. “I can’t believe these are the words that are coming out of my mouth,” he mumbles. He then looks up at me, hair wild, eyes brimming with intensity. “In order for me to inherit the throne and earn back my family’s good graces in the public eye, I have to get married. I have to get married soon and to someone who would be a good fit, someone of the right bloodline, someone who would make our crazy fucking family look good. This is the last thing I want, but I’m willing to do it for the sake of the throne, for my father, for the country. And the only way I can do it is if you agree to it.”

I stare at him for a few moments until I burst out laughing. “You have got to be kidding me!”

“I’ve been wanting to make you laugh tonight but not like this,” he says quietly. He clears this throat. “I’m not kidding. It’s not a joke.”

If it’s not a joke, then this man is clearly crazy. “I know you’re into those high-risk sports but I question if you hit your head one too many times. You’re supposed to wear a helmet for a reason.”

“Look, I know this is insane—”

“Insane?” I close my eyes, trying to compose my thoughts. “It’s beyond insane. This is…ludicrous.” Shaking my head, I look at him, trying desperately to see the reasoning in all of this. “You’re being forced into marrying someone against your will?”

“I’m not being forced,” he says sternly. “I have a choice. I’m choosing to do this.”

“What about marrying for love? You don’t even know me. You don’t even like me.”

“I never said I don’t like you,” he says quickly. “I do. I think you’re, uh, you have great eyebrows.”

“Eyebrows!?”

“And no, I don’t know you but perhaps when it comes down to it, we’ll be a good match.”

I stand up, my skin feeling tight and agitated, my head swimming as it tries to grapple with this. “Well, since I know the throne is more important to you than love, I’ll let you know that when I plan to marry, I plan to do it for love.”

His eyes narrow, his gaze so sharp that it makes me feel breathless. “The throne isn’t more important than love is. I’m doing this because I love my family, my father.” I watch his throat as he swallows hard, taking in a deep breath. “This is what my father wishes for me, and I’m the one who fucked up bigtime. I don’t have to tell you what I’m trying to make up for here.”

The sex tape, no doubt.

He continues, his tone becoming soft as he looks away, staring off into nothing. “Look, this is just between you and me, but my father isn’t doing well, and all this extra stress I’ve put the family under isn’t helping. I’m supposed to make a public apology to the prime minister in a few days, on camera, and that will help but it won’t put him at ease. I just don’t know what else to do and this seems like the only way out, and the only way I can help him. He deserves this.” He pauses. “I need to do this.”

I feel a pang of sympathy for him but it in no way changes anything. “I’m sorry that you’ve found yourself in this hole, and I’m sure you’re charming and resourceful enough to climb your way out, but I’m not your answer. Marrying me isn’t a rope…unless it’s a rope around both our necks.”

“That’s fucking morbid,” he says, giving me an odd look.

I stand up straighter. “I’m not getting married to you, Your Highness. Not for love, not for your debt, not for your country. I will gladly sacrifice myself for things I care about, but I don’t care about you. You’re a stranger to me and I’m a stranger to you, and there’s no way that’s going to change. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go back to your list and find another woman to take my place.”

He nods, chewing on his lip. His hair falls across his face, obscuring his eyes. “All right. I respect that. I didn’t think you were cut out for this sort of life anyway. You’re too soft and dainty for the public eye.”

“Excuse me?” I ask him, feeling a rush of hot blood roll through me. “Soft and dainty?”

He brushes his hair from his eyes as he takes me in. “That’s what I said. You’ve lived a life of anonymity with no one expecting anything of you, it seems. Not even your father. Why would you trade in the life of an average student for one of prestige and power? It makes no sense at all.”

Is he trying to do reverse psychology on me?

“I’m not playing this game,” I tell him.

“There are no games.”

“I highly doubt that with you.” I cross my arms. “And please, indulge me for a moment. You would be completely okay with being married to a stranger? You’d be okay with marriage in general? You do know you have a horrible reputation amongst women, don’t you?”

He glares at me. “I wouldn’t call it horrible.”

“You’re a manwhore, playboy, womanizer.” I tick off my fingers. “Wannabe Casanova.”

“Wannabe? I think I’ve fully achieved Casanova status at this point.”

“You’re proud of it, too. So how on earth do you expect to settle down with someone and marry them? You do know what marriage vows are, don’t you?”

“This might be different,” he says.

“You mean you would break those vows?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you had to?”

I dismiss him with a wave of my hand. “I don’t even know why I’m discussing this with you. Of course you’d be okay with a lifetime full of illicit affairs as long as your public image remains pure.”

“There are a lot of marriages like that, more than you’d think, and it would be naïve of you to think otherwise.”

“Then maybe I am naïve and maybe I’m a bit of a romantic. And maybe I have morals and I take things like marriage seriously, which you obviously don’t since you don’t seem to take anything seriously. You think this world is your giant playground.”

He sucks in a breath as if I’ve seriously insulted him. The glint in his eyes turns mean. “You don’t know me. I take things that matter to me seriously and this matters to me. This is serious. And it would help if you took it seriously too.”

I press my hand to my chest. “I am taking it seriously. I think this is seriously messed up and that I’m seriously not interested in getting involved in a sham marriage with you.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” He almost looks hurt and I realize I’ve been a little harsh with him. It seems like that’s the only way to get through to him. “Sorry. I’m sorry you have to be put in this position, and honestly, I do wish you the best of luck and happiness. But after this dinner, I have no plans to ever see you again.”

He nods, exhaling through his nose. “Man. I’m starting to feel sorry for every girl I’ve told that to.”

I roll my eyes and start to walk away. Unbelievable.

Just then the French doors open and the Queen steps out, holding up the hem of her dress so she doesn’t trod on it, a cell phone in her other hand.

“Princess Isabella,” the Queen says in a hush, holding the phone out for me. “It’s your father.”

“Is everything all right?” I ask, taking the phone from her.

She nods, a strange look in her eyes as she looks from me to Magnus. “He’s fine. He wishes to speak to you about our arrangement.”

My brows raise and I look back at Magnus in surprise. Arrangement? There is no arrangement.

I put the phone to my ear, completely expecting to hear Schnell’s voice. “Hello?”

“Isabella,” my father says in his thick German accent. “How are you?”

Oh my god. It’s actually my father.

“Father,” I say, feeling both breathless and giddy, like just hearing his voice is putting everything right again in my world. “I’m so happy to hear from you.” I glance at Magnus and notice him staring at me. I need to tone it down a bit. “Why are you calling?”

“I was just having a discussion with King Anders about you.”

“Oh, yes,” I say, my voice going higher. “What about?”

I mean, did he call the King? Did the King call my father? Have they always talked on the phone and I just didn’t know about it? Who else does my father know on a calling your cell phone basis?

“I’m sure you know what about, Isabella,” he says to me. “And I must say how thrilled I am at your decision.”

Oh god. Oh no.

“What decision?” I ask cautiously.

“To marry Prince Magnus.”

My mouth drops open. “I, uh…what did the King say?”

I glance wildly at the Queen hoping for some sort of clue but she’s a hard nut to crack and her face remains impassive except for the quick glances she keeps throwing at Magnus.

“Well, when he first called me yesterday he said that Prince Magnus was interested in getting to know you. I had hopes, of course, as any good father would, that this could lead to something grand and so I made sure you went to Oslo right away. But now that I’ve been talking to him, he said that you both hit it off and it looks like it will be a royal match. He did just propose right now, didn’t he? That’s what the King said. He took you out to the garden and popped the question.”

I slowly look over at Magnus and I can see that he has absolutely no idea what my father could be saying and he certainly didn’t so much as pop the question as to suggest it, like he was deciding what TV show we should watch tonight.

Oh, I could bloody well kill the King of Norway right now.

“Hopefully you said yes,” my father says, his voice going lower in that same disapproving way he’d use when I was younger. Every time he thought poorly of me he’d use that voice. “Oh, you only got a B on your math test? You did study, didn’t you?”

I don’t like to use the F-word without warrant but…

FUCK.

Tell him you said no. Tell him there was no proposal. Tell him the King was wrongly informed. Tell him…

“I know your mother would be so proud of you,” he says, “just as I am. This is everything we could have wished for you. When I sent you off to England I had hopes that you would meet someone right for you. Had hopes you would aim high and marry someone great, someone worthy in title and stature. And now you are. Now you’re living out your mother’s dream for you.”

Oh fuck. FUCK.

“Plus, I know you benefit as well,” he adds. “Now you’ll have a position of power. You’ll have that voice you’ve always wanted. You’ll have the money and means to make a difference. Isn’t that what you told me a few years ago, your plans for after university? I always thought it was very noble and altruistic of you, albeit a futile path. But now, now you can actually make a difference. That must feel good.”

Shit. He just keeps talking. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so much, nor have I heard him sound so happy, and so damn…proud of me. Not only that, but he actually has a point. He’s appealing to my sacrificial side. The side of me that could actually go through with this in order to get my lifelong dream.

It makes me sick.

Because this is all a lie.

And I have to burst his bubble.

I have to disappoint him and everyone else who is staring at me right now.

“Isabella?” my father asks. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” I say softly, then clear my throat as if that will give me resolve. “Yes, I’m here. It’s just a lot to process.”

“I understand,” he says. “Just know that you’ve made the right choice.”

Tell him. Tell him now.

“I’m so proud of you, darling,” he adds.

Aaaaaand I’m dying.

Okay. Okay, so maybe I don’t have to correct him now. Maybe I’ll just correct him later. Like tomorrow. Or in a few days. Let him think that we’re getting married and then I’ll tell him the truth. I just don’t want to spoil the moment.

By pretending to go all in, it feels like the easier way out.

“Thank you,” I tell him, my tongue feeling sluggish as I talk. “I should probably get back to the dinner party.”

“Of course, dear. I will call you in a couple of days to check up on you.”

“Okay.” I pause, wondering if I should tell him I love him even though sometimes in the past it’s gone unanswered.

“Take care,” he says and hangs up, and that answers that.

I stare at the phone in my hand and then slowly pass it over to the Queen, reluctant to meet her probing eyes.

“Well?” she asks. “What did he have to say? Anders was talking to him for quite a bit in the other room, and I never heard what they were discussing.”

I think I’m going to faint. I sway a bit on my feet and suddenly Magnus is at my side, his arm going around my waist and holding me up.

“Are you okay?” he asks, peering down at me.

I nod. “I think I had too much champagne and excitement,” I manage to say. I try to straighten myself so that my body isn’t pressed back against his massive chest. The man is built like a boulder.

The man? You mean your fiancé.

No. No brain, don’t you even start.

He leads me back inside and through my weary gaze I see the King looking at me with a sheepish expression on his face, like he’s just gotten busted for lying.

Which he has.

Bigtime.

I can’t believe he did that!

But more than that, I can’t believe I didn’t have the nerve to stand up to my father and tell him the truth. I just made everything a million times worse by lying because I’m eventually going to have to burst his bubble.

I’ll have to make him disappointed in me once again.

It’s either that or I actually get married to Magnus.

Who actually hasn’t proposed, mind you.

I sigh loudly as Jane approaches me, her steps wobbly, champagne in her hand. “Do you want something to drink?” she asks and her eyes go to Magnus standing right behind me, his hand still at my lower back. Suddenly it’s all I can focus on. The warmth of his large, flat palm, the strength in the way he presses against me. The fact that he’s still here shows concern that I didn’t peg him to have.

But as much as I need to talk to Jane and fill her in on what the hell is going on, this is about me and Magnus and he needs to know more than anyone.

“I think I’ve had too much champagne,” I tell her and then glance up at Magnus over my shoulder. “Perhaps Magnus could show me to my room.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly but he just nods. “Of course I can.” He looks over at his mother. “Where is she sleeping?”

“Take her to the blue room beside Mari’s,” the Queen says. “Her bag is already there.”

I can tell there are a million glances and silent messages being passed between everyone here, and not everyone is thinking the same thing. I’m pretty sure at this point only the King and I know what’s going on.

“I am so sorry to bow out of the evening early,” I tell them, trying to give them a warm and genuine smile that doesn’t at all show the turmoil that’s rolling inside of me.

“We are so delighted you were able to come,” the Queen says.

“Very much so,” the King says delicately.

Mari just nods. “We will see you in the morning.”

Jane raises her glass of champagne. “Cheers, Princess.”

Magnus guides me out of the parlor room and into the hall.

“Elevators are right over here,” he says as we walk along the tile floor. “Your room will be on the third floor. That’s pretty much the real ‘house’ of this whole place.”

He presses the button for the elevator and I blurt out, “And if we were to be married, would we be staying here or have a palace of our own?”

He frowns. “You’re rather confusing, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“And your family is bloody insane, has anyone ever told you that?”

The elevator doors ding open as if on cue. He gestures with his arm. “After you.” Then he steps inside, standing beside me. “And yes, I’ve been told that. A lot of people blame my mother for being a commoner and introducing her wild blood and ways into the family, but to be honest with you, she’s the sane one here.”

“I can tell. She’s the one who has no idea what’s going on and I know once the truth comes out, she’s going to be furious with your father.”

The elevator doors open. We step out into the hall but don’t move.

“What did my father do?” he asks.

I tilt my head, really examining him. Aside from being tall and burly and, well, fidgety, he seems to come by his confusion honestly.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you in private.”

“So getting me to escort you to your room wasn’t an invitation?”

“Are you kidding me?” I shake my head. “No. Why does everything have to do with sex when it comes to you?”

He shrugs, grins. It’s charming and it shouldn’t be. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just used to it. Bad habits, Your Highness.”

“Well, I guess you can chalk me up to being one of your bad habits,” I say with a sigh as I look up and down the halls. The palace is opulent, but up here in the residential wing, things are a lot more subdued. No more marble statues, just rustic paintings instead. It’s almost homey.

“What does that mean?”

“How about you show me to my room first?”

He squints at me. “I swear you’re a different person from the one at the start of dinner. Maybe even two seconds ago.”

I choke on a laugh. “No kidding. The person I was at the start of dinner had no bloody idea what the hell she was getting herself into. Now I do.”

“Your British slang is very cute.”

“Get stuffed.”

“There you go again,” he says but starts off walking down the hall, gesturing with a nod of his head for me to follow him.

He opens the door to one of the rooms, and I step inside as he flicks the lights on. It’s smaller than I thought and maybe a bit drafty, but the bed looks warm, with loads of wool blankets piled on top. My little suitcase is sitting on an ottoman.

I turn around to look at him, feeling more indignant than nervous now.

“So, if you didn’t invite me up here for nefarious purposes, what did you invite me here for?” he asks.

I take in a deep breath. I feel like this evening has just been a series of very deep breaths. “That was my father on the phone.”

“Yes, I figured that.”

“Your father and he had a long chat while we were out in the garden.”

He purses his lips. “Okay…”

“Your father,” I continue, “told my father that you were proposing to me.”

Magnus stares at me for a second, eyes wide as it very slowly sinks into his thick skull. “But…I wasn’t. I mean, I was telling you the deal, the truth and all that, but…oh fucking hell. Do they think…does your father think this is actually a real official thing?”

He’s starting to freak out. It makes me feel good for a nanosecond to know that this wasn’t what he expected either.

“Yes. Your father said you were proposing and that’s why I was invited here, and he said we were a good match. My father automatically assumed I had said yes, because for crying out loud, why would I ever say no to anyone?”

Okay, so that last outburst is more about me than it is about him, but still.

“And you didn’t tell him otherwise?”

“This isn’t about me, okay?”

He looks out into the hall and then shuts the door behind him so it’s just the both of us in this room. “It kind of is. First you shoot me down, repeatedly, like you’re playing Duck Hunt and running out of quarters—”

“You’re twenty-eight! Why are you referencing things that are old? And anyway, I never shot you down because you never asked me anything.”

“I told you the plan.”

“Yes, in some round about half-assed way.”

“Hey, I was putting my full ass into it,” he says snidely. “You’re forgetting the big picture here, and that is…why the hell didn’t you tell him that my father was being premature and talking out of line?”

“You don’t know my father,” I tell him. “Or our relationship. To say it’s strained is putting it mildly, and anyway I didn’t exactly want to admit that your father, the King of Norway, is a big fat liar!”

“But now we have to get married!” he cries out.

“This was your idea!”

“This was my parents’ idea,” he counters, shaking his finger in my face. “And now it’s real. Jesus. I’m not ready for this.”

“You’re insane,” I mumble. “And it doesn’t matter. I’ll tell my father the truth in a few days. I just didn’t want to tonight. He sounded so happy and, well, you told me that this was all worth it to make your father happy, right?”

He seems to think that over before he nods with a heavy sigh. “Yeah.”

“And it’s the same for me. Only I don’t have the relationship you have. I don’t have one with him at all. And I wasn’t about to sever the little contact we just had because of some technicality.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “You make it sound like it’s wording on a legal document.”

“If we’re not careful, that’s what it’s going to be. Only the legal document will be a marriage certificate.”

“I need to talk to my father,” he says, turning around and opening the door.

“And tell him what?”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. “I don’t know. Just that he’s put you in a very awkward position.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m fine. It’s no different than before, I had just hoped or assumed that when I told you the truth about all of this that you would decide to do it based on your own merit and not anyone else’s lies. I can have my father call yours in the morning and explain that everything has been a big mistake.”

Ugh. That hurts my heart. Not just in terms of my own father being disappointed, but Magnus’ too. He actually cares for his father and vice versa. That might be a blow neither can handle at a time like this.

“No,” I tell him. “Let me just think about it for a few days and get back to you. Let it go with your father. I just need time to process everything and figure out the right thing to do.”

“But isn’t the right thing to do to call it off?” he says. “I mean, in your mind.”

God, I’m tired. Exhausted to every last brain cell and weary to the bone. And yet there’s something blocking me from agreeing to what he’s just said.

Maybe it was the promise of respect.

Of power.

Of a voice to make change in ways I’d never dreamed of.

I only nod to Magnus. “What I really need right now is sleep. Perhaps I’ll see you in the morning.”

His dark brows knit together. “I can’t believe you might actually give this a chance.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” I tell him.

He nods. “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness.”

He shuts the door, locking me in with my thoughts.