by Vivian Wood
A jet takes off outside as we continue down the corridor. Pippa looks around, taking it all in. “I expected that the Royal Air Force would have done more remodeling. It basically looks in here as I imagine it looked a thousand years ago. There’s absolutely zero soundproofing in here. Plus it is so…” Her mouth twists. “Well, it’s a bit dank.”
I smile at her. “That it is, Pippa. We like it like this.” I turn a corner, pulling her to a stop. There is a line of uniformed men slowly filing into the fortress’s big auditorium.
I pull her along, going with the flow as we squeeze through the double doors. The space we step into is truly awe inspiring, with a very high ceiling and smooth concrete underfoot, reminiscent of an airplane hangar. There is a ton of light in here from skylights cut into the ceiling; at the far end of the room, a stage has been assembled, a microphone stand the only decoration.
Pippa takes it all in with wide eyes. “What a space,” she breathes.
“Come on,” I say, taking her by the hand. “Let’s get a place up front. We will be accepting some award or the other on behalf of the palace, but I assume that will be after the main show.”
As I lead her forward, elbowing my way through the crowd toward the stage, a uniformed officer taps the microphone. “Good afternoon, Royal Air Force Base Karup!”
There is an immediate wave of loud applause and wolf whistles. The officer refers to a piece of paper. “Please welcome the Dusseldorf Dance Troupe!”
Loud rap music starts booming over the sound system. I manage to squeeze myself and Pippa up near the left side of the stage. Ten people parade out wearing a very bastardized, hot pants version of the same dress blues the Royal Air Force is known for. There are seven women and five men dancing. My eyebrows rise as I watch the spectacle. They separate into two rows, one moving forward and going down to their knees. They move quite deftly to the rap music, as I suppose you would expect a dance troupe to move.
I am deciding whether or not to be offended by their take on our uniforms. Everyone around me whistles and cheers, though. They don’t seem to mind.
I frown.
Pippa leans in close with a secretive grin. “What do you think?”
I shoot her a glare and lean my head closer. “I think they are very close to mocking us with those uniforms—“ I stop mid sentence, because several of the dancers shed their uniforms for bikinis or speedos. My jaw drops.
One of the dancers edges near the area of the stage where I stand. She casts her gaze around and makes eye contact with me. All the while, she gyrates and grinds, shooting me naughty expressions.
I tilt my head, trying to decide if the blonde is sexy or if I’m still offended. Pippa squeezes my arm.
I glance at her. She doesn’t look entirely pleased with me.
“What?” I ask.
Pippa leans her head in close. “At least act like you’re in public with your fiancée,” she hisses. “That is part of the deal. No making me look bad.”
I roll my eyes. “Calm down. I’m not doing anything but looking.”
Her cheeks flush. She pulls away from me and gives her head a little shake. Then she turns and starts threading her way through the crowd, heading toward the exit.
Fuck. I didn’t mean to make her mad.
I glance back at the stage, guessing that I have plenty of time before I have to be onstage. Elbowing my way through the crowd, I heave a sigh.
If I wanted to deal with stuff like this, I would’ve just proposed to the minister’s granddaughter. I push open the heavy double doors, spotting Pippa as she hurries down the hallway.
“Pippa!” I call.
She stops, turning with a frown. “What?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I say, walking over to her. It’s only when I get up close that I can smell her rose perfume and see the unshed tears in her eyes.
“You promised me that you wouldn’t sleep with anyone else while I am pretending to be your fiancée,” she whispers. “You could at least try to hide it a little better.”
I reach out for her arm, tugging her closer. “I didn’t do anything, Pippa. I was just standing there.”
A tear breaks away from one of her eyes. She wipes it away angrily. “I saw your face. Everyone could see you making eyes at that dancer.”
I shake my head. “Honestly, I wasn’t. I was trying to decide if I was offended by her uniform.” I take a deep breath, looking down into her face. “I think you might be overreacting a little bit.”
She pulls out of my grasp. “Stop telling me that. Stop telling me what I’m supposed to feel. I hate that!”
I raise my hands up, backing up half a step. “Whoa. Okay.”
She wipes at her face again, looking miserable. “You asked me to be your fake fiancée. Which is a lot. It’s fine, but… a lot to ask another person. And all I asked in exchange is that you don’t make a fool out of me by fooling around behind my back.” She grows tearful. “It’s not a lot to ask, Lars.”
I don’t know what else to do, so I enfold her in a hug. “I know, Pippa. I know.” I murmur into her hair. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was…” I pause. “Whatever you thought was going on. I assure you, there is no reason to feel jealous.”
She looks up at me, her face contorting. “I’m not jealous. I’m just… I’m trying to tell you how other people perceive you!”
I narrow my eyes on her face. I could challenge her, but I want to calm her down. And that isn’t the way, knowing Pippa as I do.
She is the only person in my entire life that demands so much of me and doesn’t treat me as if I am special; but at the same time, she doesn’t hold herself apart from me, either.
There’s no way I’m about to risk that over something so small and dumb.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Really, I am.”
She hangs her head with a sigh. “Okay.”
My mouth twists. “You know that I will eventually have to go back to living my life though, right? You can’t be all up in arms about me making eye contact with other girls forever.”
She shoots me a glare. “I know that, thank you. I’m just trying to preserve some small amount of dignity. In two months, you can eye fuck anyone else that you want.”
I repress an eye roll. “Fine. We’ll deal with that when we get to it. For now, can we go back in the auditorium?”
She sniffs. “Fine.”
A wave a hand toward the doors. “Fine. Lead the way.”
As I follow her though, I can’t help but turn the whole situation over and over again in my mind.
15
Pippa
“Okay. Wait here for just a second. Don’t look!” Lars says.
I keep my eyes covered and shiver against the cold air. Lars has brought me somewhere an hour and a half north of Copenhagen, saying we need a break from everything. I listen as his boots crunch across the snowy ground.
“Where the hell are we?” I ask.
“You’ll know in about thirty seconds,” he says with a laugh.
Wrinkling my nose, I kick at the ground beneath my feet. I can tell it’s been freshly shoveled, but I don’t dare peek out from behind my hands just yet.
I hear something scraping the ground. Lars comes back and leads me forward a few steps, standing right behind me.
“Okay. You can look.”
I drop my hands and see an enormous modern cabin before us, the door open wide, the heat escaping it in clouds. I look at Lars, extremely surprised.
“Where are we?” I ask again.
He grins and grabs my hand, leading me up the front steps and into the foyer. “I rented us a cabin for the next few days. It’s sort of my way of saying I’m sorry for dragging you to three days of royal events.”
I look around the cabin, if it can even be called that. One of the walls is made entirely of glass. Just outside, the landscape drops dramatically away, making for a breathtakingly snowy vista.
A living room is set up immediately in front of me, al
l the cozy white furniture arranged around a wrought iron fireplace with a chimney going up to the ceiling. The kitchen gleams from across the space, all dark stone and stainless appliances. Between the two is a charming cedar table set for six.
“Well?” Lars prompts me. “What do you think?”
I turn to him with a slow smile. I point out the skis hanging on the wall in the entryway. “It’s amazing. But why here? As far as I know, we’ve never skied or done anything remotely woodsy.”
He shrugs, closing the door behind him. “Well, maybe it’s time we tried. Hmm?” He shoves him dark hair back off of his forehead. “I think I’ve put us in a high pressure situation. So this is me trying to release some steam that has been building up.”
My lips quirk. “Ah. You’re talking about how I lost my cool at the Air Base Karup, I’m guessing.”
He shrugs. “I mentioned to Erik that we needed a break. He suggested a cabin in this area. Now here we are.”
I turn around, giving him a soft hug. “Thank you. It’s very thoughtful. Maybe I could use a break, now that you mention it.”
The hug lingers for a second too long before he steps back, clearing his throat. “Want to try skiing? Or better yet, we can snowboard.”
I laugh. “Sure. Let me just change into more layers. Then we’ll try whichever you want.” I pause, tilting my head. “As long as I make myself clear. I think that too much exercise is for people who secretly hate themselves.”
He grins. “Come on, get dressed.”
The next few hours are fun, if not productive. Lars trying to snowboard and failing. Me trying to ski and ending up on my ass, over and over. Both of us laughing as we hold hands and sled down the huge hill behind our house on a big double raft.
By the time the sun starts to dip behind the trees, I’m completely done for. I wave a hand, stuck in a snow drift with my skis askew.
“I give up!” I laugh. “I am not any better at skiing than I was a few hours ago.”
Lars frees himself from his snowboard, which he’s actually annoying okay at. He walks over and grabs my hands, helping me up.
“Ja, I’m ready to call it a day. I’m also so hungry at this point that I could eat a bear.”
I follow him to the cabin, my eyes dropping to the spot on his ass where he’s landed enough times to make his pants damp. “Mm,” is all I have to add to the conversation.
We head inside the cabin, shedding our clothing before the snow that clings to it melts. I head into my bedroom, just upstairs. Digging fresh clothing out of my suitcase, I change into a loose, flowy white dress.
I guess I don’t fully understand that our bedrooms are connected by a bathroom. Because I step into the bathroom, my mind on my hair. And I see Lars with no shirt on, just buttoning a pair of dark, low slung jeans.
He turns around and catches me looking at him. He smirks as my cheeks grow red.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he jokes. “By all means, little witch. Take all the time you want. Stare away.”
I shoot him a glare. “Ha ha.” I clear my throat and drag my gaze to the big mirror in the shared bathroom. He pulls a white tee shirt on as I try to futz with my halo of insane curls. I try not to notice that he fills up almost the entire doorway with his sheer height.
Lars leans in the doorway, his biceps gently bunching as he crosses his arms. I won’t let myself notice.
Just because he’s unspeakably hot and I have wanted him forever doesn’t change anything at all. First, I am a fucking liar. I have been since the week we met.
And there is the fact that our friendship is more important than anything else. We can’t forget that, can we?
“What are you thinking about?” he wonders.
I blush, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Ja, I’m not answering that one.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask instead.
He smiles slowly, pushing off the doorway. “The oven is heating up for a frozen pizza. I also think there is a salad.”
I turn. “I’m starving. Let’s go raid the fridge while we wait.”
We eat pizza and talk about inane things for the next hour. Up here, in his jeans and tee shirt, Lars is imperceptibly more laid back. His smiles are more frequent, his jokes are mostly terrible. There is none of the posturing and bravado that usually follows him around. He’s just… happier.
I realize that he probably needed a break from everything almost as much as I did. That thought comforts me a little bit.
Lars eventually opens a bottle of wine and pours us each a glass. I swirl the contents of my glass gently, looking at him as he settles on the couch. He quirks an eyebrow at me.
My lips quirk. “Yes?”
He spreads out on the couch and shrugs. “Nothing.”
I narrow my eyes. “I know you too well for that. What is it?”
He takes his time sipping his wine before he answers. “I was just wondering what it would be like if we lived very different lives.”
I tilt my head. “In an alternate universe? We wouldn’t know each other, probably.” “Maybe. But I was more thinking of a world where we knew each other. I wonder what would have happened if we had just met in our twenties.”
My brows rise. “Oh?”
“Ja. Imagine if we had not been largely ignored by our respective families growing up. If we were both just normal, well adjusted adults when we met.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I can’t picture it, honestly. We wouldn’t have any history.”
He chuckles a little. “No. I wonder if we wouldn’t just date each other.”
My heartbeat instantly speeds up. I lick my lips. “You think we would be an item?”
He shrugs a shoulder, picking up my feet and putting them in his lap. I bury my toes under his thigh, enjoying his warmth. He shoots me a secretive smile.
“Maybe. I mean, you are definitely not my type. But maybe in this alternate world, you would be.”
Oh god. I blush a little bit.
“I’ve seen your blonde supermodels come and go like a revolving door,” I answer crisply. “I’m really not interested in being your type, I think.”
That’s a lie. It feels false even as I say it.
He finishes his glass of wine and sets it aside, rubbing one of my bare feet with both of his thumbs. He goes right to a spot that feels so good, digging into the pad of my foot.
“Oh, little witch,” he sighs. “There is no denying that we have both found each other attractive.”
My brow descends. “Ja. It’s all the other pieces about you that I find problematic. For instance, the fact that you’ve slept with half the pretty, blonde young girls in the city.”
He smirks. “What if I was well-behaved? Hmm? Would that make you happy?”
One corner of my mouth bends downward. “Hypothetically?”
He pins with his sapphire gaze. “I don’t know, Pippa. Do you want us to be discussing things hypothetically?”
No.
God, the way he is looking at me just now. The way he is smirking at me. The way he touches my feet.
My hormones want him to stop talking and kiss me. Hell, they wouldn’t mind if I jumped him.
I lick my lips again, taking in the expression on his face. “Are you actually suggesting that we sleep together, Lars?”
He pauses, pushing his cheek out with his tongue. “I could be. I mean, you think I’m hot. I think you’re hot. We could just… take it to the next level.”
I frown. While I obviously want him more than anything, I don’t want to destroy what we already have.
“I… I don’t know, Lars. We are best friends. And to me, that is more important than some little fling.”
He bites his lower lip. “So we’ll just… keep it casual.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Lars narrows his eyes on my face. “Kiss me.”
I shoot him a look. “What?”
“Kiss me,” he says, moving closer. “Just one
time. Kiss me for real. And then if you still feel like it’s a risk to our friendship…” He reaches up to my face, brushing back a curl. “Then we can pretend it never happened.”
I swallow. My eyes are on his, trying to gauge how serious he is. I suck in sips of air and notice how his eyes slip down to my neckline. My nipples pebble at the very thought of his lips touching my overheated skin.
God, my heartbeat is so loud in my own ears that I am afraid he will hear it.
He puts my feet down, moving so he’s only a few inches from my face. He licks his lower lip, reaching out slowly to cup my jaw with his elegant fingers.
“Pippa?” he murmurs.
I can barely breathe. “Yes, Lars?”
He brings his face closer, feathering a kiss over the corner of my mouth. I open my mouth, sighing silently. I can feel a storm gathering inside me.
Lars kisses my cheek, grazes his lips over my earlobe. “All you have to say is yes,” he whispers.
A dam breaks in me. I move my head, catching his lips with my own. He is surprised for a split second. Then he takes control of the kiss, cupping my jaw and teasing my lips apart.
He’s sweet and salty and earthy, his tongue working against mine. My hands come up to grab his shirt, forming fists as I drag him closer.
He pulls back and nips at my lower lip. I can’t help it. I let out a little moan.
“Is that a yes, little witch?” he whispers.
I nod, struggling to draw a breath. “Yes.” He moves in to kiss me again, but I pull back.
“There have to be rules,” I say, looking in his eyes. “To protect us both.”
He looks puzzled. “Like what?”
I draw in a long breath. “We are friends first. Okay? We just… we don’t do anything that would hurt that.” I reach out, grabbing his hand and pulling it over my heart. “Promise me.”
He frowns. “Of course, Pippa.”
I lick my lips. “Okay. There are probably more rules—“
He cuts me off with a kiss so dominating that all thoughts of rules are driven from my mind. My hand fists in his shirt. He moves effortlessly to scoop me up off the couch, not breaking the kiss.
