Royal Fake Fiancé (Dirty Royals Book 4)

by Vivian Wood

  “Yeah, what does she like?” Stellan adds.

  “Hmm”, I say thoughtfully. “A lot of things, obviously.”

  “Duh,” Erik says. “Name some stuff, Get the juices flowing. There are no bad ideas.”

  I purse my lips. “She likes dressing up and being elegant. She loves parties. She loves people. She likes…” I chuckle. “Pippa loves getting me to dance.”

  Stellan lifts a brow. “It sounds like you need to throw a huge party, with everyone she knows in attendance.”

  A light bulb goes off for me. “Actually…” I glance at both of them with a sly expression on my face, biting my lip. “I think I have the perfect idea. I will just need a shit ton of help…”

  37

  Pippa

  It takes the better part of two whole days for Margot and Nika to convince me to return to Copenhagen. When we are about to leave, Margot pulls me aside and shows me a garment bag. My eyebrows lift a little as I unzip the bag.

  Inside is the most gorgeous dress I have probably ever seen. It is made of sheer lace with light pink and purple splashes all over it and an elegant train that trails behind it.

  I look up at Margot, arching my brow. “What is this?”

  She gives me a secretive smile. “Just put it on. I'll see you out in the car.”

  I change into the dress and pin my hair up, wondering what exactly Margot has planned. I don't know and that fact gives me a lot of anxiety.

  The ride to Copenhagen is practically silent. Margot and Nika are on their phones, probably checking in on all the things that they have willingly missed in order to talk some sense into me. I bite my lip and look out the window, thinking about how I will show up at Lars’s house, apologetic that I ran away.

  Will that be enough for him to take me back? That's the real question.

  When we get into downtown Copenhagen, we don't go to either the palace or Lars's apartment. Instead, we pull up beside a row of shops on a busy street in downtown Copenhagen, not far from the palace. I arch my brow at Margot. She's quick to reassure me.

  “I thought that you could do you with a little bit of shopping before your big reunion with Lars. You know, let off some steam, get your ducks in a row.”

  I squint at her. “Are you sure I shouldn't just go straight to wherever Lars is?”

  Nika opens the car door, ready to get out. “This sounds fine. Let's do it. We can go back to the mission at hand once we are through.”

  “Yeah, it will be half an hour or an hour at most. Besides, this bakery over here has these éclairs that I am currently fetishizing.” Margot pulls a face. “Do it for my poor, pregnant self.”

  My lips quirk but I give in fairly easily. “All right. I mean, I do love to shop…”

  We slide out of the back of the SUV, shielding our faces against the bright morning light. I see the pastry shop that Margot mentioned. Looking across the street, I start heading there.

  As I cross the street, there is a young woman dressed as a ballet dancer, dancing for the public. My gaze snags on her, on her delicate light pink dress and elegant form. Suddenly music starts playing. The strains of the cures Friday I'm in love start to rise into the air. I look around but don't see where the music is coming from. It's loud enough that it's obviously part of the dancer’s performance, as she doesn't bat an eyelash at the loud sound.

  She waves her hand at the audience and five people emerge from the crowd, all lining up equally distant from the ballerina. They are all wearing full-face white masks, making me frown as I study them.

  They all start to dance, their moves smooth and organized, sort of a hip-hop style. Instantly there are plenty of crowd members, curious about the music and what other people are looking at. The ballerina joins the line of dancers, dancing along with the same moves.

  I can't help but smile. Nika and Margot come stand by me, urging me forward a few steps to get closer to the performers. I study their faces, but I can't see much other than their blank white masks.

  Margot leans in with a whisper. “They're quite good, aren't they?”

  I don't take my eyes off the dancers, but I whisper back to her. “They are good. I don't know about the bloke at the end, he seems like he might not be a professional dancer like the rest of them. But they're all pretty decent.”

  The ballerina gestures to the crowd again and six more people join them, white masks and street clothes on. My eye keeps wandering down to the guy at the end, who is honestly trying to do all the moves but seems to be partially failing.

  Nika grasps my elbow, smiling at the dancers. “Doesn't this just lift your spirits?”

  I give her a rueful smile. “It does, actually. Do you think that these dancers work on an hourly basis? And I just hire them to come and cheer me up whenever I'm feeling blue?”

  Margot shushes me unexpectedly, nodding toward the ballerina. The ballerina heads toward us, a beatific smile on her face. Margot squeezes my forearm, earning a look from me. She has tears in her eyes and I wonder if being pregnant has made her a little bit more prone to cry or if she knows something that I don't.

  The ballerina dances up to us, bowing elegantly and looking me straight in the eyes. She doesn't say anything, but she does hold out a hand. My cheeks burn bright red as I accept the invitation to dance. She pulls me toward the center of the wide circle of people.

  The music rises, reaching a crescendo. The dancers all move into a triangle position and I dance along beside them despite not knowing the steps at all. All the dancers but one suddenly kneel.

  One of the dancers is left standing, the awkward dancer. That one person walks over to me, reaching out and taking my hand.

  Then he takes a knee, pushing his white mask up. My eyes widen as I realize that Lars is kneeling before me, looking more nervous than I think I've ever seen him. He pulls out a ring box.

  “Oh god,” I gasp. “Lars, you planned all of this?”

  My hands fly to my mouth, my heart beats so loud that I almost can't hear anything else. He cracks the box open and takes my hand.

  Lars has to almost shout over the sound of the music, but he makes himself known. “Pippa, I did this for you because it's something that you like. I hate dancing but for you I will go anywhere, do anything. I did it because I love you, more than I can possibly say.”

  I try to interject. “But what about my history and the royal family…”

  Lars shakes his head. “What about it? I would rather be with you than to be part of any institution that wouldn't welcome you with open arms. I talked to Stellan and I think that we can work something out.”

  My chin wobbles, my eyes brim with tears. I just nod, too overwhelmed for a long speech. “I love you too,” I say.

  Lars doubles down on his proposition, as it were. “I know you've been my fake fiancé for too long, but I'm hoping that you will make it real. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  My eyes fill with tears as I nod. “Yes. Yes, Lars.”

  He frees the ring from its box, sliding it onto my finger beside my old engagement ring. I recognize it; it is the ring that I looked at for so long when we were at the jewler’s, a large princess cut diamond with sapphires around it.

  He stands up and embraces me, his demeanor quite emotional. I press up onto my tiptoes, seeking his mouth. His lips brush mine and I can’t help my tears as I kiss him.

  The music ends, the dancers fade away back into the audience. But Lars and I stay in that spot, holding each other and kissing for what feels like a lifetime. When at last he steps back, beaming down at me, I am almost too emotional to speak.

  Erik and Stellan appear suddenly, clapping Lars on the back. Margot and Nika grin and congratulate me. The audience seems to get the biggest kick out of their royal family acting out their lives where the public can see.

  No one says anything to me about who my father was or anything else; they are just seem to focus on the fact that I am a princess and I am here, within their reach.

  To my de
light, the music starts again, playing something slower this time. Lars grins and takes my hand, pulling me into a slow dance against his body. I look up at him, feeling so overwhelmed.

  He looks down at me, wrinkling his face. “What?”

  “I just… when I think about you and me and how we finally got together, it makes me smile. But I also know that there will be critics.” I pull a face. “Your grandmother is a prime example.”

  Lars cocks his head, smiling. “My grandmother is no longer a part of the royal family. She has had it coming for a while now, but this was the nail in her coffin.”

  I blink up at him, unsure that I heard him right. “What?”

  He shrugs. “I told Stellan about how horribly Momse treated you, how she blackmailed and threatened you. And he agreed that we don’t want to give her a chance to get her hooks into our children. So she’s not banished from Denmark, but she is forbidden from all of the palaces and all the family events.” His lips quirk. “To tell you the truth, I really never cared for her much anyway. Momse was one misstep away from me just deciding not to talk to her anymore. And you were a hell of a misstep, Pippa.”

  Tears threaten to overtake me again. “Thank you, Lars.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. I’m the reason that such a poisonous person was ever in your life. I don’t think we will miss her one single bit. Do you?”

  I lean my face against the firm wall of his chest, shaking my head. “I don’t think so.”

  For half a minute, we just dance like that, totally wrapped up in each other. Eventually he dips me, kisses me, and makes me laugh again.

  “God, I fucking love you,” I say, breathless from laughter.

  “And I love you, little witch,” he says, squeezing my body tightly against his. “I’ve loved you since the first second I laid eyes on you back in school. And if I am lucky, I will love you for the rest of my long, long life.”

  I wipe my eyes and feel incredibly lucky. My friends surround me, Lars holds me close, and though I know that there will be some more things to figure out, I am just so glad that my best friend has become my fiancé for real this time.

  38

  Lars

  I marry my best friend two months later on a cool early spring day. After much discussion, it's decided that we should just keep it private, only invite people that we actually want there.

  So now I am standing in the nave of a church, anxiety pumping through my veins, as my family and friends look on. I'm wearing a dark pair of dress pants and a white button up; Pippa didn't want anything too fancy or fussy. And I am willing to give her whatever she wants.

  Stellan and Margot, Nika and Erik, and my parents stare up at me from the pews. That's the entire group that will see us get married today. That's it.

  The door opens at the other end of the markedly somber church, revealing my bride. She enters in a rose-colored lace gown, simple and elegant. I grin at her as she glides down the aisle toward me.

  This is the moment that I have been slowly building to for fifteen years. Of course, I didn't know that this exact thing was what I wanted, but I think if you’d have told me that I would end up marrying beautiful redheaded Pippa, I would have been okay with it.

  And standing here today, as Pippa climbs the steps and takes my hand, I feel like all my dreams are coming true. I lift the delicate veil off her face, pushing it back a little. Pippa looks up at me, tears shining in her eyes, and she just looks so fucking beautiful. It takes my breath away.

  The minister keeps our ceremony short and simple. We hold hands and recite our vows to each other. The minister pronounces us husband and wife and suggests that I kiss my bride.

  I grab Pippa's waist, pulling her in and dipping her back for a dramatic kiss. I can feel her smile.

  It matches my own, I am certain.

  I offer Pippa my arm, cocking a brow. “Are you ready, Mrs. Løve?”

  Her cheeks go pink but she beams up at me, ridiculously happy. “Yes, your highness.”

  I grin at that. “You know, you are now the Duchess of Marion. And your children will be titled too,” I remind her.

  She looks me dead in the eyes and utters the words I most need to hear. “I couldn’t really care less about the title, Lars. You’re the only one I care about.”

  I kiss her on the lips, jubilant. She takes my arm and I lead her down the steps, the following a procession made of my family.

  Afterward, we toast our vows at an upscale brunch. Pippa insisted on picking a restaurant for the reception, such as it is. So soon I am pushing in her chair at a white linen table set for eight, looking around the brightly lit space. Pippa beams at me as I take my seat beside her, incredibly excited about everything.

  “So? What do you think?”

  Finding her hand under the table, I give it a squeeze. “You have to be more specific, love.”

  She wrinkles her nose at me. “I know that you didn't want this small of a ceremony…”

  I chuckle. “No, I didn't have any feelings about even having a ceremony. Honestly, I thought that I would never get married. Obviously, I was wrong.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “You were. I forgive you, though.”

  All the family that we invited finds their seats around us, chatting amongst each other for a moment. Everyone gets a flute full of champagne or sparkling cider. The food has already been ordered so we all just sit back and relax.

  Stellan stands up, bringing a knife to the rim of his glass, calling for a toast. He raises his champagne flute. “To the bride and groom! May you live a long and happy life together.”

  “Hear, hear!” everyone agrees.

  Margot pushes up out of her chair, cupping her pregnant belly. She also raises her glass, looking at Pippa and I. Tears shimmer in her eyes as she smiles broadly at us. “It was a long time coming. But that doesn't make it any less special. I'm glad that you two found your happily ever after. I wish you all the best.”

  Pippa wipes at her eyes, blowing Margot a kiss. I glance at the faces around the table, faces of the people that I hold dearest, and I feel like the luckiest man on earth.

  39

  Pippa

  I reach behind my body as I step out of the airport’s cargo terminal, needing reassurance. Luckily Lars is right there, grabbing my hand and giving it a kiss. He is always right beside me when I need him, a solid presence. Today of all days, I cling to him.

  “I know you’re anxious, little witch,” he says. “But you’ve got no reason to be nervous. The doctor said that you being stressed is bad for the baby. So just breathe.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I know. I'm just not sure I'm ready for this, you know?”

  Lars pulls me close, kissing the top of my head. “It will be okay. You'll see.”

  Holding my hand, he leads me over to the waiting SUV, putting me in the back seat. As we pull out of the airport, I look at the city of Paris looming in the distance. Against a steel gray sky, it is a dark shape, taking up more and more of the horizon as we approach it.

  This was where my little sister Stella finally agreed to meet me. I press my palm against the window, frowning at the darkening sky. It starts to rain a little, giant fat drops from above. I do my best to breathe instead of tensing up my entire body, but I know that my blood pressure is higher than the doctor would like.

  As we make our way into the city, turning down dark gray streets, I reach across the seat and take Lars’s hand again. He doesn't say anything, but he does wrap my small hand in his big one, squeezing and reassuring me. We get out of the car at the address that Stella gave me.

  It's in a nondescript part of the outskirts of Paris, on a block where there are a few little shops on the side. Lars points to the shop that obviously has a giant coffee cup on the window. I think that's the spot we're looking for.

  I stand in the street, staring at the coffee shop for a few seconds. Someone on a Vespa honks their horn at me, startling me into motion. Lars leads the way across the street
and into the shop.

  From outside, I can see Stella perched by the window. Her halo of red curls is on full display as we walk in the door. The coffee shop she's chosen is very small and she's essentially the only customer. She is sitting with a cup of coffee, nervously jiggling her crossed legs. She looks up and our gazes connect.

  The fact that I ever doubted that she might be my sister is immediately erased from my mind. She has the same blue eyes that she did when we were kids, the same earnest stare. She stands up, nervously running her hands over her light blue sweater and tucking her hair behind her ear.

  Lars steps forward, stretching his hand out to Stella. “Bonjour,” he says. “I'm Lars.”

  He uses a hand on the small of my back to propel me forward, so I stick my hand out too, still nervous that my little sister might judge me poorly. She grips my hand and blushes, obviously fairly nervous herself.

  When she lets go, she motions to the service counter. “Would you like something to drink?”

  The fact that she just offered to buy two of Europe's richest people coffee is not missed by me. I blush and turned to Lars, that he is already waving me down. “I'll get it. You just sit down.”

  Stella takes her seat back, leaving three padded chairs facing her in a loose semi-circle to choose from.

  I take the closest one, feeling like I have so many questions and so many apologies to make that I don't even know where to begin. Stella pulls out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and perches them on her nose, wrinkling her face daintily.

  “So…” I start, clearing my throat.

  She surprises me by leaning over, touching my hand, and looking at me very directly. “You don't have to be nervous. You don't have to explain anything or apologize for anything. I just want to know what's going on in your life, that's all. I hope that's okay.”

  I'm instantly overwhelmed, my eyes filling with tears. I glance at her as I wipe away tears from my face, trying to find the words for exactly what I need to say to her.