The Wild Heir(32)

“Prince,” Harold greets me as I step inside, the bell ringing above my head. He doesn’t call me Prince Magnus, just Prince. Like the singer. Can’t say I mind.

Einar follows me in and gets a head nod from Harold. Usually he’s stationed outside or he finds a space at the end of the bar where he nurses a cup of instant coffee that Harold whips up for him, pretending he doesn’t know me.

Today only Maud and Guillermo are at the bar, sitting side by side.

“Where’s Slender Man?” I ask as I sit down next to Maud. Einar takes a spot at a booth, trying to blend in with the wall.

She barely looks at me. “Why do you call him that?” she asks in her hoarse voice, her long, crookedly glued-on nails tapping against her glass. “Slender Man.”

“Nothing you’d understand,” I tell her. I raise my finger at Harold. “Scotch, please, and keep them coming.”

“Won’t understand because I’m too old? I’m only too old now. I used to be young.”

“Just go back to your drinking, Maud,” I tell her as Harold hands me my drink. “I’m afraid Slender Man is too classless for you.”

She laughs and starts coughing. Though I’ve never seen her smoke I always get the feeling that she started as a baby and quit only yesterday. “Sometimes I have to remind myself of who you are,” she says when she recovers.

“I saw the press conference on the news,” Harold says, putting on the kettle for Einar’s coffee. “I can see why you need a drink.”

“Like he ever needs an excuse,” Maud says, and Guillermo giggles softly beside her.

“Hey, I come to this bar for your support,” I protest, finishing the rest of my scotch, savoring the delicious burn in my throat.

“You come here because we hassle you,” Harold says. “That’s what every good ruler needs, to be hassled from time to time by the people who care about you.”

“That’s what my parents are for,” I grumble.

“I remember when Ingrid left Petter for Roberto,” Maud says, waving her hands around. “What a scandal that was. She was thrown out of Hollywood for that affair. She didn’t work in the US for decades. All because she chose the love of Roberto over Petter. Now that was a scandal, but it was a scandal for love. You, Magnus, your scandal only cheapens you.”

Ouch. I clear my throat and slide my empty glass toward Harold. “I’m aware of that.” I take in a deep breath, knowing this is probably the right time to tell them about my news. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve met a wonderful woman and we’re getting married.”

They all stop and stare at me. I can even feel Einar’s eyes burning into the back of my head, and I have to wonder if he knows exactly what’s going on.

But even though things aren’t settled with Ella yet, the fact is I’m going to have to get married to someone and I might as well start telling people now if it’s going to seem believable at all.

“Married?” Harold repeats. “To the prime minister’s daughter?”

“Oh hell no,” I tell him, wincing. “Not her. A lovely blue-blooded woman that I think you’d all approve of.”

“What’s her name?” Maud asks. “Where is she from? Is she Norwegian?”

Shit. It’s harder than I thought it would be to be vague about this. I can’t exactly say Ella if it doesn’t end up being her.

“I can’t say too much,” I tell her with a wink. “You understand. I shouldn’t be talking about it at all with you, but I trust you guys.”

“Well, then,” Maud says, sounding impressed. “Harold, I think this calls for a toast. On the house, right? Our drunken prince here has fallen in love.” She gives me a rarely used smile, showing off a row of fake teeth. “I am so proud of you. You need any advice on marriage and you come to me. I’m an expert.”

“Because you’ve been married four times,” Harold says derisively, but he decides to grab a bottle of champagne from the fridge. “Though I do think this is worth making a toast about. Here’s our prince, overcoming his adversity by doing something completely adverse.”

“Out of flames and into the frying pan,” Guillermo whispers in broken English.

I laugh. If only they knew the half of it.

So Harold fixes us all a glass of celebratory champagne, plus the coffee for Einar, and we all say cheers to this sad, sorry state of affairs.

I spend a couple of hours at the bar and manage to behave myself, drinking a little less than I had planned. Just enough to calm my mind and give my brain a break from the constant flurry of thoughts.

I walk back to my apartment with Einar half a block behind me, and I’m almost at the secret entrance when someone steps out of the bushes.

Instinctively I raise my fist, ready to fight, but thankfully the alcohol has slowed my reaction time because it’s not a photographer or assailant at all but Heidi Lundstr?m, the prime minister’s daughter.

“Sorry!” she cries out softly, throwing her hands out. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t be leaping out of people’s bushes.” I glance over my shoulder to see Einar trotting up to me but give him a slight shake of my head to let him know it’s okay.