of another pile of books, biting my lower lip hard as I turn around.
“Pippa, I don’t need to sit down,” he says, grabbing my hand. His touch is electric. When I glance up at him, his blue gaze sears me through.
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you need?”
He smirks a bit, pulling me a little closer, making me look up into his face. From this distance, a hair’s breadth away from our bodies touching, I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“I need a favor.”
My forehead creases. My mouth turns down just a bit at the corners. This is what he does, what he has always done. He uses his charm, knowing quite well how smoothly hypnotic his presence can be. I’ve seen him do it to hundreds of women in the years that I’ve known him.
Usually he doesn’t use it on me, though.
I pull out of his grasp, moving back a half step. My frown grows deeper. “What is it?”
His expression grows intense. “I need you to pretend that I have asked you to marry me and you have said yes.”
I swear, I don’t mean to laugh. But it bubbles up from deep within my chest and bursts out of my lips, a snort of disbelief and a surprised chuckle all at once.
“What?” I ask, the word coming out strangled.
He squints at me. “I slept with the wrong diplomat’s daughter.”
I fold my arms across my chest, trying to slow my racing heart. “Again? How many times do you have to get caught before someone banishes you from the whole country of Denmark?”
His gaze tightens on my face. “It’s really not funny. Stellan has threatened to strip me of my title and have me kicked out of the RAF. Obviously, I don’t want that.”
A low throb starts at my temple. I rub it with one hand, staring at Lars. “And this has what to do with me, exactly?”
He steps closer, snagging my free hand and bringing it to rest against the hard wall of his chest. “I need a fake fiancée. Momse told me today that unless I settle down and get married, I’m going to have to join the military.”
My breath freezes in my lungs. My mind races, immediately going to what the creepy, trench-coated Ms. Olson said.
If you're smart, you'll position yourself to be his future spouse.
Lars leans in, almost close enough to my face for me to think he’s about to kiss me. At the last moment, he turns his head, whispering in my ear.
“Breathe, little witch. Don’t look so scared.”
His breath is warm against my ear, fanning against my overheated skin.
I won’t melt against him. I won’t.
I push my cheek out with my tongue, forcing my brain to quit pining. Shaking my head, I push myself back and look at him.
“What is stopping you from finding the right girl?”
Someone royal. Or at least someone without the… let’s call them complications that my history presents. I know very well the list of reasons why Lars can’t be tied to someone like me.
I’m a fraud.
I’m a fake and a liar.
I’m not who I say I am.
And someone is already blackmailing me over an opportunity just like this one.
And that’s only the beginning of my troubles if anyone finds out.
He gives me a wicked little grin. “You’re saying I should sign my death warrant, then? Because that’s what being told that I have to get married feels like. I don’t want to be tied down. I don’t want to be smothered. I just want to keep living like I do now.”
I shake my head. “Lars, really—”
He wiggles his brows. “What if I told you that I would bankroll whatever project you asked me to? I know that your work has been a drag lately. So do this: be my fake fiancée for a little while. And in exchange, I’ll pump as much money into you starting your own magazine or whatever you want.”
My eyes widen. Lars grins at my expression. “You know you want to, Pippa.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Lars.”
He slides his hands down my back and pulls my hips against his. My breath catches in my chest as I gaze up into those pretty blue eyes of his.
This. This feeling, this energy crackling between us?
It’s the reason we don’t normally allow ourselves to touch, even casually.
I’m this close to pushing up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his.
Arching a brow, he utters the magic words. “I really need this. Please,