Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(28)

While she slept or tried to sleep, I packed the necessities, booked a plane using her usual charter company’s twenty-four-hour VIP hotline, and crashed for a few hours before I woke up in time to fetch us coffee and breakfast from the closest bodega.

We left the house just as the sun peeked over the horizon and rode to Teterboro Airport in silence. By the time we boarded the charter jet, Bridget was practically vibrating with restless energy.

“Thank you for arranging everything.” She fiddled with her necklace and shook her head when the flight attendant offered her a glass of juice. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not a big deal. It was just a call.” Nothing made me more uncomfortable than overt gratitude. In an ideal world, people would accept a nice gesture and never mention it again. Made things less awkward all around.

“It wasn’t just a call. It was packing and breakfast and…being here, I guess.”

“It’s my job to be here, princess.”

Hurt flashed across her face, and I immediately felt like the world’s biggest jackass. Way to kick someone when they’re down, Larsen.

If I were anyone but me and she were anyone but her, I would try to apologize, but as it stood, I’d probably make things worse. Pretty words weren’t my strong suit, especially not with Bridget. Everything came out the wrong way when I talked to her.

I switched subjects. “You look like you could use more sleep.”

She winced. “That bad, huh?”

And that’s why I need to keep my mouth shut. I rubbed a hand over my face, embarrassed and irritated with myself. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s okay. I know I look horrible,” Bridget said. “Elin, our communications secretary, would pitch a fit if she saw me like this.”

I snorted. “Princess, you couldn’t look horrible if you tried.”

Even though she looked more tired than usual, with purple smudges beneath her eyes and her skin lacking its usual glow, she still blew other women out of the water.

Bridget’s eyebrows shot up. “Was that another compliment, Mr. Larsen? Two in two years. Careful, or I’ll think you like me.”

“Take it however you want,” I drawled. “But I’ll like you the day you like me.”

Bridget cracked a genuine smile, and I almost smiled back. Despite my words, we got along fine these days, aside from the occasional argument. Our initial transition had been rough, but we’d learned to adapt and compromise…except when it came to her dates.

Not a single one of those fuckers had been worth her time, and they were lucky I hadn’t gouged their eyes out for the way they’d ogled her.

If I hadn’t been with her on the dates, they would’ve tried something for sure, and the thought made my blood boil.

I noticed Bridget’s eyes stray to the in-flight phone every few minutes until I finally said, “It’s best if it doesn’t ring.”

Prince Nikolai had promised to call her with any updates. There’d been none so far, but in this situation, no update was a good update.

She sighed. “I know. It’s just driving me crazy, not knowing what’s going on. I should’ve been there. I should’ve moved back after graduation instead of insisting on staying in the U.S.” Guilt washed over her face. “What if I never see him again? What if he…”

“Don’t think that way. We’ll be there soon.”

It was a seven-hour flight to Athenberg. A lot could happen in seven hours, but I kept that part to myself.

“He raised us, you know.” Bridget stared out the window with a far-off expression. “After my father died, my grandfather stepped in and tried his best to fill the parental role for Nik and me. Even though he’s the king and has a ton on his plate, he made time for us whenever he could. He ate breakfast with us every morning he wasn’t away traveling, and he attended all our school activities, even the stupid little ones that didn’t really matter.” A small smile touched her lips. “Once, he rescheduled a meeting with the Japanese prime minister so he could watch me play Sunflower Number Three in my fifth-grade school play. I was a terrible actress, and even my royal status wasn’t enough to land me a speaking role.”

My lips quirked at the mental image of little Bridget dressed up as a sunflower. “Starting an international incident at age ten. Why am I not surprised?”

She shot me a mock affronted look. “For the record, I was eleven, and the prime minister was quite understanding. He’s a grandfather himself.” Her smile faded. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him,” she whispered.

We were no longer talking about the prime minister.

“Things always work themselves out.” Not quite true, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

I really was crap at this whole comforting thing. That was why I was a bodyguard, not a nurse.

“You’re right. Of course.” Bridget took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. I don’t usually go on like this.” She twisted her ring around her finger. “Enough about me. Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

Translation? Distract me from the fact my grandfather may or may not be dying.

“Like what?”

“Like…” She thought about it. “Your favorite pizza topping.”