Crowning His Convenient Princess. Maisey Yates
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“Yes. Her family owns horses.”
He frowned. “That sounds like an awful lot of time spent at racetracks.”
“Would you not find that enjoyable?”
“No. I prefer my gambling to take place in a casino. It’s much more civilized.”
“All right. Bim Attah. She is a Nigerian heiress and UN ambassador for women’s rights. She has a PhD from Oxford, and has been instrumental in supplying feminine hygiene products to impoverished girls throughout the world.”
He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. “She sounds a bit overqualified, don’t you think? PhD. I’m not sure I’m equal to that task.”
“You have a title. I suspect that in many ways that outstrips a PhD.”
“One you are born with,” he pointed out. “One you must work for.”
She arched a brow. “Shall I take her off the list?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I feel nothing if not entitled to things that might be too good for me. Leave her on the list.”
She cycled through the rest of them quickly with Gunnar vetoing all but numbers one and three.
“Okay,” she said, sighing heavily. “I will attempt to arrange a meeting for you. Whatever you do, try not to be yourself when you meet them.”
“I never am,” Gunnar said. “Why, when there are so many other interesting people to choose to be?”
Latika gritted her teeth. “Why indeed.”
She turned away from him, and her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down and saw that it was an unknown number.
“Oh, don’t decline the call on account of me,” Gunter said. “There’s no need to worry about manners in my presence.”
“I wouldn’t,” she said, answering the phone decisively. It had nothing to do with her anyway. She worked for Astrid, and she couldn’t afford to miss any kind of communication just in case.
“Hello?”
“Latika Bakshmi.”
The voice was strange, low and husky, and something about the accent sent a familiar sliver of dread beneath Latika’s skin.
“Yes?”
“Check your email.”
The line went dead. Latika lowered the phone and stared at it, feeling like she lost herself for a full thirty seconds. She had no sense of where she was, or what she was doing.
Until she felt the intensity of Gunnar’s gaze on the side of her face. She looked toward him. “What?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve gone very pale.”
“No. A strange phone call. Likely a prank of some kind.” She tried to force a smile. In spite of herself, she swallowed hard and guided her thumb over the email icon on her phone.
She prayed that Gunnar didn’t notice the slight tremble in her hands.
She did indeed have a new email.
From an address she didn’t recognize. She opened the email, it had one line of text. And a photograph.
So there you are.
And beneath those words was a picture. Zoomed in tightly and cropped close. Latika could just see the edge of Astrid’s dress, and that gave her an indication of the event.
The wedding.
Astrid and Mauro’s wedding. Latika had been standing just behind the Queen, and she had been sure that she was not in any sort of limelight position. She had been with Astrid for nearly four years and never had been.
But they had found her. Finally.
She swallowed hard, fear like lead in her stomach.
The worst part was, it hadn’t been her parents who had found her. She was sure of that. Because while her parents would have happily hauled her away from her newfound life, they wouldn’t engage in this level of theatrics. That she knew.
They would still cling to the idea that this was all for her own good, for their own good as well, but also for hers. They would lie to her, lie to themselves, all the while using soft, soothing voices and telling her to think of the future.
No, this kind of threatening language was definitely the work of the man who was supposed to be her husband by now.
The man she had run away from.
The man she would rather die than find herself joined to.
Latika took a breath and put her hands down, holding her phone closely to her thigh.
“What is it?” Gunnar asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I will make the necessary inquiries, and make arrangements for you to meet these women. In fact, I think we will organize a ball.”
“A ball?”
“Yes. For all the eligible ladies in the file.”
“I said that I’m only interested in these two.”
“But why limit your options, Your Highness. You’re correct. The chemistry that you may feel with one of them is important to explore. Allow me to take care of it. I will handle everything.”
Her mind was spinning as she walked out of Gunnar’s office. On the one hand, creating such a spectacle around the country at this time was possibly unwise. But on the other hand… Well, on the other hand an event like this would necessitate an increase in security. And with so many eyes on the country, she imagined that Ragnar would be loath to attempt to take her now.
No, he preferred to do things secretly. In the dark of night, essentially.
His position as Norwegian nobility mattered far too much for him to go and create bad blood between himself and the Royals in Bjornland.
And in truth, Latika had counted on that. Always. When she had first come to Astrid for the job, it had been on her mind. The fact that Bjornland was politically involved with Norway, and that it would put Ragnar in a bad position should he cross the Queen, had mattered to her.
Because she needed protection.
The palace guards would provide it. The increased attention would provide it. She had to believe that.
The alternative was far too awful to consider.
THE ENSUING WEEK was a whirlwind. At least, it looked as though it were one for Latika.
Gunnar did nothing but sit back and enjoy the show.
Over breakfast one morning, Astrid commented on it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her work so hard at anything. And that’s saying quite a bit.”
“Yes, she has taken control of the task admirably,” he said, not rising to his sister’s bait. Because he knew there was bait. Even if he wasn’t sure what the hook buried in said bait was meant to drag him toward.
“Are you assisting her at all?” Astrid asked.
“Do you assist her in the planning of parties?”
Astrid gave him an icy look. “She is my assistant.”
At that moment, Astrid’s husband came into the room holding Gunnar’s nephew. It had taken Gunnar a time to accept his brother-in-law. He had not trusted the man at first, but then, given the way that his sister had met him, Gunnar