by Caroline Lee
The twins had been talking about Mom. Mom, and her dorky fiancé, Dr. William Hayes. The happy couple had just locked lips right there in the middle of their party.
Lighten up, it’s their engagement party, Kristoff told himself. And besides, it hadn’t been more than a little peck.
If it had been more, Viggo probably would’ve started hooting and throwing beer bottles. He was the only one less suited to royal life than Kristoff himself was. Of course, he’d always suspected the scoundrel did his best to play up that reputation and was really quite a decent guy beneath all that irreverence and scandal. Otherwise his twin would’ve murdered him long ago.
Besides, for every straight-laced Alek and Johan, there needed to be brothers like Kristoff and Viggo.
We’re probably why Mom’s hair went grey so early.
“I don’t know what she sees in him, but I’m happy for her,” Viggo said good-naturedly, taking another swig of his beer.
“If you spent any time with him,” Mack said quietly, “you’d understand. He’s a good man. Brilliant and kind.”
“And bumbling,” Johan said with a wince as their soon-to-be stepdad stepped on their mother’s toes.
“A trait he passed on to his daughter, the poor thing.” Viggo lifted his stein in a slight gesture, referencing the dark corner by the bar.
His daughter. Kristoff’s gazed pierced the shadows until he saw his soon-to-be stepsister dabbing at her dress with a cocktail napkin.
Viggo clucked. “What is she wearing?”
“Oh, don’t be mean,” Mack said. “She looks lovely.”
“Taffeta? A woman her size needs something slimming.”
“Shut up, Viggo.”
Kristoff mentally agreed with Mack. Cassandra Hayes was lovely.
But Viggo wasn’t done. “Hey, I can appreciate all ladies in all sizes. But I can also appreciate fashion. I understand the black, to be inconspicuous, but the cut of that dress is all wrong.”
Kristoff’s gaze flicked to his brother. “Shut up, Viggo,” he repeated.
He’d only met Cassandra a few times, and she’d struck him as shy and nervous. He wasn’t sure if it was just the circumstances they’d found themselves in—Kristoff was a prince, and she was about to become a step-princess, or whatever the term was—or if she was always so skittish. But he didn’t think she had any reason to be.
She was pretty, with her thick brown hair and rich chocolaty eyes, and he had to admit he didn’t mind looking at her curves. She was a little curvier than was fashionable, but she’d been wearing a t-shirt that time he’d run into her at the gym on her way from the treadmills, and the memory of the way that cotton had molded to her sports bra had made him stare thoughtfully after her for a while.
“But maybe it’s a good thing she’s hanging over there in that corner,” Johan said thoughtfully. “I think one Hayes on the dance floor is all we can handle.”
The joke, from usually reserved Johan, made Mack grin. “Remember the New Year’s Eve ball? When Cassandra turned around and ran into Chancellor Rasmussen, and when she was busy explaining, she backed into the poor guy holding that tray of champagne? I was so embarrassed for her.”
Kristoff hadn’t been in the room for that, but he’d made sure to figure out who the servant had been, and tip him extra for having to clean up the mess. “It’s not her fault,” he found himself defending her. “We can’t all be graceful or light on our feet.”
“Or light at all,” Viggo quipped.
“Shut up,” Kristoff growled.
Two of his brothers chuckled at his irritation, but he didn’t bother turning to see which ones.
The third of six brothers, he’d never been quite sure what his place was. Alek, Arne and Mack all had roles in the government of Aegiria, and important roles at that. Johan did too, even though he was the youngest. Of course Viggo didn’t, but no one had ever expected anything from him—Kristoff expected that’s why Viggo goofed off as much as he did. He was freer than any of them.
But Kristoff… He wasn’t the heir, he wasn’t even the spare. But he was old enough—a year older than Mack, who at least had that pencil-pushing admin job for Mom—and there wasn’t anything about him that made him special. Oh, he could beat the snot out of any of them, but his rock-climbing ability, or record open-swim time, or any of his other hobbies didn’t make him a good prince.
Anyone could do those things.
“Hey, you want a beer?” Viggo asked, finishing his. “Next round’s on me.”
“It’s Mom’s party,” Mack said with an eye-roll. “The beer is free.”
“I know,” Viggo quipped. “That’s why I offered.”
Kristoff waved them away, as all three of his brothers moved to the bar. He was content to lounge there against the pillar and brood. To his surprise, his gaze kept moving back to the far corner, where Cassandra was doing a poor job of hiding behind a plant.
Step-princess? Princess-by-marriage? Kristoff wasn’t sure what the word was, but for the first time since he’d met her, for the first time since Dr. Hayes and Mom had become engaged, he realized he very much wanted to find out.
He and his brothers were about to acquire a step-sister—and a few step-brothers, if he remembered Dr. Hayes’ file correctly—and he knew very little about her. Just that she had a part-time job down in Solrighavn, where she lived with her father. Kristoff assumed they’d both be moving to the palace after the wedding, but for now, she was basically a mystery.
And that was stupid, because she was about to become part of their family. He wondered who would know more about her, and her role. “Step-princess” was a mouthful, and surely there was a precedent. Maybe Ivan would be able to tell Kristoff more—the old steward knew everything about everything that went on in the palace.
Kristoff watched his brothers and mother dance with their respective partners, and he frowned slightly, his mind already elsewhere. He found himself curious about all sorts of things…
But especially Cassandra.
CHAPTER TWO
She was reading on her Kindle, tucked into a cozy nook in the apartment she shared with her father, listening to the rain beating against the window, when Cassandra’s phone dinged. She had to dig around in the nest of pillows she’d piled around herself, but eventually found it and clicked the “text” icon.
It was from her boss at the spa. After realizing Dad didn’t need her all those months ago, she’d gone looking for a job. Turned out, her American massage therapy license applied over here, so she’d gotten the same kind of job she’d taken to work through grad school. Bonus: it was almost as much fun as studying history.
She thumbed the message open.
Hey Cass, any chance you’re available to take some shifts? Gunnar had some bad shellfish and we’re scrambling.
Her heart began to pound in excitement. Not because she was desperate to go into work on her day off—although since it was a part-time gig, it wasn’t like she was swamped to begin with—but because of the name. Gunnar had plenty of clients, sure, but he also happened to be the massage therapist on call at the palace.
Still, she figured she should play it cool. Probably nothing.
There’s such a thing as bad shellfish in Aegiria? she managed to type with shaking fingers. Then, because she was desperate to know if Gunnar’s cancelled shifts were at the palace—and who the client was!—she hurried to type, Kidding. What’s the gig?
Her boss’s reply was quick.
Ha. And FYI, I had to look up what “gig” meant. You Americans…
Anyhow, Gunnar had his standing appointment at the palace today with one of the princes. We can cancel, of course. But I figured I’d ask you, since you’re the only other MT with security clearance up there.
“One of the princes,” she whispered as her gaze went to the large bay window with the rain beating against it. Normally there was a beautiful view of the bay on the other side of it, and this window seat was her all-time favorite spot in Aegiri
a. From here—on a clear day—she could see the ships and pleasure boats zipping in and out of the harbor…she’d miss it when she and Dad moved up to the palace. For now, the rivulets of water didn’t offer any insight to the excitement she was feeling, and she forced herself to focus on what her boss was asking.
One of the princes. Which one? Did it matter?
Well, yeah, obviously it mattered. These guys were about to become her step-brothers. Because having biological brothers apparently isn’t punishment enough. She didn’t need to think of any of them as anything other than her soon-to-be stepmother’s sons.
But there was one she wanted to think of as much more than that.
Still, even if the appointment wasn’t for Kristoff, she could be professional about this. Heck, if it was for Kristoff, she’d have to be even more professional. Her boss was right; there were a limited number of massage therapists in Aegiria to begin with, and she and Gunnar were the only ones with palace clearance.
Besides, she had to be at the palace tonight anyhow for that “family dinner” Dad had suggested… Might as well pack her outfit and hair supplies and just get changed at the gym there.
Cassandra took a deep breath and touched the keyboard on her phone to wake it up again.
I’ll do it.
Dangling three stories above the gym floor by one hand probably wasn’t the best place for introspection, but it had always worked for Kristoff. The fancy belaying system meant he could climb alone whenever he wanted…whenever he needed to sort out a particularly complicated problem. Physical exertion focused his mind in a way nothing else did; whether it was swimming or climbing or battling against the wind out on the bay or even just running.
He loved to free climb, but after a particularly nasty fall as a teenager—and hadn’t that been a miserable summer, stuck inside wearing a cast?—Mom had insisted he take more precautions. Still, he would’ve been out on the cliffs today, had his weather app and Ivan not pointed out cliff-climbing in the rain was dumb.
Rain or not, he needed to be moving, climbing. Pitting himself against something bigger and grander, something changing and tricky and fun. It was the only way to think.
He’d been the one to pay for and install the climbing wall in the gym—there were benefits to being a wealthy prince—and he had a crew who would sometimes come in and change things up for him. It’d been a few months since he’d tried out the far left face, and it had proved just the challenge his body needed to focus on the muddle going on in his head.
He wasn’t a businessman. In any sense of the word. Which is why no one knew about his involvement in the charity which was so near and dear to his heart. The last thing he wanted was for his investment to become well-known, and everyone to start clamoring for him to become the public face of Enriching Children.
I’d rather break my leg again.
But unless he could figure out a way to get them the money they needed, he was going to have to donate it directly, and then everyone would start calling him noble and generous and all that B.S., instead of leaving him alone to sail. Or climb.
Breathing heavily, he swung to another hold, reveling in the burn of the muscles across his upper back. Here was where he belonged, not smooth-talking for some charity.
He’d become involved accidentally about six years ago, when one of Enriching Children’s spokeswomen had requested a meeting. Lady Marcia Lindqvist had gone on to be almost-engaged to Kristoff’s oldest brother briefly, but back then she was just the quiet, bookish younger daughter of one of Aegiria’s last nobles, Earl Lindqvist. And it turned out, she was quite passionate about making sure each child in their small island nation had access to books.
Kristoff was not, which is why he’d laughed when she’d suggested he join the Board of Directors.
Enriching Children had started out to endow public school libraries, but had grown to encompass not just private schools, but libraries in private homes now. Thanks to Lady Marcia and a few other tireless workers, each child born in Aegiria was eligible to receive a box at birth containing a collection of children’s books ranging from toddler to school-aged, and could sign up to receive even more.
It was a noble cause, and utterly foreign to Kristoff, who hadn’t read a book since his last tutor finally declared him done with schooling, and who had a hard enough time with emails.
With a grunt of concentration, he swung from his one-handed hold to the next, the slap of skin against the grip releasing that satisfying little puff of chalk dust. Books. Ha. Why would people choose to read?
Better figure out how to get down. That was part of the fun, after all, and Kristoff knew himself well enough to know there was danger here too. He tended to hurry on the way down, so he forced himself to breathe deeply as he scanned for the next hold. It was unconscious on his part, this looking for the next step, the way to solve the problem. He could do this in his sleep…and it allowed him to focus on his bigger problem.
How to get Enriching Children the funding Lady Marcia needed, without donating directly and thus associating himself with them?
When Marcia had first approached him, she requested he consider Enriching Children as the beneficiary to that year’s annual Mid-Summer Regatta. Kristoff was on the planning board for that—well, of course he was, it involved boats, didn’t it?—and he was happy to promise his vote for that particular charity. It had happened that Enriching Children had been chosen, and it began the tradition of donating half the proceeds of the annual Regatta to a worthwhile charity—microlenders in South America, food provisions in Africa, and even a few smaller, closer-to-home charities. And it had all started because of Marcia’s suggestion to donate half the proceeds to charity.
But out of that meeting had been born the coolest part of the charity; now Enriching Children wasn’t just focused on books, but stuff Kristoff actually cared about: boating, swimming, even climbing. The charity had enough funding to sponsor programs to introduce Aegirian children to all the stuff he loved too.
And a few months ago, dangling one-handed from this same climbing wall, he’d had a brilliant idea: what about a camp? Someplace up around Mt. Viskan where he used to go with his family every summer…someplace where kids from all over the kingdom could go and learn to canoe and hike and sail on the little Sunfishes and poke at frogs and lizards? All the cool stuff he’d loved growing up.
The board of Enriching Children had loved the idea too, but after proposals, the price tag had been hefty. Kristoff thought about the letter with the final number he’d opened that morning. It was a lot of money.
Swinging down a few handholds, he had to grin. He was a prince, and he was rich. Not, like, filthy rich, but he could definitely endow the charity with enough money to build the camp. Man, those kids would enjoy it so much.
But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want the media to get wind of his involvement. He didn’t want to be bombarded with requests and interviews and—God forbid—accolades. He just wanted to be left alone to climb. And sail. And maybe sneak away to help some random kids poke at lizards. Lizards were cool.
So…how to make sure the kids got their camp, but without publicly donating the money himself?
Still six feet above the ground, Kristoff kicked off and dropped down to the mat, flexing to nearly a squat to absorb the impact. He straightened and rolled his neck, shaking out his arms and fingers.
“Whew!” He pulled the band off which had been holding his blonde hair up in a topknot, and shook his head wildly to let it fall down around his ears so he wouldn’t get a headache.
He needed to sit in the sauna, then take a shower. His muscles had been used well today, and he was glad he had his session with Gunnar scheduled for the afternoon. He would need it. And maybe Gunnar could help him talk through the problem of Enriching Children.
Kristoff scooped his towel up off the ground and headed for the locker room.
Cassandra tried to calm her frantic heartbeat with deep, even breaths and a few meditative mantras
. It almost worked, too. She bounced a little on the balls of her bare feet—she preferred to massage without shoes, so she could better connect with the energy around her—and shook out her hands.
In, out, one-two-three. In, one-two-three-four, out, one-two-three-four-five. In…
With her eyes squeezed shut, she finally felt ready. Calm. Prepared to step into that room off the locker room and inhale the lavender mist and exhale the negativity and put her hands on skin and muscles to work out the knots.
And whom those muscles belonged to definitely didn’t matter. Nope, nope.
Regardless off the fact that—Ohmigod! Ohmigod!—it was Kristoff in there.
No, no. Calm, Cassandra. Caaaaaaaalm.
Taking one last cleansing—calming, remember—breath, Cass pushed the door open and stepped into the little wood-paneled haven of serenity. And there was Kristoff, lying butt-naked facedown on the bed.
Caaaaaaalllllmmmm.
She exhaled, slow and steady, and forced her raging libido into check. I’m a professional. I can do this.
First things first. She stepped over to the table and draped a cloth over Kristoff’s butt. For her own sanity. Then she turned back to the door and reached for the switch to dim the lights even more. In doing so she knocked against a small table and the salt lamp teetered, but she made a grab for it, righting it before doing any damage. Unfortunately, the back of her hand caught the bowl of coconut oil and it skittered towards the edge of the table.
She caught it before it hit the floor, but not before spilling some on her arm, and cursing out loud.
“Gunnar?” Kristoff asked in a relaxed voice, like he’d been half-asleep before her clumsiness disturbed him.
Wait, did no one tell him she was a replacement? Of course, it wasn’t like this was one of her usual massages—Kristoff just had a standing appointment and Gunnar met him here in the palace.
Oh, shoot.
“Um, no…Your Highness.” She wondered if she should tell him who she was. Would that be super-awkward, or just unethical? “Gunnar is ill, and I was sent as his replacement.”
