The Wild Heir(66)

“Magnus?” I say.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs. He’s standing by the side of the bed, one hand resting on the edge of the mattress, inches away from my hip. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Oh,” I say, swallowing the sleep in my throat. “I slept that long.”

“I guess you needed it.” A long beat pauses. I can hear him breathing, hear the pulse of blood in my head. “I’ve been giving you space, Ella. But I’m over it now.”

“Over it?” I manage to say.

He nods. “I let you do what you needed to do and think what you needed to think. But now it’s time for my needs.”

Am I dreaming? What is happening?

“What needs?”

Do I want to know?

“We both know what tomorrow is. We both know I gave you space and left you alone so you could make your decision. But I’ve been tired of waiting for you to come around, tired of waiting for you to make up your damn mind.”

Is he kidding me? “Make up my damn mind?” I tell him, anger coursing through me. Suddenly I’m more awake than ever.

I sit up. “I know you’re used to things being handed to you on a silver platter and doing whatever the fuck you want, but I’m not. This is a big deal, okay? For Christ’s sake, I’m only twenty-two, Magnus! One day I’m trying to figure out how I can get my flatmates to like me and whether I can get an A or an A+ on a test, the next day I have to consider becoming the Princess of Norway. Marriage wasn’t even on my radar before you came along! How do you expect me to—”

“I’m not going to marry you.”

His words hit me like a fucking bomb, shrapnel lacing my heart.

“What?” I eke out, unable to breathe.

“I’m going to marry someone else,” he says, so swiftly, so glibly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, as if he’s not obliterating me right now. “You can’t make up your mind and that’s your answer right there. I’m going to go try my luck with the Princess of Belgium instead. You’re off the hook, Princess Planet. Go back to your other life.”

Then he turns and starts walking to the door.

I don’t know whether to burst into tears or attack him.

I decide on the latter.

“You fucking asshole!” I yell at him, springing out of bed and running over to him, shoving him against the wall.

Well, attempting to shove him. He’s built like a tree and those roots don’t budge.

“You piece of shit!” I scream, banging my fists into him. “You, you…”

“Shitbag?” he offers, and I swear he’s smiling.

“That doesn’t even begin to explain what you are. You’re scum. You’re a fuckface. You’re whatever swear word Einar said the other day.”

“You jacked off my grandfather?”

“What? Oh my god. That was what he said? No.”

He reaches out and grabs my wrists, holding them with an iron grip. “I told you I like it when you get nasty with me.”

“Fuck you!” I yell, and I’m pretty sure I’m spitting in his face. In the dim light, it’s hard to tell. “You played me! You used me! You told me lies, you made me think you wanted me!”

My god, he looks absolutely delighted that I’m screaming at him. Where the fuck does he get off, well, getting off on my anger?

“Ella,” he says calmly. “I’m just making the decision for you.”

“I need to make it myself!”

“Actually, you think the ball has been in your court this whole time, but the ball has been in mine. You think I was waiting around to find out if you’d say yes or not? I was waiting around to find out if you were worth marrying or not.”

I stare at the ground, collapsing under the weight of this all.

Oh my god. He doesn’t think I’m worth marrying. I’m not worth anything at all. Once again, I’m kicked to the curb, I’m sent off, I’m…

I think my heart is breaking.

“And you are,” he adds simply.

My head flies up. “What?”

“You are worth marrying, Ella,” he says.

I blink at him rapidly. “I don’t understand. You just said you were going to go marry the Princess of Belgium.”

“I’m pretty sure the Princess of Belgium is sixty years old,” he says. “And while I do like my older friends, I have to draw the line somewhere.”

What the fuck?

“I don’t get it. Why would you say all of that to me?”

“Because I wanted to get a reaction out of you.”

“You ass!” I try to punch him in the chest again but his hold on me is too strong. “A reaction? You almost broke my heart right there.”

Even in the shadows, I can see his features soften. “Then isn’t that your answer?”

He’s got me. He’s completely got me there.

To think of him leaving me and marrying someone else, it nearly broke me just now. So why on earth could I have ever imagined leaving him? Was it because for once I wanted to be in control, to have the power I so often wish I had? Was that my way of asserting myself when it comes to him?

“Look, Ella,” he says, letting go of my hands and cupping my face, making me feel cradled and small. He peers at me intently, his eyes glinting. “The situation hasn’t changed, but we have. Maybe this wasn’t how we saw our lives going, but right now, I can’t think of it going any other way. I know you have your reservations and you’re entitled to them. I have mine too. I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks and I know we’re not in love. We’re barely in like. But I do know that I want to do this with you and I can only hope you’ll do it with me.”