A Nordic King(26)

“Oh, you see…” she says and then she quickly glances at the girls before taking a step toward me.

I take another step back.

She scoffs, making a face. “Do you think I bite or something?”

I suppose I am being rather ridiculous. “What is it?”

She takes another step and my shoulders stiffen, making a point not to move an inch. I can’t say why having her so close to me makes me uncomfortable but it might be both the fact that her breasts are nearly pressed up against me and that she smells like sunshine.

“I wanted to talk to you about the girls,” she says, lowering her voice and looking up at me through her long eyelashes. Dear lord, does she know how she both looks and sounds right now?

Aksel, focus.

“What about them? Are they alright?” I look over her shoulder at them and they’re back to feeding treats to their teddy bears and giggling happily.

“They’re great,” she says. “But every night at dinner they’re upset that you aren’t there. Maja tells them you’re busy and they understand but I really think it would mean a lot to them if you started eating with us.”

Oh.

I swallow, feeling like a dirty dishcloth. “I see. I didn’t realize that.”

“Maybe just a few times a week?” she suggests hopefully, gnawing on her full bottom lip for a moment. I’m just now noticing that she rarely wears any makeup, nor does she need to. The natural color of her lips is this rich, deep pink. “Your Highness?” she prompts.

“Huh?” I say, blinking, and then realize I must have been lost there. “Yes. No.”

“Yes no what?”

“I agree.” I raise my chin, clearing my throat. “I should be there. I’ve been busy with paperwork and some events, but I don’t have to attend every dinner I’m invited to and I can always do my work later.”

Aurora breaks into a smile. Jesus, why can’t I breathe?

I look away, focusing on the girls. “Hey girls, would you like that?”

I brush past Aurora, and the strange hold she has on me, and walk back over to the table.

“Like what, Papa?” Freja asks in her small voice.

“If I started having dinner with you more. I realize I should be there and I’m going to do what I can to make it happen more often.”

“Yay!” Clara exclaims while Freja gives me a deep, adorable smile.

“I’ll start tonight. Maybe it’s not too late to have Karla whip up your favorite dish.”

Clara frowns. “What’s our favorite dish? Macaroni and cheese?”

“No,” I tell her, and I can hear Helena’s voice in my head admonishing them for even knowing what mac and cheese is. “Roast chicken with cloudberries, bacon mashed potatoes and gravy.”

“No way,” says Clara while Freja wrinkles her nose.

“But you love that meal,” I tell them, confused.

“No. No chicken, no bacon.”

“No meat,” Freja says. “We’re veterinarians.”

“You’re what?”

“It’s vegetarians,” Clara corrects her sister and then lifts her chin at me defiantly. “We’re vegetarians now, Papa.”

“Since when?” I cry out. I glance over at Aurora hoping she’s got the same “they’re crazy” look on her face, but she’s looking down at the grass and biting her lip. The fuck?

“Since Aurora told us we could be,” Clara says. “And that is that.”

“That is that?” I repeat sharply. I grab Aurora by the arm and pull her away from the girl’s earshot. “What the hell is going on? My daughters are vegetarian now?”

She gives me a helpless look. “I’m sorry. It just came up.”

“It came up?”

“Well, it’s not like they’re vegans. Though there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that either.”

Fucking hell, what is wrong with this woman? I let go of her arm before I can grip it any tighter. “For helvede,” I swear. “You are not turning them vegan. They eat fish. We eat fish in this country and you aren’t taking that away from them!”

Aurora gives me a sympathetic smile, the kind of smile that makes me want to yell at her more. “It can’t do any harm.”

“Harm? Now Karla has to make two separate meals.”

“Or you could eat vegetarian,” she says.

“Are you even a vegetarian?” I cry out.

“No. But it doesn’t bother me that other people are.”

I shake my head, my jaw clenched. “Let me get one thing straight here, okay?” I growl, leaning into her so that the girls don’t hear. “You are their nanny. You are not their mother. Got that? You don’t get to make decisions like that. Those are my decisions to make.”

Anger sparks in her eyes, and I know she hates that I’m talking to her this way but frankly I don’t care. “You have to learn your place here in this palace,” I remind her. “You’re not part of the family. You’re just the help. You’re an employee of mine. And those girls there, those girls are not your sisters and they aren’t your friend. So, if you want to keep being paid to live in this house and do this job, you’re not to make any decisions like that without consulting me first. Got it?”