The Swedish Prince (Royal Romance 1)

But I’m still here. Lying on the hotel bed. A bed that’s made every day by Maggie McPherson. I’ve learned to go out to the lobby or into the town for a walk when she’s in the hallway with the maid cart, coming to clean the room.

It’s so damn weird, to be honest, to see her doing that role. It seems to diminish her. Not that being a housekeeper is anything to sneeze at but because it seems like such a constricting job choice for someone so dynamic. Maggie is smart and bold and strong and effortlessly funny. Here she keeps her head down. Cleans the rooms to meticulous standards.

Pretends not to know me.

That part kills me. I know why she has to do it. I know she’s afraid that the hotel will find out and have problems and fire her. I also know that it’s just something she’s doing to get by and that if she lost this job, she thinks she would lose everything.

But I don’t think she would lose anything, she would only gain.

I have a little fantasy that I keep to myself.

It doesn’t involve Maggie in her maid uniform, although that’s always a plus.

It involves me asking Maggie to come back to Stockholm with me.

To start over with her life there.

But that fantasy is as far-fetched as most are. That’s why they are fantasies and not dreams. Dreams are attainable. Fantasies are in another galaxy all together.

But in a fantasy, there are no rules and so you can imagine whatever you wish.

In mine, Maggie comes to Stockholm. With her whole family.

Everyone gets uprooted.

She lives with me in one of the palaces that I’m supposed to move into upon my return. The kids live on the other end of the property, attended by nannies and teachers and anything they need.

None of them will ever have to want for anything. They won’t have to struggle or worry. Their futures will be open, they’ll have all the money they need. There will be no guilt, just the security of knowing they will be taken care of for the rest of their lives.

And Maggie will be a queen.

Not at this moment but eventually.

A princess

Then a queen.

And she will rule (as much as a modern queen would rule), making the changes that are so sorely needed. Sweden may be one of the best countries in the world to live in with the best healthcare and education and social services, but there is always better work to be done.

The fantasy is so realistic it almost borders on a dream.

Except that it’s all crazy to even think about.

Maggie and I don’t know each other enough.

We aren’t in a relationship.

She would never come to Sweden for me.

I don’t think she’d go in general.

She’d never agree to pull everyone out of school to move them there.

It just plain wouldn’t work for a million reasons.

So I tuck that fantasy away, knowing that one day I’ll draw upon it and pretend it happened and feel, for once, that I’m living the life that I’m supposed to, a life that I want to.

But this morning, the fantasy is in full-swing. It won’t leave.

Maybe because last I finally kissed her.

It wasn’t that I found the nerve. It’s that I couldn’t wait a second longer.

The way she held me, the way she told me she understood, I felt it like I’d never felt it before. To be seen. To be heard. To have someone dig deep enough to try and figure out what you needed to hear, what you needed to feel.

What you need in every cell in your body.

I kissed her and it was like my whole life became condensed to that little flashpoint. Every kiss that came before was obliterated and every kiss that comes after will never measure up, so as long as it’s with someone other than her.

That kiss undid me in ways I didn’t see coming.

And so now I’m here, I’m sleepy and I’m yearning to have her in this room with me. I know she’s out there in the halls somewhere doing her job.

But grabbing her and pulling her in here and having my way with her won’t be enough. It’s not what I really need.

Always more, never less.

I get up out of bed and slip on my pajama pants and robe and then head out into the hall. It’s 9 a.m. which means she’s cleaning the third floor at the moment, so I make sure the coast is clear and then head up the stairs.

I look up and down the hall until I see a cart and then I quickly head toward it.

There’s a chance, of course, that it’s not her cart but I peek my head into the room with the door open and I see Maggie sorting out the curtains, the sun shining through them like clouds.

With her back turned to me, I sneak inside the room and wait for her to notice, a surprise much like the one where we first met.

She turns around and then opens her mouth to yell.

Thankfully no words come out.

I quickly stalk over to her and grab her, pulling her to the side of the bed so we’re just out of the line of sight from the hallway.

“God morgon,” I murmur to her in Swedish, one hand holding the back of her thin neck like you’d handle a delicate flower stem, the other hand slipping down to the small of her back.

Before she can protest, I kiss her softly on the lips, pulling back just enough to hear her protestations.

“What are you doing here, you can get me killed!” she hisses at me.

I smile, raising a brow. “Killed? Is that how it is in this country?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Fired. If I get fired, you’re paying for me for the rest of my life.”

Little does she know that’s something I would love to do.

“I have another proposition for you,” I tell her, my eyes drifting between the depths of her brown eyes and the peach sheen of her lush lips.

“Another interview?” she asks dryly, her eyes flitting to the door and back, her muscles tense.

I pull her over until I’m against the wall and I’m holding her to me. “Come with me to LA.”

She stares at me for a moment before her chin jerks back. “LA? Now?”

“Tomorrow,” I explain. “Or tonight. Come with me. The car is fixed, it’ll be an easy drive, we’ll get a hotel…”

I was hoping that last bit would pique her interest but her expression hasn’t changed.

“I can’t go to LA,” she says, shaking her head.

I ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. “Why not?”

“Because I have a job, Viktor,” she says thumbing at the collar of her uniform. “An actual job that I need in order to support everyone.”

I won’t be deterred. “Don’t you have vacation days in this country?”

“Yeah, we do, I do, but it’s so last notice.”

“Maggie,” I say gently, licking my lips, “you work six days a week. No human can keep that up in the long run. So not only are you owed this vacation but you need to take this vacation. It’s just a few days, regardless. Tonight maybe, Friday and Sunday. You have Saturday off, yes?”

“It’s such short notice,” she says again but I can see something in her eyes is relenting.

“But it doesn’t hurt to ask, does it?”

“But the kids. Who will take care of them?”

“Pike?”

“He works.”

“If you’re suggesting they come too, well, I know I sound completely selfish Maggie, but I want you all to myself. Every single inch of you.”

My hands disappear into the soft strands of her hair and I have to hold myself back from kissing her mid-sentence.

“I guess I could ask my friend Annette,” she says after a moment. She saws her lower lip between her teeth. It makes me fucking hard. I want a taste. “She always says she’ll look after the house and them if I wanted to go away for a weekend.”

I raise my brows and stare at her expectantly. “So then…”

She starts tapping her foot against the ground to some invisible drum solo as she looks around the room, thinking.

I let her think. I take a step back from her, giving her space.

Finally, she shoots me a worried, yet hopeful, glance. “Do you think I should?”

I grin and grab her arms, pulling her so she’s flat up against me. I press my hands on both sides of her face, holding her still, forcing her to look at me with those big beautiful eyes of hers. “We only have a few days together until I leave. And until I leave, I want to spend every single second of the day with you by my side. From the moment I wake till the moment I sleep.” I lean in and rub the tip of my nose against her, inhaling deeply. My eyes close. “I’m not going back home until I know what you feel like from the inside, until I’ve tasted every sweet inch of your skin.”

She stiffens under my grasp and when I open my eyes, her cheeks are tinged with pink. I’ve minded my manners, I’ve stayed noble, but when it comes to taking her in the bedroom, all of that is gone. I won’t be royal. I’ll be a savage instead.

“You drive a hard bargain,” she whispers and then bites her lip coyly when she realizes what she’s said.

I take her hand and press her palm against my cock, already thick and straining to escape through the button-up fly of my pajamas. “You have no idea,” I say through a groan as she grips me, cautious at first and then with an eagerness that makes her eyes shine.

“I have some idea,” she says, her words taking on this throaty, sexy voice that strips away another layer of refinement, so close to unearthing the rough, raw instincts inside me. “But we can’t do this here,” she says, shaking her head as if to shake some sense into herself.

She removes her hand and takes a step back from me and I grind my teeth together, fighting the urge to grab her and throw her on the bed. I don’t fucking care whose room this is.

But I don’t. I control myself.

I give her space.

“Ask,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “Please. Now.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “Okay,” she says in a quiet voice but I can hear a tinge of excitement in it. “Let me ask Annette first,” she says, quickly pulling out her phone and scrolling through her contacts.