“And I take it you don’t speak Danish?”
I shake my head. “No, sir. Never thought I would need to.”
He seems to consider that for a moment, wiggling his lower jaw slightly, then looks back to the resume. My stomach flutters with relief at the break in his gaze. Fuck, this man is intense.
“And so what made you apply for this position?” he asks, voice sounding a bit tired now. He leans back in his chair, casual yet alert, finger tapping along the edge of his armrest as he stares at me.
“The placement agency thought I would be a good match.”
“I’m not too interested in what they think. They never seem to know their clients. Can you tell me why you think you’re a good match?”
A million things go through my head at once. I could tell him that I’ve done this job for various rich and important families, that I have great references, that I’m up for the challenge, that I’m smart and independent and hardworking. I could tell him a million things.
And yet the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Because I know what it’s like to lose a parent at a young age.”
He blinks at me. I can’t tell if he’s caught off-guard by my comment or not.
I go on, pleased that my voice is remaining steady. Not that it shouldn’t but when I get nervous I can never predict how my body will react. “I know what the girls need right now.”
“And what is that?”
“Love,” I say, and now when I swallow, my throat feels thick. “They need discipline and guidance, but they also need compassion, kindness, stability, and above all, they need love.”
He frowns, his jaw getting that tense tremor to it. I don’t know why I thought telling him this would soften him up, but then again, I didn’t really think about it at all.
“And so you think it’s that easy,” he says.
“I never said it would be easy.” I try not to narrow my eyes at him, try not raise my voice. “But since it won’t be easy for any nanny, it might as well be someone who understands. Who doesn’t quit when it gets tough.”
“But you have quit before,” he says, eyes drifting briefly to the resume and back to me, brows raised in challenge. “All these families, you haven’t stayed on for more than a few years.”
I ignore that. “I understood this was a year-long placement.”
“It is,” he says. He gets out of his chair with grace, putting his hands behind his back as he strolls over to the side of the desk, closer to me.
I can’t help but take a step back.
He stops, his head tilted to the side, chin up, observing me. “But who is to say you won’t quit before a year is up? This job is hard, and it’s not like any other nanny position you’ve had. We are a royal family, we’re on another…level, which means you have to rise to that level.” He sighs, almost sounding bored. “Frankly, I stand by what I originally said.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t think you’re fit for the job.”
I try not to flinch. “Then why am I here?”
Another quirk of his brow, his mouth firm for a moment. “Because of my daughters. They like you. And when it comes to them, it usually doesn’t matter how I think.”
“What makes you think I can’t handle it? You don’t even know me. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
He looks me up and down, completely unimpressed, and yet I can feel every icy drag of his gaze over my skin. “I know that you’re uneducated. That you’re full of false confidence and silly bravado. And that you have no idea how to behave in front of a king.”
I straighten my shoulders, finding my backbone. “You’re right. I never went to university and sometimes it may seem like I have confidence when I shouldn’t. But let me get one thing straight. I respect that you’re doing this for your daughters and I respect your crown and title. But I won’t be talked down to like I’m some lesser being, the gum beneath your shoe. If you want me to treat you with respect, you have to offer that same respect to me. I don’t care who you are.”
My heart is pounding so loud in my ears at this point that I can barely realize what I just said. Holy shit, I think I totally just blew this whole job.
King Aksel’s hands unfold from behind his back and he moves in front of me, to sit on the edge of his desk. His long fingers wrap around the edge, tapping, his jaw muscles tense. Yet there’s no anger in his eyes, not that I can tell anyway. Just a cool curiosity.
“Did you talk to all your past employers this way?” he eventually asks.
“I would have if they were as rude as you.”
Both of his brows shoot up and I’m prepared for him to start shouting to his secret service and have me dragged off to the guillotines.
Instead, he gives me a tight smile. “I’ll be paying your salary. That doesn’t mean I have to like you.”
“And I’ll be earning that salary. That doesn’t mean I have to like you, either.”
“So then, Aurora, tell me why you still want this job since you’d be working for such a rude man as me? Surely there are other jobs that are easier and that pay well? I see that you used to work for CEOs of wineries and software companies. Why not go back to them?”
This is a good question. Why am I here? Why put up with this when it’s already put a bad taste in my mouth?
“Do you want the truth?” I ask him.
“Are you even capable of lying?”
Oh yes.
“Because, now I feel like I have something to prove.” I pause, aware that our gaze is locked together. “I’m sure you can imagine what that’s like. People telling you that you can’t do something, that you’re unfit for it, that you’re not ready for it. For me, it just makes me want to rise to the occasion and do everything I can to prove them wrong. Plus, I really like Clara and Freja.”
He looks away first and I feel like I’ve won some sort of victory, even though I’ve been anything but cold and indifferent.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re about to make my life harder, not easier,” he says, almost to himself.
“Does this mean I have the job?”
He taps his fingers along the desk and stares off into the distance, lost in thought. Then he nods. “Yes.” He glances at me. “But please don’t make me regret this. I’m doing this for them. I do everything I can for them. They will always come first, do you understand?”
I nod, feeling hope and excitement prickle through me. “I do.”
He exhales and then stands up. “There will be many forms to fill out. A background check done by police.” I try not to stiffen at that. “Health checks. Special insurance. You’ll have to sign confidentiality agreements, take an oath to uphold the royal house, take defensive driving lessons and escape tactics in the event of kidnapping.” He holds out his hand. “But for now, this should make it official.”
I breathe in deeply through my nose and give him a small smile as I place my hand in his. His grip is warm and very firm. I do my best to give a confident shake right back at him. “I accept.” I pause. “Your Majesty.”
He doesn’t smile at that but gives my hand a quick squeeze before dropping it. He walks back around the desk. “You start tomorrow, by the way.”
“Tomorrow!” I exclaim. “On a Saturday? I can’t start tomorrow.”
“Why not?” He looks annoyed again.
“Because this job interview was so last minute and I didn’t assume I’d get it. I still have to pack everything up in Paris and—”
He sits back down and starts going through the rest of the papers on his desk, setting my resume aside. “Then go and pack everything up. You’ve been jumping around France for seven years, I’m pretty sure everything you possess can fit in a suitcase.”
He’s right but screw him for being so presumptuous.
“And since you’re in-between jobs,” he continues, “I’m betting you’ve been staying at a short-term rental or Air B&B, and whatever it is, I assure you any money you lose will be properly co
mpensated by us.” He glances up at me, forehead wrinkled. “Maja will handle all the logistics, don’t worry.”
I know I’m currently in an Air B&B that I’ve already paid the rest of the month for, and I don’t have anyone to say goodbye to except for Amelie, but this weekend will be my last weekend of freedom before everything in my life changes. I need to hold on to that.
I swear I see him roll his eyes. “Fine,” he says, as if he can hear my thoughts. “Be here Sunday night then. That will give us enough time to sign everything and then you can start Monday by taking Clara to school.”
“Deal,” I manage to say. Then I stand there for a moment, wondering if there’s something else I should say or that we need to discuss.
He slowly glances up at me, and after a furtive look, says dismissively, “You may go.”
I nod. “See you Sunday night.”
“You may want to brush up on your royal protocol while you’re at it,” he calls after me as I head to the door. “Picking up some basic Danish phrases won’t hurt either.”
“Yes sir,” I say to him before opening the heavy door and stepping out into the hall.
Maja is standing there patiently, hands folded in front of her, a slight wince to her expression. “And how did it go?” she asks carefully.
I attempt to play it cool with a shrug before I break out into a grin. “I got the job!”
Her smile is small but it’s good enough. “That’s wonderful. He wasn’t too hard on you?”
“Oh, he was hard on me,” I tell her. “I believe he called me uneducated and silly at one point. But I’ll manage. I always do.”
She presses her palms together. “I’m so glad. The girls will be delighted.”
“And it’s a lot of weight off your shoulders too. You don’t have to search anymore.”
She nods primly. “Yes, well, hopefully you’ll last the full year.”
Damn, that took the wind out of my sails. I brush it off.
“I have no doubt I will,” I tell her.
Of course, on the other hand, I have no idea what I’m getting into.
And as I follow Maja down the hallway as she gives a quick tour past gilded paintings and marble statues and large, velvet-accented rooms with Baroque floors, rattling off a million different things before she takes me back to the airport, I realize how in over my head I really am.
Even though I haven’t signed anything yet, I feel like when I shook the King’s hand I was agreeing to something beyond my wildest dreams or nightmares.
I hope I didn’t just make a deal with the devil.
A handsome devil, of course.
They usually are.
Chapter 4
Aurora
“Salud,” Amelie says, raising her glass of champagne to me. “Or what do they say in Denmark again?”
I grin and tap my glass against hers before taking a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose. “I believe they say skål.”
“Skål. Why not?” she says with a dainty shrug. She takes a large gulp of her drink but manages to make it look elegant. Even when she’s plastered she appears completely refined. Must be the French way, je ne sais quoi.
“So,” she says, brushing imaginary lint from her shoulders. “I know we do this every time you start another job but this time it feels different. You won’t be in France anymore. I’ll feel so far away from you.” She sticks her precisely-lined red bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.
“I know.” Even though I got to know Amelie through work and we have a mostly professional relationship, she’s probably the closest friend I have. I’m sure that’s considered pathetic to a lot of people but I don’t mind being a loner. Sometimes I think I prefer it that way. Ever since I left Australia, my relationships with people have been shallow and fleeting. They’ve been safe.
But I do like Amelie a lot and I’ve known her for so long at this point, which is why I wanted to have one last drink with her tonight before I leave for Copenhagen tomorrow. And something tells me I’m going to need someone to vent to in the future.
“Hey,” I say to her, looking around the bar to make sure no one is listening. “If I call or email you, you know, just to talk and vent about the job, that won’t be, like, recorded will it?”
She gives me a wry look as she takes a sip. “You mean, like if you’re being sexually harassed at your job, will I keep it a secret? No.”
That’s the thing about my last position. I had been planning on quitting anyway but it was opening up to Amelie about why that set the whole thing in motion.
“You know it’s our duty to protect our clients on both sides,” she goes on.
“I know that, and again, I’m glad for the way that everything worked out, but I’m talking about just … venting.” Then again, if I need to complain about my job, perhaps I’d better just keep it to myself.
“You mean like telling me you think your new boss is an asshole?” she asks, a twinkle in her eyes.
That might have been the first thing I said when she asked me to fill her in.
“Yeah. That.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t make a record of it. You’re the first person I know who will be working for actual royalty. I know in my heart you’re right for the job and that you’re going to do fine, but I also know it’s not going to be easy. Of course you can vent to me. Talk to me. Anytime you want.”
I raise my glass to hers again. “Merci.”
“He is a handsome asshole, though,” she muses after a moment. The door to the bar opens and a couple walks in, bringing with them the brisk autumn air and the sounds of evening traffic in the Marais.
“I can’t deny that.”
I also can’t deny that when I haven’t been packing up my life over the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been stalking the King online. I keep telling myself it’s just so I know what I’m up against, you know, other than a royal dick, and I’m trying to learn as much as possible.
But the truth is, I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flamethrower.
Not that his good looks save his bad attitude. They don’t. I think they make him worse. But I can definitely appreciate how well he’s put together while abhorring his manners.
“I admire you, you know,” she says, eyeing me slyly.
“Oh?” Color me surprised.
“The way you’re always able to just uproot yourself and go. Place to place, family to family. You’re so free, like a bird, doing whatever you please. No wonder you’re obsessed with Holly Golightly. You and her are the same.”
I give her a tight smile. I do love Breakfast at Tiffany’s and I used to think that being free-spirited and independent was the only way to be. I thought if you stayed in one place too long, it would hold you back, and if you got to know people too well, they’d push you down, rubbing your face into the mud.
But Amelie has a boyfriend she loves, a job she’s good at, friends, family, the amazing city of Paris. She’s got a whole life here and it’s a good one. There’s no reason for her to take off. She doesn’t have to live out of a suitcase.
I clear my throat. “You know you can visit me at any time. Or I’ll come see you.”
“Are you sure about that? I’ve seen your contract. You only get one day off a week, Sundays. And you know from personal experience, that you’re rarely going to get that day off. Plus I don’t think they’ll let just any person meet up with you. I’d have to go through many security checks I’m sure.”
I hadn’t thought about that. I suppose to anyone else it could put a real dent in their social life. Luckily I don’t have one.
“You can always say you’re there on behalf of the company. You know, making sure everything is up to code.”
“Exposing the wrongdoings of the Danish royal family.” She laughs, getting out of her chair as she grabs her pack of cigarettes from the table. “I’m going out for a smoke, I’ll be back.”
I watch as she goes, standing out under the lights of the bar as people walk to and fro, darkness
falling fast, the lights of the passing cars lighting the stone buildings in a dreamy way. My heart pinches, just a bit, and I don’t even know why. I feel like I’m missing some piece of me and this job is going to either move me further away from it.
Or closer to it.
* * *
“Aurora, welcome,” Maja says as I enter through the side palace doors and into the foyer. “How was your flight? I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there to meet you, there’s been so much to do today. I hope it wasn’t any trouble finding Henrik.”
I glance up at Henrik, the driver, as he walks past me with my giant suitcase and duffle bag in tow and give him a grateful smile. “No, he was waiting for me at arrivals. I recognized him right away.”
I didn’t think much of Henrik the first time I met him. I expected he wouldn’t speak English and that the ride from the airport would be filled with silence. But the guy talks almost as much as I do. He mainly talked about his family (he’s thirty-two, has a wife and kid, wants to go back to university) but I have a feeling he’s a gossip. He already gave me the low-down about the King’s driver and I know in time I’ll be able to get all the dirty details about the King himself. I can be very persuasive.
“Good,” Maja says, and if I’m not mistaken she seems a little jumpy and nervous. She quickly pivots toward Henrik and calls after him in Danish. Then she gives me a quick smile. “I must remember to speak English more around you, otherwise it might be seen as rude. I was just telling him to put your items away in your room.”
“No worries,” I tell her. “I’m the one who needs to be picking up Danish, and fast. It’s only luck that so far everyone has been fluent in English.”
“Aside from the older generation, you’ll find most people here in Copenhagen speak English, and certainly in the palace. They might be a little, how do you say, self-conscious about it, but they will understand you very well.” She presses her palms together and nods toward the hall. “I know I gave you a quick tour last time but I doubt you were able to take any of it in. Perhaps I should show you around and make introductions to the staff, and then we can get started on the paperwork.”
A Nordic King Page 5
