hers pierce me. She’s wearing a blue skirt and a cream top that make her eyes seem to pop. “Pippa, I presume.”
“Momse,” Lars cuts in. “You promised to be nice when I let you meet Pippa.”
She touches the back of her silver hair. “Did I?”
He lets go of my hand. Before I can do anything else, he slides his arm around my waist and tugs me into his side. “Do we have to do this fifth degree business? Can’t you just be happy for us, Momse?”
Momse raises her chin. “How are we to know that she is really the girl for you, Lars? If she’s really your fiancée, that is.”
Lars bristles. “She is what I say she is.”
I cut in, trying to lessen the tension. “We went to the palace jeweler and got a nice ring.” I lift my left hand, showing the ring off.
The expressions mirrored back to me are confused. One tall, gray haired gentleman clears his throat.
“It’s very… nice. Very tame,” he allows.
I frown. This man, who probably has never worked a full day in his entire life, thinks my ring is too small?
“The diamond costs what a new car would cost. I don’t need or want anything larger.”
Lars’s grandmother shoots us an unreadable smile. “Very sensible of you.”
Lars squeezes me close. “Pippa is nothing if not sensible.”
Momse narrows her gaze on us, not impressed. “So it’s to be a marriage between friends then, is it?”
My eyebrows fly up. “What?”
“No, we… we love each other,” Lars declares, his hand on my waist flexing.
I know suddenly what I must do. Turning to Lars, I smile sweetly.
“They want to see us kiss, darling,” I say.
There is a flash of puzzlement across his face before it’s replaced with resolution.
“Ah.” He smirks at the crowd. “You want a show?”
Without warning, he dips me backward, pulling me into position for a kiss. My hands come up to his chest and I am about to protest.
But before I can utter a word, Lars zooms in and presses his lips against mine. For a second, I am lost in the sensation of the kiss.
His lips are hot. My whole body tightens at that. When he opens his mouth to me and I do the same to him, he tastes like clean mint and a hint of champagne.
My hands curl in his lapels. My eyes drift shut. I wish it were possible to get closer to him; if we were alone, I would definitely quantify the feeling I have as distinctly horny.
Lars slides his hands down from my waist to my ass, making me giggle. I open my eyes, staring deep into his…
He grins at me, a smile that promises naughty things to come.
For a relationship that is fake, this is starting to feel dangerously real. Every time he so much as touches me, it’s the kindling to my body, lighting the match to my soul. Even while I know in my gut that it’s not fucking real, it feels too good to be fake.
I stare into his eyes, trying to find a similar emotion in those cool blue depths. What does he feel?
Someone across the ballroom drops a glass, making me cringe. And that’s when I remember that the rest of the world still exists. I redden, looking at the people watching with wide eyes. Momse clears her throat and shifts her stance.
“Yes, all right,” she says, waving a hand. “I’m satisfied for now, Lars.”
He is quick to physically separate us, laughing a little. It sounds fake to me, but then again, I’m in on his big secret.
The sound of a glass being gently rung with a knife cuts through all the noise. “Everyone!” Stellan calls out. “If you would find your places at the table, I’d like to say a few words.”
Momse shoots Lars a last look before turning away and moving toward the head of the table. I exhale a shaky breath. Lars grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“What do you say we try to sit far away from my grandmother?” he asks.
I nod, moving away from that end of the table. “She’s very direct and intense.”
His lips quirk. “Indeed.”
We find two seats at the end, far away from his grandmother, and listen to Stellan talking about how lucky the people gathered here should feel.
And I do feel lucky, moreso than most of the royals. But I watch Lars out of the corner of my eye, wondering.
Was that kiss merely for show?
It didn’t feel like I was faking anything.
Then again, I’m