Tangled Games (Dating Games #5) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,9

she would. Wish I knew what she was thinking.

“When we land, we’ll have to face the media. According to Creed, there’s already a frenzy waiting.”

She nods, glancing out the window, nothing but miles of clear, blue sky surrounding us. “I guess this is one way of ripping off the bandage, so to speak.” She laughs under her breath, but it’s laced with anxiety.

To say she’s been apprehensive about being thrust into the spotlight would be an understatement. Despite her assurances that I’m worth the lack of obscurity she once craved, I didn’t want it to happen like this.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this, Nora. This isn’t how I’d hoped to introduce you to my world, my life.”

“I know.” She treats me to a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “If this past year has taught me anything, it’s that you’ll always be by my side. As long as you promise to stay true to that, we’ll get through whatever awaits us.”

“And I will. No matter what happens. No matter what people do to try to break us apart, I will always be by your side.” I bring her hand to my lips, feathering a kiss along her knuckles. “Promise.”

She swallows hard and repeats, “Promise.”

But regardless of our affirmations to one another, I still can’t shake the feeling that we’re about to set sail on unchartered waters.

That life as we know it is about to change.

That our love as we know it is about to change.

Chapter Four

Nora

My stomach is in knots.

I don’t want Anderson to worry any more than he already is, but I can’t shake off the unsettling feeling winding through me over what awaits me — us — when we land.

Is our love strong enough to endure the storm I sense brewing offshore?

Or will this life pull us into its riptide until we drown?

Perhaps I didn’t give this scenario the careful consideration it deserves. I’ve known who Anderson is from almost the beginning. Yet I haven’t been exposed to what he is. Not in this world. Isn’t that why I agreed to move here with him? To get to know that part of him, too?

Why do I feel like it’s all falling apart before I’ve even stepped foot in Belmont?

“Those are the canals I told you about.” Anderson’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He nods toward the window.

I follow his line of sight, peering a thousand feet below as the plane grows closer and closer to the ground. Everything is green and vibrant, small canals lining historic, brick buildings. Exactly like I pictured his home country and the capital city of Montrose.

“Wow,” I exhale.

It doesn’t matter how many times Anderson has shown me photos of what is now my new home, or the multitude of images I’ve looked at during another online search. Nothing could have prepared me for how beautiful it is. How different it is from the hustle of the concrete jungle we left eight hours ago.

“What do you think?” he asks. “She’s a sight, isn’t she?”

The love he has for his homeland is clear in both his tone and the small smile that tugs on his lips as he admires the ground below us. It’s the look of a man coming home. The same one my father bestowed on me whenever he returned from deployment.

“It’s gorgeous,” I tell him. “So…European.”

He chuckles, brushing a soft kiss against my knuckles. “Good thing, because this is part of Europe. There are countries besides England and France, you know.”

“I know.” I roll my eyes playfully before looking back out the window. “But this is different. It’s old, charming. And I’m only seeing it from up above.”

“I can’t wait to give you the grand tour.”

“Me, either.”

He peers down at our intertwined fingers. “Have you read up on the royal family at all?” he asks after a beat.

“Not really. I know a little, but I’m not like Chloe, who can write books about your family’s history.” I laugh nervously. “Hell, she probably knows more about your family than you do.”

“Probably.” He pauses. “Do you know how my father came to be king?”

“I assume because your grandfather passed away. Isn’t that how these things work?”

“Usually. Although in Belmont, there’s a tradition for the king to voluntarily abdicate around his sixty-fifth birthday. But you’re right. My grandfather did die. However, my father was only supposed to be ‘the spare’.”

I tilt my head, brow furrowed. “The spare?”

“It’s an unspoken obligation in the family. You need to have an heir and