Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(100)

Even if I left the office, he would still be there, haunting me.

The door opened, and I curled my hand around my knee to steady myself as Elin and Steffan walked in.

“Thank you for coming,” I said as Steffan took the seat opposite me. It was my first time seeing him in person since he’d agreed to the engagement.

He gave me a smile that looked almost as forced as mine felt. “Of course, Your Highness. We are going to be engaged, after all.”

The way he said it, I wondered if I hadn’t been the only one forced into this arrangement. He’d seemed eager enough on our first two dates, but he’d been distant and distracted since he returned from Preoria.

My mind flashed back to the tension I’d picked up on between him and Malin.

An awkward silence fell before Elin cleared her throat and pulled out her pen and notebook. “Excellent. Shall we start the meeting then, Your Highness? Top of the agenda is the timing and venue for the proposals. Lord Holstein will propose in three weeks at the Royal Botanic Gardens. It’ll be a good callback to your second date. We’ll tell the press you’ve been in regular correspondence while he was in Preoria so it doesn’t seem like the proposal came out of nowhere…”

The meeting dragged on. Elin’s voice blurred into a running stream of noise, and Steffan sat straight-backed in his chair with a glassy look in his eyes. I felt like I was attending a business merger negotiation, which I was, in a way.

Just the fairytale girls dream of.

“…your honeymoon,” Elin said. “Thoughts?”

Her expectant gaze yanked me out of the place I’d mentally escaped to while she droned on about media interviews and outfit options for the proposal.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We need to decide on a honeymoon location,” she repeated. “Paris is classic, if cliche. The Maldives are popular but getting too trendy. We could choose somewhere more unique, maybe in Central or South America. Brazil, Belize, Costa Rica…”

“No!”

Everyone jumped at my uncharacteristic shout. Booth’s eyes grew round, and Elin’s brow creased with disapproval. Only Steffan’s expression remained neutral.

“No, not Costa Rica,” I repeated more calmly, my heart pounding. “Anywhere but there.”

I would rather honeymoon in Antarctica wearing nothing but a bikini.

Costa Rica belonged to me and Rhys. No one else.

Bucket list number four.

Have you ever been in love?

No. But I hope to be one day.

Look up, princess.

A now-familiar burn pulsed behind my eyes, and I forced myself to breathe through it until it passed.

“It’s too soon to talk about the honeymoon anyway.” My voice sounded far away, like that of one speaking in a dream. “We’re not officially engaged yet.”

“We want to iron out the details as soon as possible. Planning a royal marriage and coronation in the same year is no small feat,” Elin said. “The press will want to know.”

“Let’s get through the proposal first.” My tone brooked no opposition. “The press can wait.”

She sighed, her mouth so pinched I worried it would freeze that way. “Yes, Your Highness.”

After an hour, the meeting finally ended, and Elin rushed off to another meeting with my grandfather. Edvard had been doing well after his hospitalization, but we hadn’t discussed Rhys or what happened in his office before his heart attack yet.

I had no issues with that. I wasn’t ready for those discussions.

Meanwhile, Steffan remained in his chair. His fingers tapped out a rhythm on his thighs, and the glassy look in his eyes gave way to something more somber. “May I speak with you, Your Highness? Alone?” He glanced at Booth, who looked at me.

I nodded, and Booth slipped out of the room.

Once the door shut, I said, “You can call me Bridget. It would be odd if we were engaged and you still called me Your Highness.”

“Apologies. Force of habit, Your—Bridget.” Discomfort crossed his face before he said, “I hope this doesn’t make things too awkward, but I wanted to speak with you regarding, er, Mr. Larsen.”

Every muscle tightened. If there was one person I wanted to discuss Rhys with less than my grandfather, it was my future fiancé.

“I won’t ask you whether the, uh, news is true,” Steffan added hastily. He knew it was. Rhys’s glower throughout our first date, the cracked flowerpot at the Royal Botanic Gardens, the day he ran into us at the hotel…I could see the pieces clicking together in his head. “It’s not my business what you did before our…engagement, and I know I’m not your first choice for a husband.”

Guilt warmed my cheeks. If we married, I wouldn’t be the only one trapped in a loveless union. “Steffan—”

“No, it’s fine.” He shook his head. “This is the life we were born into. My parents married for political convenience, and so did yours.”

True. But my parents had loved each other. They’d been lucky, until they hadn’t.

“You don’t love me, and I don’t expect you to. We…well, we’ve only spoken a few times, haven’t we? But I enjoy your company, and I’ll try my best to be a good consort. Perhaps this isn’t the fairytale love you may have dreamed of, but we could have a good life together. Our families, at least, will be happy.” Other than the twinge of bitterness coloring his last sentence, Steffan sounded like he was reciting from a teleprompter.