I clear my throat. “What about the one you brought from Germany? The one with the mole between her eyes and the, uh, ear hair.”
Maja scoffs. “Aksel. The children were terrified of her. They called her a witch.”
“Terror is good for children.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Both Clara and Freja seem to absolutely adore Miss Aurora.”
“She’s Australian.”
“So?”
“You said she was French.”
“I didn’t. I said she was in France and has been an au pair and a nanny there for seven years.”
“I don’t like her.”
“You barely met her,” Maja goes on. “You took one look at her and dismissed her. Rather rudely, I might say,” she adds under her breath.
“I heard that.”
“Well, it’s what your mother would tell you.”
“As if she was Miss Sunshine.”
“Aksel.” She admonishes me in a hush.
I turn around to face her. “She’s not dead. I can speak freely of her. And if she were all there upstairs, she would be the first to agree with my assessment.”
She sighs and rubs her weathered hand across her brow. Both my Aunt Maja and my mother were raised to be proper and rigid and eternally elitist. Maja has a heart of gold underneath her frosty façade and my mother very much does not. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of her considering she’s permanently hospitalized and heavily medicated, but it is the way she taught me.
“Then give me a good reason why you’re saying no.”
“I’m your King. I don’t need a reason.”
She narrows her eyes. Unfortunately, this kind of talk doesn’t ever work on her like it works on the rest of the nation.
“I have to tell her something,” she says.
“Then tell her I don’t like her face.”
Her eyes bug out. “My god. What’s wrong with you? I can’t say that.”
I shrug. “It’s the truth.”
“Have you gone mad? Blind? That woman out there is quite beautiful.”
“I know. That’s the problem.”
Or, it will be a problem. I don’t need any distractions in my life and I certainly don’t need a repeat of whatever twist I got in my chest when I looked into her big brown eyes. It hurt like hell.
“Aksel, I haven’t seen you look twice at a woman ever since…”
“This is not about me,” I tell her hastily. “A woman like that, young, attractive, she won’t last long. Some man will sweep her off her feet if they haven’t already and she’ll leave us.”
“I do believe she’s single.”
“Right. Which makes this worse. Find someone who is more…”
I raise my brows, expecting her to fill in the blanks without me having to say it.
“You want to hire someone less attractive, is that it?”
“I just don’t want to hire her.”
“That’s discrimination.”
I let out a dry laugh. “What isn’t these days? Listen, I’ve made up my mind. A nanny like that is probably flighty and unreliable, and she’s just going to up and leave and we’re going to start this process all over again.”
“But sir, she—”
I sit down at my desk and busy myself with papers, waving her away with my hand. “Send her back to the airport and on her merry way. That’s final.”
I hear Maja sigh. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The door closes behind her.
Finally, space to breathe.
I put my head down on the desk and close my eyes, letting my thoughts run rampant for a minute before I rein them in.
That was bizarre, to say the least, and I have no idea what came over me out there. I took one look at the Australian and it was like something pierced my heart. In a terrible way.
There was nothing familiar about her. In fact, everything about her seemed wholly unique, from the paleness of her skin against her mahogany hair to the pouting curve of her lips to those eyes. Damn those eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any so big and brown before, like she was a fucking cartoon. They completely caught me off-guard.
I don’t like being caught off my guard.
My guard is up for a reason.
And as a result, she has to go.
I have to say, I do feel better after making that decision. I abhor complications and especially when it involves feelings. There is no place for them in my position—you’d think I would have learned that enough while growing up. I certainly learned that with Helena. And after she died, I might as well be branded with it. Feelings don’t just complicate things, they kill.
God, how they kill.
Luckily my phone rings, distracting me from my thoughts. It’s a call from one of Helena’s various charities. That was her real passion in life, not me, and her charity work did come from a very genuine place. She was often called the next Princess Diana—funny how that turned into a prophecy—for her generous nature toward the people, toward animals, and it was never a stretch. As twisted as our relationship was and how damn cruel she could be at times, the public only sees her in a radiant light. No matter what, I’ll never tamper with her reputation.
There’s a knock at my door.
“Come in,” I say, wondering who it is now.
Maja pokes her head in.
“Tell me you have another nanny candidate with you,” I say gruffly.
“I have your children,” she says, pushing the door wider so that Clara and Freja appear. “And they’d like to have a word with you.”
Even if I’m in a mood, my girls always bring a softness to my heart, a smile to my face.
“Girls,” I say to them. “What do you have to say?” I quickly glance up at Maja. “Don’t you have someone to accompany back to the airport?”
Maja just nods and closes the door, leaving me with Clara and Freja.
Both of whom look upset.
“Come over here. What happened?” I ask.
Clara takes Freja’s hand and leads her over to the side of my desk. Though just a year older than Freja, she’s always been the bossy one and the sweet girl has really stepped up ever since the accident, taking her sister under her wing.
“Freja won’t stop crying,” Clara says, putting her sister on the spot.
I peer at Freja and her red nose and watery eyes. She won’t meet my eye, won’t say anything either. I can’t stand to see either one upset and sometimes I feel like being a father is akin to constantly having your heart broken.
“What is it?” I ask Freja, leaning in close. “Why are you crying?”
She doesn’t say anything, just bites her lip. Freja is quiet and emotional so I’m used to having to wring things out of her. Clara, on the other hand, is loud and bossy and really doesn’t seem to be affected by anything. Sometimes I worry about that, but then again, when am I not worrying about them?
I put my hand on her warm cheek. “Freja? Tell me.”
“It’s the nanny,” Clara says, as if it was obvious.
I look at her sharply. “The one who was just here? What about her?”
All the more reason I was smart to get rid of her.
“You sent her away,” Clara says crossly.
“You mean the one from earlier, with the accent and…” Those eyes.
“The Goddess,” Clara clarifies.
“What?” Now I’m confused.
“She’s a goddess,” she repeats, lifting her chin. So much defiance. “We’re goddesses too. She taught us all about them. Not just our boring ones but the Greek ones. I’m a child of the sun god, Helios.”
Pretty sure that’s not true, I want to point out. Now she’s filling their heads with false information? I shake my head, sitting back up. “Why would she be talking to you about that? Wait. It doesn’t matter. She’s gone.”
Freja bursts into tears.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I say to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Did she scare you with that
accent of hers and tales of gods?”
“Father,” Clara says impatiently. “Freja loves her. She’s the first pretty, kind, and smart lady you’ve brought here and we don’t want her to go.”
Oh, fucking hell. That’s what this is about?
“I’m sorry,” I say carefully. “She just didn’t seem like she was right for us. You understand?”
“No,” Freja eventually mumbles, snot blowing out of her nose, her face all red. “She told us she wanted to be our nanny and we want her to be our nanny and then Auntie Maja said she had to go.”
“Freja,” I try and explain.
“She was like Mama.”
Another hit to my heart, this time deeper, with a jagged instrument.
I can feel my face pale in front of them.
I look at Clara. “She reminded you of your mother?”
Clara shrugs. “Not me. Mama was prettier. But we really, really like her and we want her to be our nanny. Can you go send for her?”
This is not working out the way I wanted.
At all.
I hate disobeying my daughters.
“Clara, Freja, listen to me. The nanny, the prospective nanny—”
“Aurora,” Freja whispers.
“Yes.”
“The Goddess,” Clara chimes in.
I try not to roll my eyes. “Yes. Her. I really do think she’s better for someone else. Another family. Not ours. We’re so … special, you understand? We need someone just as special to take care of my princesses. Don’t worry though, we’ll find someone.”
Freja bursts into tears again. “That’s what you always say and I hate them all.”
For helvede.
“Father,” Clara says, “don’t make Freja cry. Don’t you think we’ve been through enough?”
I watch her little face in amazement. She has her mother’s features, that’s for sure, green eyes, golden hair, olive skin. Inherited her mother’s cleverness as well. She knows exactly how to get her way.
I’m not sure I have a choice in this matter.
Imagine a king being ruled by his princesses.
I let out a long sigh, closing my eyes.
I can’t believe I’m going to have to do this.
Maja will have to bring her back.
She may not even want the job after the way I treated her.
I may have to grovel.
I do not grovel.
When I open my eyes again, both girls are looking at me expectantly.
“Oh, fine,” I mumble.
“Yay!” they both cry out, jumping up and down and clapping their hands together excitedly.
Hmmmm. Were they really that upset to begin with? Or was this just another example of getting their way? That “mama” card seemed to come out of left field.
It doesn’t matter though. I’m their father. I’m the reason they need a nanny to begin with, the reason they don’t have a mother anymore. Giving them everything they want is the very least I can do.
And I know it will never, ever be enough.
Exhaling heavily, I pick up my phone and call Maja.
“Sir?” she answers.
“Are you still in the house?”
“I’m with Miss Aurora, on the way to the airport,” she answers rather tersely.
“Tell the driver to turn the car around and bring her back.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But, sir, why? You said…” I can tell that Maja is probably eyeing the Aussie right now, trying to keep her from listening.
“I know what I said,” I snap. I let out a sigh. “Just bring her back. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
That last part sounded sarcastic.
“Is she coming?” Freja asks with big eyes. “Is she going to be our new nanny?”
I run my hand down my face.
Anything to keep them happy like this, I remind myself.
I just hope they don’t start making all my hiring decisions from here on out.
It’s a slippery slope.
Chapter 3
Aurora
Maja hangs up the phone and presses her lips together, staring at the blank screen in her hands.
“Everything alright?” I ask. I’m currently nursing the biggest wound of rejection and disappointment imaginable after being dismissed by King Asshole but that doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned about her. I rather like Maja and I have no idea how she can deal with a man like that. Though I guess being part of the royal family helps.
Maja looks at me with a tight, wincing smile. “Miss Aurora, there’s been a change of plans.”
“Change of plans?” Am I going to a different airport now or a later flight or …?
“Yes. You see, the King has made a mistake. He’d like you to come back.”
I stare at her blankly. Speechless.
She goes on, “He apologizes for it but I suppose he dismissed you too hastily. Or something to that effect. I confess, I’m not really sure what’s going on but he ordered me to do so.”
“And you do everything he says, is that it?” I question.
She gives me an odd look. “He is my King, as well as my nephew.”
“Well, he’s not my King. We don’t have a king in Australia, we have a prime minister, and frankly I wouldn’t listen to him either.”
One of her brows slowly raises. “You don’t have to take the job. But I think what this means is that it’s yours if you want it.”
Her words aren’t making the embarrassment I felt back there fade away. “I mean this with no disrespect, but I’m not exactly as, well, eager, for the position as I was before. King or not, I don’t like feeling small and that’s what he made me feel.”
“I did tell you he was disagreeable. You’ll get used to it.”
Right. Disagreeable.
“Henrik,” she says to the driver. “Tilbage til slotted.”
The driver nods, and suddenly we’re making a left and turning around.
So I guess we’re heading back to the palace.
I’m not sure how it’s possible but I’m even more nervous now than I was before.
I swear it has everything to do with the way he treated me and nothing to do with how deadly handsome he was. I say deadly because there was something about his manner and his face that almost dared you to compliment him, as if calling him handsome would get you beheaded. It was a tense, cold kind of attractiveness, like his face and body and spirit were forged in steel and you might turn to stone if you looked at him too long.
King Medusa.
Just like before, we go back to the castle, driving past the crowds who have gathered in the square, but now I’m staring up at the imposing windows knowing they keep a cruel king behind the panes. I know the proper thing would be to just gratefully accept the job but it’s rare that I’ve been able to do the proper thing. I have to remind myself to keep my anger in check. If anything, maybe I’ll try the cold and indifferent approach, much like the same approach he used on me.
Cold and indifferent, cold and indifferent, I repeat to myself as the driver parks behind the gates again and I walk with Maja back into the building.
But instead of taking me back to the room I was in before, she leads me down the gilded halls lined with statues and velvety oil paintings of important people, everything looking more French than Scandinavian, and then up a massive staircase to the second floor.
“Where are we going?” I ask quietly, feeling the need to whisper in the cavernous hallways.
“To his office,” she says, which lights my nerves on fire. “The first floor is primarily for guests and visitors, waiting rooms and dining rooms and the like. This floor is for the staff and any offices. The third is the residential floor.”
But all of that floats over my head because, damn, she’s taking me to his bloody office? Why do I feel like I’m back in high school and being dragged yet again to the principal?
I don’t have to
o much time to dwell on it because we’ve stopped in front of a pair of large double doors.
Maja gives me a small smile that offers no hope and then quickly raps with her knuckles on it. “Sir?” she calls out loudly.
There is a pause and then his deep voice booms, “Show her inside.”
Oh jeez.
Maja opens the door and leads me in.
My eyes quickly flit over to King Asshole sitting at his desk and then take in the rest of the room. Like I’m sure most rooms are in this palace, it’s large and impersonal. In fact, other than the desk with a phone and stacks of folders, plus some books on the shelves, there isn’t anything about this room that screams “Office of the King.”
Also, I think I was expecting him to be wearing a crown while he sits at his desk.
The only thing he’s wearing is a grimace.
I thought he would be the groveling type, but I guess not.
King Aksel barely looks at me, instead focusing on the papers in his hand. “Thank you, Maja. I’ll need a few moments alone with her.”
Her. Not even my name yet. Does he even know my name?
“Very well, Your Majesty,” Maja says and leaves, shutting me in the office with the King.
It feels like I’m being locked in a jail cell.
I clear my throat out of habit and stare down at him, waiting for him to address me personally, all while trying to appear cold and indifferent.
I’m just about to open my mouth and ruin my resolve when he taps his long index finger along the top of the paper he’s looking at, the paper which I’m now recognizing as my resume.
“It says here that you’ve worked in France for quite a few families,” he says, his voice gruff.
“Yes, sir,” I say. Since he’s still staring at my resume as if it’s some sort of treasure map, I’m staring at the top of his head. His hair is light brown, thick and shiny. Slightly longer on the top than the sides, but short overall. A somewhat hip haircut for a king.
“I take it you must speak some French?” he asks.
“Un peu,” I say carefully.
Finally he looks up at me, and it takes a lot of willpower to meet his eyes and not look away. Have I turned to stone yet?
“C’est tout?”
I nod. That’s it. Just a bit. I mean, I know I’m almost fluent but I have a feeling if I admit to that he’s going to start testing me.
A Nordic King Page 4
