A Nordic King(64)

And yet everything has changed.

Still, I aim to keep that lightness in my heart. I refuse to let my thoughts get too serious, refuse to have anything diminished.

How often do people get to feel like this?

I want to hold the feeling close to my chest and never let it go.

I practically skip around the room as I get ready for the day, unable to keep from giggling and smiling and blushing at what happened.

The taste of his lips.

The feel of his back beneath my hands.

The way he went from sweet and poetic to rough and passionate.

That probably surprised me most of all, seeing that wild side of Aksel, a man I couldn’t imagine letting loose before.

But now I know better and yet I still think he was holding himself back with me.

The thought of what he could have done makes the heat flare up between my legs, makes me ache inside for him. Now that I know what it’s like to almost have him that way … I want nothing less. The bruise on my shoulder is a constant reminder that my boss actually bit me, just before he was about to fuck my brains out.

Yet, I’m still the nanny with a job to do, so I do my very best to keep the dirty thoughts at bay and just get on with the day. I take Clara to school with Freja coming along for the ride, then I play with Freja and Snarf Snarf as we teach the pig how to shake a hoof, then I read some stories to her.

I don’t see Aksel at all because he’s out on business somewhere and I don’t want to admit that every time I thought I heard him come home, my pulse skipped a few beats, only to be disappointed when I saw it wasn’t him.

But as the day wore on, I stopped being disappointed.

As the day wore on and the darkness of the never-ending winter felt too encroaching and I grew tired, my mind started to latch onto other things.

Negative things.

It’s my nature to try and push that shit out of my head.

But something was starting to bother me.

It slowly grew, bit by bit.

The fact that last night, Aksel called me into his office under the pretense of firing me.

Or perhaps it wasn’t a pretense at all. Maybe that was his plan.

Maybe I somehow won my job back and proved to him I was worth keeping.

They’re dumb thoughts to think and not in line with the Aksel that I know, but the fact is, he did try and fire me, and somehow, after we kissed, after we almost fucked, I got my job back.

I mean … what the fuck was that all about?

“Are you okay?” Freja asks me. I realize I’ve been tossing her toys into the toy box with a little too much anger.

I give her a fake, sweet smile. “I’m okay. Do you know where your father went today?”

Freja just stares at me blankly because why on earth would she know if I don’t?

“Maybe he’s buying me a present?” she asks hopefully in that small voice of hers.

Oh brother.

Later, around dinnertime when Aksel still isn’t back, I’ve let the angry thoughts morph into something made of flames and fire, just stewing over it all.

How dare you do that to me? I want to yell at him. Why did you do it? To get a reaction?

Is he that shitty and immature? He’s fourteen years older than me. Is that really a game that men like him play?

Though lord knows men don’t ever stop playing games, no matter their age.

When dinner is over I tell Maja I’m taking my break.

I also tell her I’ll be in my room and I wish to speak to Aksel in private, whenever he comes home.

Maja is no dummy, and while I don’t think she suspects anything happened with us last night, she can tell that I’ve been in a foul mood for the latter half of the day, so she agrees without asking any questions.

It’s nearly nine, past the girls’ bedtime, when I hear voices from somewhere in the palace.

I’m already lying back on the bed in my boxers and t-shirt, half-asleep, half-waiting, when there’s a knock at my door.

In a second, all the anger rushes through me, and a million rehearsed arguments I had for him in my head all start competing with each other to be the first ones out. I grab my robe, tie it up tight as if it will somehow be a force field against him, and then march on over to the door.

Aksel is on the other side, his hand raised, ready to knock again.

Stupid bastard is so handsome I nearly forget why I’m angry.

“How are you?” he asks simply. As if last night didn’t happen at all.

My eyes flare and I pinch my lips together, gesturing stiffly to the room, for him to come in.

His forehead creases in surprise, probably not getting why I’m acting like this, but he walks on in anyway, looking around him furtively as if he’s stepped into a trap.

I shut the door and turn to face him, my fists clenching and unclenching.

He sees this and then glances at my face warily. “What’s going on? Sorry I wasn’t around all day.”

“You’re an asshole,” I say. Wow. I didn’t expect that to be the first thing out of my mouth, but there you go. I never had a filter, why start now?

“Excuse me?”

I think half the fun of insulting Aksel, other than he deserves it most of the time, is that it really bugs him since no one else talks to him this way.

“You fired me last night.”

“I didn’t,” he says glibly. “Remember? I told you that you weren’t.”