down. My gaze slides to the event planner, who is staring at us as though we’ve just ruined her life.
Erik sits down beside me. “Your highness,” he says, nodding to me.
I narrow my eyes at him and adjust my dress. I continue to smile as there are camera flashes about every five seconds. But inside, I’m seriously pissed off at Erik. He is definitely high up on my shit list for the things he said yesterday.
I freeze him out, turning ever so slightly away from him. He casts a skeptical glance over me.
Then I hear the actress on his other side introduce herself in a whisper. I force myself to continue smiling and lean forward so that I can see her around Erik.
“He’s in trouble,” I say, smiling brightly. “Please don’t talk to him.”
The starlet’s eyes go wide but she just nods. Erik shoots me a glare. But before he can say anything, the music starts blaring.
He shifts in his seat, watching as the models begin to work their way down the runway. I keep up my end of the bargain, applauding politely at every single model.
Privately, I’m not paying a single bit of attention to what’s going down the runway in front of my face. But Grissel doesn’t need to know that. And I still want her to make me ten designer dresses for next season…
A few minutes into the fashion show, Erik shifts his weight, pressing his thigh up against mine. My eyes widen just a bit.
It’s probably an unknowing move on his part, but holy hell. The warmth of his big body radiates, heating my exposed skin.
I look down at where our bodies are pressed together, distracted beyond reason. Why is this the most erotic thing that’s happened to me all week?
I stare at the spot where we touch. For some odd reason, all I can think of just now is Erik moving his hand to my thigh and inching up my dress.
I lick my suddenly parched lips, a rush of memory hitting me. Now I can remember exactly why I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity.
Suddenly the house lights go up. Everyone around my is rising and applauding Greta von Grissel, who traipses down the runway looking like a mythical goddess in a flowing dress of her own design.
I rise and clap too, wondering where the last twenty minutes went. Did I really spend them fixating on how good Erik’s thigh felt when it was pressed against mine?
The designer bows. The paparazzi swoop in, shooting photos of us famous people.
“Can we get a shot with you and Greta, your highness?” one man calls.
“Who is your escort, your highness?” a woman asks.
I blanch. “Thank you, everyone! I have to go, unfortunately.” I lock eyes with the designer, gesturing to mimic a phone. “Greta, I’ll call you!”
And with that, I turn, raise my head, and sweep out of the room. Bodyguards fall in around me once I step outside of the ballroom.
Another of Erik’s decisions, I bet.
By the time I climb into the back seat of the limousine, I’m furious. I pluck the tiara from my hair and run my hands through my strands, pulling out bobby pins and wrecking an entire morning’s worth of effort.
Erik climbs into the backseat beside me, glancing at me as I irritably pull bobby pins from my sinuous mane.
I avoid his green-brown gaze, my brow hunched as I glare at the seat in front of me.
“What is wrong with you?” he asks.
I snort. “Believe it or not, I’m still pretty damn mad at you.”
He exhales loudly. “Is this about yesterday?”
I glare at him. “Yes.”
I gather all the bobby pins into a fat bundle, toying with them.
Erik grunts. “I’m sorry I said… whatever is making you upset.”
“Agh!” I moan, sinking down in my seat. “The fact that you don’t even know what made me mad, but you apologized anyway… that makes me angrier.”
He laughs, a humorless sound. “This is insane. I can’t keep up with you.” He shakes his head. “You know what? I think this is still about how I rejected you on the beach.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please. Like I can’t have whatever or whoever I want, whenever it pleases me. I am the only fucking princess of Denmark, you know.”
He glares at me. “Maybe that isn’t good enough for you. Maybe you have some… some fixation on me. Forbidden fruit and all that.”
I look at him, shaking my head. “Actually, you aren’t explicitly taboo to