5

For Cherry, Ruben put up with Tabary for a whole day. He smiled and nodded and feigned interest, and a couple of times he caught Hans giving him approving looks. Of course, his friend's approval was revoked soon enough. "Why are we hanging around in a school carpark?" "Does it matter?" Ruben shifted lower in his seat, even though the Hummer's windows were tinted. Not as dark as he'd like, but there were national regulations to be followed. Of course, he could always travel with a royal congregation and be exempt from regulations. But that would amount to pissing all over his last bastion of privacy. Children had begun pouring out of the Academy half an hour ago, but Ruben had waited. Next came a trickling of staff, and still he held off—because she'd asked him to. He'd like to go up to the admin floor of that monstrous tower and carry her down the damn stairs, but she'd insisted that he wait out here. Which was fair enough, he thought grudgingly. But the animalistic side of him, the instinct that had caused him so much trouble throughout his life, wholeheartedly disagreed. Fetch her. Now. It doesn't matter who sees. He ignored the voice inside his head and sank deeper into his seat. "Your Highness," Hans said.Ruben sighed. Coming from anyone else, that title suggested respect. From Hans, who'd been calling him Ruben forever, it signified an impending lecture. "Don't start," Ruben said bluntly, slipping into their mother tongue. His eyes scanned the car park. He felt slightly unhinged. Was he really so eager to see this woman again? Yes. Embarrassingly eager. Hurry up. "Your Highness," Hans repeated, firmly ignoring Ruben's words. As usual. "You know as well as I do that the king—" "Really, Hans? You think I want to hear about my brother right now?" "Fine. I was going to remind that the king will not bear another scandal, but that doesn't matter. You will not bear another scandal." Ruben stiffened. "Who said anything about scandal?" "Don't treat me like a fool. I know you're waiting for that woman." A spark of anger flared in Ruben's gut at his friend's derisive tone. But he controlled his temper, because he knew where Hans's concern came from. His friend was worried about him. And so he kept his tone carefully even, almost teasing, when he said, "Why shouldn't I wait for her? She's quite brilliant. Don't you agree?" "Oh, yes," Hans spat. "I agree. Blindingly brilliant. A sentient fucking trap—" "Shut your mouth." "You know she's just like your sister." "If she were just like my sister, I wouldn't be waiting for her. So shut. Your fucking. Mouth." Hans glared. "No. You didn't listen to me with Kathryn—" "Jesus fucking Christ," Ruben snapped. "First Sophronia, now Kathryn—who will you compare her to next? My mother?"

"Of course not." Hans frowned. "You misunderstand me. The problem is not so much the woman herself as it is your eagerness to… to make yourself vulnerable." "It's been eight months," Ruben reminded him. "Yes, it's been eight months. Barely any time at all. I remember exactly how bad it was, even if you don't, and I am worried about the possibility of something similar happening." Ruben snorted. "Something similar? I can't be exposed twice, Hans. That's the beauty of it. All of Helgmøre knows everything there is to know about me." His voice was as steady as always, but Ruben's heart thundered against his chest like a horse's hooves. For the first time in the last eight months, he'd been attracted to someone without thinking immediately of Kathryn. Of the mess she'd brought to his door. And Hans had to fucking ruin it. The man had his safety in mind, of course. But Ruben's desire to know Cherry—know her in every way—had been so pure. Free of suspicion and distrust and anxiety and bad memories. Now it was coloured again by past experiences. Now, when he thought of the power her beauty held, it felt less like something to admire and more like something to fear. Fucking Hans. Fucking Kathryn. Fucking life. "Ruben." Hans's voice was soft. "I don't mean to suggest that you shouldn't… return to normal. Pursue relationships. But you act without thinking." Wrong. Ruben thought. He simply thought quickly, simply, and decisively. He followed his instincts. And look where that got you the last time. He ground his teeth, meeting his friend's pale gaze for the first time. "I understand. But I cannot allow one bad experience to change who I am." That would go against everything he'd ever fought for. Everything he'd ever fought to become. Hans nodded. "Fair enough, old friend. Just… be careful. I promised the king that there would be no more scandals."

Ruben's jaw tightened. "She doesn't even know who I am. This is England, for Christ's sake. They have their own royals." "She seems a capable woman. I'm sure she'd figure it out on her own. And then—" Ruben held up a hand in the universal sign for stop. Hans, of course, ignored that crystal-clear signal and continued his speech. But Ruben didn't hear another word. She was here. She left the school gates with that familiar wiggling strut, her statuesque figure instantly recognisable. Ruben got out of the car and strode over to meet her. "Your Hi—Ruben!" Hans called. He sounded irritated, but then, he usually did. Ruben didn't give a shit. As soon as she saw him, Cherry smiled. Not the charming, dimpled grin she unleashed like a weapon, but something softer, almost involuntary. Her round cheeks plumped and her red lips curved, and Ruben allowed himself to imagine that she was as pleased to see him as he was her. "You're here," she said. As if anything could've kept him away. "Of course I'm here. Come on." He took her hand, trying to hide the way even that small touch affected him. Trying to act like it was normal, casual, when really he felt like cheering when she didn't pull away. "How was your day?" She slid her eyes over to his. "Are you trying to be all thoughtful and charming and whatever?" "I don't have to try. It just comes naturally." "Really," she snorted. But he saw the laughter dancing in her eyes, even if she wouldn't let it pass her lips. "Yes, really. I hope you're taking notes." They came to a stop in front of his car. The door was now shut —Hans's doing, clearly. Hopefully he'd let himself out while he was at it. Cherry might have figured out the bodyguard thing, but he didn't know how she'd react to sharing the back seat with one.

She stared at the car. Then she frowned, pursed her lips, cocked her head and her hips to one side. "Is that a Hummer?" She finally asked—with the same tone she might use to say, "Is that a cockroach?" Ruben raised his brows. "You don't like it?" Most women liked the Hummer. Why the fuck wouldn't she like the Hummer? "It's very…. large," she said finally. "Are you compensating for something?" He smiled. "I absolutely am not." Cherry's eyes slid down his body, bold enough to make his balls tighten. "You would say that, though, wouldn't you?" She murmured. "It's true. Get in the car, and I'll happily provide hard evidence." Her dark eyes danced. But her voice was serious when she said, "What about my car?" "I can have someone handle that for you." Her brows shot up, and too late, he realised his mistake: she didn't know who he really was. And she certainly had no reason to trust any of his staff with her car. But all she said was, "No, I don't think so." And then her face lit up. "Oh! I know what we'll do!" "What?" I'll do anything as long as it gets me where I need to be. Alone. With you. "We'll take my car," she said. "Someone can handle yours. Right?" There was challenge in her wry smile, in the soft kiss of those dimples. And that was so fucking sexy to Ruben, he didn't even think before saying, "Whatever you want." It was only when she led him to her old, rickety Corsa that he realised: Hans was definitely going to kill him for this.