by Caroline Lee
At Father’s lawyer’s office—on the top floor of one of Solrighaven’s newest buildings—they got another surprise.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Lindq—excuse me, Princess,” Mr. Jorgensen stammered out, “But your father was quite clear he wouldn’t be joining us today. He did sign all of the papers transferring custody of your nephew to you—and I won’t repeat the words he used.” The tiny man pushed his glasses up on his nose with one hand, while opening the file folder with the other. “But the gist was that he had no interest in sitting in the same room as you and His Highness.”
Viggo sucked in an offended breath, so she hurried to placate him.
“Honestly, this is the best we could’ve hoped for. It wasn’t going to be a pleasant meeting, having to explain my choices.”
“Because you chose me?” he asked quietly. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Because I’m not my sister.” She stated the truth with a calmness which came from years of examining it. “I’m not as beautiful, I’m not as vivacious, and I didn’t become the celebrated gem she did.”
Viggo reached for her hand. “She was miserable in your father’s shadow. That’s why she rebelled the way she did. His expectations turned her into the pitiable woman she was by the end.”
He was right. Marcia had long ago thought she’d come to terms with her sister’s death and her father’s part in it, but tears formed in her eyes nonetheless. He’d seen it. He’d understood.
I love you, she almost blurted out. I love you for understanding. I love you for still loving your son, despite where he came from. I love you for seeing the real me.
Instead, she whispered, “Thank you,” and offered a watery smile.
The meeting with Mr. Jorgensen took a relatively short amount of time, with Marcia and Viggo signing where the lawyer told them to and listening as he explained all the ramifications. They were heading down to the valet when Viggo’s phone buzzed. Since they were in the middle of a teasing discussion about sleeping arrangements and the possibility of Stefan having future siblings—a conversation which had Marcia blushing happily—he ignored it. He ignored the second ring too. The third time, he ripped it out of his pocket and thumbed the call acceptance with an angry “What?”
His expression slowly changed from irritation to concern to downright fear as he listened. “Okay,” he finally said in a shaking voice. “We’ll be right there.”
As he hung up, Marcia was already dreading what she would hear. “What is it? What happened?”
“That was Johan,” Viggo said in a flat voice, still staring at the phone. “William never made it to the palace.” When he met her eyes, there was terror in his eyes. “He and Stefan are missing.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Tell me you’ve got news!”
Viggo burst into Alek’s study, dragging Marcia behind him. He’d practically run through the palace halls, once his twin had texted him where they were all meeting. The bodyguards out front—not Toni, since she was in on the meeting—had opened the door when they’d seen him and Marcia barreling down the corridor.
All conversations—and it looked like there’d been several arguments going on—stopped as they burst in. Quite a few expressions were filled with sorrow as they turned to Viggo and Marcia. He found himself searching for his oldest brother.
Alek, who had never had anything good to say about his younger playboy brother, met Viggo’s eyes with a sad shake of his head. He was seated behind his desk, a map of Solrighaven spread out in front of him with three cups of coffee holding down the edges. His hair was unusually mussed, and his tie undone. He looked just as defeated as the men around him as he sighed heavily.
“I’m sorry, Viggo,” he said quietly. “The police can’t even figure out where William went missing between the marina and here, much less where they are.”
“This is bullshit!” Kristoff burst out, and Viggo noted two of William’s sons nodding in agreement. “Why the hell can’t they find his car at least? This is an island. There’s only so many places he could’ve gone in these few hours, and the population is tiny compared to most countries.”
“Not that tiny,” grumbled Mack quietly.
“Okay, okay.” Johan stepped forward from his place by the window, making a placating gesture with his free hand. His other hand held his tablet, the light from which illuminated his expression—calm as always. “Let’s start from the beginning.”
Arne’s sigh was frustrated. “All we know is that William—”
“And Stefan!” The anguished cry burst from Marcia’s lips in a half-sob.
As all the eyes in the room turned on her, Viggo watched her blush. She tucked her chin against her chest like she used to when she was living in her sister’s shadow, and her shoulders shook. No. As much as his heart ached with fear, he couldn’t let her suffer like this. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and reached the other around her, pulling her against his chest.
“Yeah. And Stefan,” he agreed quietly, meeting his twin brother’s eyes.
Johan nodded slightly. “William and Stefan left the marina after the rehearsal luncheon, traveling separate from Mother’s and Alek’s entourage. Those of us who were heading here also managed to all leave at different times so no one saw what happened.” He glanced down at his tablet, fingers working over the screen. “All we know is that when our soon-to-be-stepbrothers—” Johan nodded to William’s sons, “—went looking for him this afternoon, he’d never arrived in his office. Neither the motor pool nor the valet—nor the gate guard—have any record of their arrival by car, so we have to assume they never made it to the palace.”
Against his chest, Marcia sucked in a shuddering breath, but kept her attention on Johan. “So they’ve been gone, what? It could be a few hours now, right? Have you checked with the hospitals?”
“Yes.” Johan nodded reassuringly. “That was the first thing we did. There’s no record of them—or anyone even remotely matching their description—checking in.”
Viggo’s snort of laughter was sarcastic. “That’s not necessarily a good thing.” With the winding roads between here and the capital, there were places a car could wreck and not be seen immediately. The thought of Stefan trapped, hurt, scared…it was almost more than he could bear. He squeezed Marcia tighter.
As always, his twin brother seemed to know what he was feeling. Johan’s intense grey stare was the only comforting thing in the room. “We’ll find them, Viggo,” he promised quietly. “I swear it.”
Mack took up the explanation. “The police are searching between here and the marina. First for any wreckage or signs of an accident, and second for any signs of violence.”
In Viggo’s arms, Marcia shuddered again, but didn’t say anything.
“But per Alek’s request, we’re working with only two police taskforces,” Arne pointed out.
“Why?” The demand exploded from Viggo in exasperation. “Why the hell don’t we have everyone out there looking?” He took a half-step towards his oldest brother, sitting smug there behind his desk. “Why the hell aren’t we out looking?”
“Damn right,” one of William’s American sons called out.
Alek sighed and ran his hand over his hair. “We’ve been waiting for you two.” He nodded to Viggo and Marcia, then gestured around the room. “We didn’t want to start without you.”
His breath hissed out of him as he leaned towards the map, and Toni stepped away from the window, hovering protectively. For the first time, Viggo noticed how truly exhausted his oldest brother looked. Because of Stefan’s disappearance, or because of the whole wedding fiasco and the shit going on?
“We can’t let the entire force in on it until we know for sure what we’re dealing with. Even the whole guard doesn’t know, but that’s just because of logistics.” Alek picked up a pencil and began rolling it between his hands, his attention half on Viggo, half on the map in front of him. “The more people who know William is missing, the more chance the media will
find out about this. The wedding is tomorrow—” He checked his watch, “—Sorry, in fifteen hours. If the media finds out the groom went missing on his way to the altar, they’re going to rehash Aunt Marina’s lies about infidelity, and there’s going to be all sorts of speculation that he ran off. After the media attention of the last few months, the royal family cannot afford any more bad publicity.”
“And we’re sure he didn’t?” When all eyes turned on him, Kristoff shrugged. “Run off, I mean.”
Cass socked him in the shoulder, then proceeded to rub the sting out. “He loves your mother. It’s sickeningly sweet, yeah, but he would never do anything to hurt her like that.”
“Damn right,” the same one of William’s sons—what the hell were their names? Viggo couldn’t keep them straight—repeated, more quietly this time.
“And Mom?” Arne crossed his arms in front of his chest. Like most of his brothers and soon-to-be-stepbrothers—everyone except Kristoff, who’d changed into cut-offs and a t-shirt immediately—he was still wearing the suit he’d worn at the rehearsal earlier in the day. “You still don’t think we should tell her?”
Mack spoke up again. “I’m with Alek on this. What good is worrying her going to do at this point? We’re all worrying like hell about it, and I vote we let her remain in peace until…” He swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Until there’s no other option.”
Until it’s too late. Until the hour of the wedding came around and the groom was still missing.
The groom and their little boy.
In his arms, Marcia began to shake again. Viggo couldn’t do anything but hold her tighter, burying his face in her sweet-smelling strawberry hair and wondering how his life had changed so much in only a few days.
“Vote, eh?” Arne quipped dryly. “We’re a monarchy.”
“A constitutional monarchy,” Johan corrected, just as dryly. “But as it happens, I agree with Mack and Alek on this one. Let Mom do her primping and pampering and if we can get William back before tomorrow morning, none the worse for wear, then she doesn’t need to worry about it.”
Across the room, Kristoff shrugged and held up a finger as if voting. “I’m on board with whatever you think is best. Just tell me what to do.”
Cass wrapped her arms around his middle and nodded her agreement. Behind her, her brothers shrugged or nodded, depending on their perspectives.
Arne sighed, then shrugged. “Okay, okay.” He raised a brow. “Viggo?”
“We don’t care,” Viggo said hoarsely. “Just find him. Find Stefan, and screw the wedding.”
Johan nodded in agreement. “We will, Viggo,” he said quietly.
Their eldest brother cleared his throat. “So we’ve got two teams checking for the car. Let’s brainstorm other places to check, and those of us in this room can be in charge of searching specifically for William and Stefan.”
Toni’s hand came down hard on his shoulder. “Everyone but you, Your Highness.”
Alek twisted to raise a brow at her, but she answered him with a frown.
“You’ve already been kidnapped once, remember? You’re staying right here as long as there’s a threat.”
“I was kidnapped from this room,” Alek replied dryly.
Toni flicked the snap off the strap on her holster. “Thanks for the reminder, dear.”
His lips twitched. “You’re right though.” He turned back to his brothers. “About the kidnapping thing, I mean. I was kidnapped in an effort to stop the wedding, and we think the yacht’s attempted sabotage was in order to stop or at least delay the wedding. We know Marina was behind the rumors to the press, and she and Mother have made their peace with that.”
“Although her attempt to stop the concert just to delay the announcement was pretty dumb.” Mack spoke up.
Arne scowled at his brother. “At least no one was hurt then.”
“I’m just saying that maybe we should find her and ask if she knows where Lindqvist is.”
“Why would she know?” Kristoff asked. “She hates the man.”
“The point is,” Alek raised his voice, “that we have proof someone is doing their best to stop this wedding. I think we should assume that’s what this move is. Another kidnapping.”
Or worse. No one said it, but the way Marcia pulled away just far enough to stare up at Viggo with teary eyes told him she was thinking it too.
The rest of his brothers—and their girlfriends and William’s kids—drifted towards the desk to argue about possible locations of where William could be, but Viggo stared down at Marcia.
The fear tightening his chest was horrible, but it was the terror in her expression which hurt the most. Not only was Stefan out there, going through God-knew-what, but Marcia was here, out of her mind with worry, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to make it better.
Not unless he found Stefan for her. For them both.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, repeating Johan’s promise, willing her to believe it. Willing himself to believe it. “We’ll find him, and he’ll be safe. I mean, he is safe.”
She nodded shakily. The determined way she pressed her lips together belied the tears finally spilling over her cheeks.
Viggo cursed under his breath and pulled her against him once more. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to let anything happen to him. It was just coincidence he was with William when all this happened. I’m sure whatever’s going on with William, Stefan is safe and happy and talking up a storm.”
Her watery smile was false. “Yeah.” She nodded, swallowed, and nodded again. “I’m sure he’s fi—” Her breath caught on a sob, and she couldn’t finish the thought.
Viggo closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the top of her head once more. “I’m sorry, Marcia,” he whispered.
“Wait!” With a jerk, she pulled back from him once more, her eyes going round.
Viggo clutched at her, his stomach clenching at the thought of her not wanting his support in public like this. After all they’d shared, how could she—?
But that’s not what she meant at all. “Viggo!” she said a little breathlessly, a mixture of fear and excitement in her eyes. “What if it wasn’t a coincidence at all?”
From the desk, one of his brothers asked, “What do you mean?” But Viggo couldn’t tear his gaze away from his wife to see which one it had been.
“What if it wasn’t…?” he repeated. Then his eyes widened as he understood. “You mean, what if Stefan was the target, not William?”
“What if whoever did this wasn’t doing it to stop the wedding?” She clutched at his arms, as if torn between asking for support and giving it. “What if William was the one who just happened to be swept up in it?”
The cluster of people around the desk shifted and opened as they each considered this new information. Alek ran his hand through his hair. “I suppose, since you three appeared together at the rehearsal yesterday, it’s possible someone has put two and two together.”
“What do you mean?” Arne asked.
Kristoff nudged him. “He means that you’ve only got to look at the kid to see he’s your nephew. He’s got the Magnusson eyes.”
Mack rolled those same eyes. “Then how come none of us looked at him all these years and figured it out? Viggo only said that he’d married Marcia and was claiming Stefan as his own.”
“He’s mine.” Viggo’s words cut through the bickering, his voice proud. “He’s mine, and I’ve loved him since the day Marcia told me her sister was pregnant.” One arm still around her, he pulled his wife up against his side, and faced his family, his back straight and his body tense, ready to do battle. “He’s mine,” he repeated, more forcefully.
Alek slowly nodded. “That means he’s ours too.”
The tension drained from Viggo’s shoulders, and Marcia placed her hand on his chest. If Alek had accepted Stefan—not just as Viggo’s legal son, but his biological one—then the rest of the family would too. Already his brothers were nodding in agreement, a
s if they’d never wondered.
And Johan? His little smug grin was only a little annoying.
“So…” Arne straightened. “You think it’s possible someone took Stefan to get to us?
Alek nodded. “It could be the same theory though. Whoever wants the wedding stopped took him. Or it could be they want something else, and are going to use him as a bargaining chip.”
Instead of shuddering at the suggestion, Marcia straightened without pulling away from Viggo. Her hand remained on his chest, as if she were offering him support instead of the opposite way. “Or…”
When every eye in the room turned on her, she didn’t flush. She didn’t cringe. Marcia lifted her chin and swung her beautiful blue gaze towards Viggo once more.
“Or this doesn’t have anything to do with your family.”
Understanding crashed into Viggo, and he sucked in air between his teeth in surprise. “Your father?”
When she nodded, he glanced at Alek. “After the luncheon today, we signed the papers granting us custody. But Lindqvist wasn’t at his lawyer’s office. The man told us it was because Lindqvist wasn’t pleased with Marcia’s choice of a husband, but what if it was something more…?”
Marcia’s voice was tiny. “What if he wasn’t there because he didn’t intend on giving up Stefan at all?”
Alek frowned, but it was Johan who answered. “But if all three of you signed those papers, Stefan is legally yours now. Lindqvist kidnapping my nephew wouldn’t do any good.”
Kristoff shrugged. “It doesn’t sound as convincing as the first theory—that William was the target, in an effort to stop the wedding.”
Viggo stared into his wife’s frightened eyes. A sense of surety settled over him. “I don’t care about the wedding right now,” he said softly, not caring who heard him. “And William isn’t my first priority.” Taking a determined breath, he glanced at his twin brother. “You look where you need to look. Find Aunt Marina and question her, I guess. But Marcia and I are going to Lindqvist’s estate. If Stefan’s not there, we’ll come back and help you.”
