A Nordic King(78)

“Oh, so strange. Why would he do that? He killed his wife.”

I shrug and let out a sigh. “Well, it was an accident. But I don’t know. I would say that guy is the only downfall of working here. I’ve asked Aksel more than a few times on why he’s here, but I get what I think is a whole bunch of bullshit instead. Who knows.”

“He’s not creepy to you, though? This butler.”

“Not at all. I mean, I don’t like him, but he stays away from me for the most part.”

Although the few times when Nicklas has approached me and Aksel was nearby, Aksel practically chased him away. This happened even before Aksel and I were together.

And Aksel happens to be our last stop on the tour.

Because it’s Sunday and it’s the evening, I know just where to find him.

He’s in the living room, in his usual chair, drinking brandy. I had told him twice already that Amelie was coming, hence why I was actually using my day off. I normally would just march right over to him, but since I’m supposed to be the mere nanny and he is a King and this is my supervisor of sorts, formality rules.

I clear my throat loud enough for Aksel to hear it.

“Pardon me, sir,” I say, and he turns in his seat to look at me, brows raised. “But I have a guest here to meet you.” I look to Amelie but her cool French fa?ade is cracking and she’s frozen in her tracks. “Amelie, this is His Majesty, King Aksel of Denmark.”

Now, I have to admit, it never stops being fucking cool that I get to introduce him this way, even if I am just one of his staff members.

And it definitely doesn’t stop being amazing that at night, I’m the one who gets to share his bed.

Of course, I can’t tell her that.

Aksel gets to his feet, even though I know he’d rather stay in his chair by the fire, nursing his drink. Past a certain hour, he says he really likes to ignore the whole “king” part of his life, like he’s off-duty with unionized breaks.

Amelie is still a statue of herself, so I grab her hand and lead her over, like I would Clara or Freja.

He shoots me a bemused look, the kind of look that makes him look younger, carefree. I’m seeing that look from him more and more often.

I like to think it has something to do with me.

He sticks out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Amelie.”

When Amelie still doesn’t do anything but gawk, I take her hand and put it in Aksel’s.

He shakes it and only then does she kind of respond.

“Oh, hello. Oh, oui, Your Majesty. Désolée! I am so sorry, I do not know what happened there. Perhaps I lost my mind.”

“It’s quite alright,” Aksel says and then looks to me. “I completely forgot that she was coming today.”

“That’s because your brain has been elsewhere these days,” I say.

And that’s because all the blood that normally goes to his brain has been redirected to his Danish dick. Not that I’m complaining.

He nods at the chairs. “Do you girls want to join me?”

“Phhfff,” I say. “Girls? Ladies you mean.”

Now it’s Aksel’s time to scoff. “If you say so. The French one seems all right, but I’m still not sold on you.”

“You are sold on me,” I remind him. “You pay my salary.”

It’s then that I realize Amelie’s gaze is ping-ponging between us. “I don’t mind staying here,” she says. “We don’t have to go out.”

“Yes,” I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from Aksel. “Because you’ve made such a big deal about it, we do.”

“You can find men another day, no?” she asks.

Shit. My eyes laser onto hers. She wasn’t supposed to mention that, and she especially wasn’t supposed to make it look like it was my idea.

“Find men?” Aksel repeats, voice hard.

I glance at him warily, trying to give him the she’s crazy look with my eyes, but I’m not sure he’s picking up on it.

“Oui,” Amelie says. “Men. Like yourself, or perhaps less royal. Single, though. You don’t expect Aurora to become an old maid working for you, do you?”

Aksel’s gaze is as sharp as an icepick. “No,” he says after a moment. “I wouldn’t.”

Oh, for crying out loud.

“We’re just going out for a drink,” I assure him. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“But it’s your day off, no?” Amelie says, tilting her head. “You’re allowed to stay out as long as you want. He isn’t the boss of you.”

“Technically I am,” he says gruffly, back into full-frowning mode. Yeesh. I’m going to have to spend a lot of time untangling this mess.

“Yes, but it’s her day off, and according to the Danish labor laws, you have no say over it,” she says.

“But I make the Danish labor laws,” he argues, narrowing his eyes.

Amelie doesn’t care. She shrugs. Whatever effect on her he had has worn off and she’s back to being blasé. “Hmm, no, that would be the prime minister. Sorry, Your Majesty, but I look out for my client first and the King of Denmark second.”

She grabs my hand. “Come now, darling, let’s go paint the town rouge.”