The Swedish Prince (Royal Romance 1)

I notice the whole bottom half of the screen is cracked. “You need a new one,” I point out.

She gives me a wry smile as she texts. “I need a new everything.”

From outside in the hall there is the sound of footsteps, the rustle of someone’s clothes as they walk. It reminds me of home, the way the officials stride down the palace hallways, always so full of pomp and business.

Her eyes widen and she pauses texting. She looks to me in fear and I quickly step into the closet, just in time for me to hear someone say sternly, “Maggie?”

“Yup,” Maggie says and through the slats of the closet I see her slip her phone inside her pocket. She walks over to the door.

“Are you still working on this room?” the voice, a woman, asks.

“Almost done.”

“Good girl,” she says and I can tell she turns to walk away.

“Wait,” Maggie cries out softly. “Juanita, I have a favor to ask you.”

A pause. “Yes?”

“I know this is such short notice but I’d like to use my vacation days and take the next two days off work.”

“What? Why, what’s going on?”

“I, uh, I have a friend who wants to take me to LA this weekend, just to give me a break. Since I haven’t taken any of my two weeks since I started working here, I figured I might as well before I get burnout.”

“I don’t have a problem with that, Maggie. I do have a problem with such incredibly short notice.” She sighs. “Luckily one of the housekeepers who just started has been asking for more shifts.”

“Oh thank you, thank you.” I can hear the smile on Maggie’s face which makes me smile in return.

It sounds like Juanita walks off and Maggie takes her time slowly walking back over to the closet. She brings out her phone and resumes texting.

“Can I come out yet?” I whisper.

She just smiles, teasingly, like she likes having me in here. Finally she sends through the text and then opens the door.

“Looks like you’re going to LA,” I tell her. I know she hears the joy in my voice, sees it right there on my face, but I don’t care. I’m not going to pretend that this doesn’t mean the fucking world to me right now.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she says nervously. She glances at the phone. “And I don’t know yet if Annette will go for it.”

“Is this the woman who helped you carry me from the bar?”

“That’s her.”

“She sounds like a good friend. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

At that her phone beeps and she glances down at it.

From the moment I first saw Maggie smile I thought she had the most sexy, innocent and joyous smile I’d ever seen but I’ve never seen it as big and pure as it is right now.

That smile is for you, I tell myself. No one has ever smiled for you like that before.

“She said she’ll do it,” she cries out doing a little dance.

I grab her by the waist and yank her into me, kissing her hard and quick on the lips. If I don’t get out of this room with her soon, there is going to be trouble.

“I’m going to start packing then,” I tell her, heading toward the door. “How much time will you need after work to get ready?”

“Maybe an hour?” she says. “Better make it two.”

“Okay, I’ll come get you at five,” I tell her. “We can get a bite to eat on the road.”

“Okay,” she says, her eyes dancing.

I poke my head out into the hall to make sure no one sees me and then head to my room to pack.

Originally I had made my reservations for tomorrow night at the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel, so I call them and move it up a day, securing one of their cabana rooms that overlook the pool. With Maggie with me, I’m pulling out all the stops to make this as memorable as possible.

Then I make an extra special secret request with the hotel, the kind of crazy thing that only a fool in love would do.

But I’m not a fool in love.

I’m not in love.

And I don’t think I’m a fool.

I don’t know what I am.

I just know that the woman of my dreams, of my heart, of my life, is spending the new few days with me. Just the two of us. And when I get on the plane on Sunday and fly back home, I want to make sure she never ever forgets me.

I know I won’t forget her.

The thought of having to leave her kills me a bit inside but I push it aside and get busy packing.

After I’ve checked out and spent the good portion of the day hanging out in the lobby of the hotel, reading a Swedish thriller that I’ve been flipping through for the last three weeks, I head on over to pick her up. I have to admit, it’s kind of bittersweet to say goodbye to this hotel. I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime already in this past week. I’ll especially miss their waffles.

I’m right on time but Maggie is already standing outside the house, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

She smiles broadly at me and then throws a wave over her shoulder to her family who are all gathered by the front door and runs on over to me before I even have a chance to turn off the engine and open the door for her.

She tosses her bag in the backseat and then gets in, arm poised and hanging out the window. She slips on her sunglasses and taps the dashboard.

“Let’s go,” she cries out happily.

“Your wish is my command,” I tell her, giving a quick honk at the house before peeling out onto the street. “You seemed ready to get out of there,” I comment as we cruise through the streets toward the highway.

“Oh yeah. Once it hit me what I was actually doing, where we were going…who I was going with, I couldn’t pack fast enough.”

“Do they care that you’re going?”

“The kids don’t care. April is probably jumping for joy, especially after last night. She thinks the cops threating Tito was all my idea of course, even though I was with you the whole time,” she pauses. “Pike wasn’t too happy about it.”

“I get the impression that he doesn’t like me. I was surprised he even helped me with the car.” In fact, all while he was helping with the carburetor I was afraid to turn my back to him, thinking he might try and whack me over the head with a wrench.

“He’s…distrustful.”

“What does he think I’m going to do?”

“I suppose he thinks you’ll take me to Sweden and I’ll never return.”

I swallow, feeling bricks in my stomach.

Would that be so bad?

“Wouldn’t that be something,” I say, trying to sound ever so easy going.

“Mmmm,” she muses. I have a feeling it’s something she would never even entertain. “I just can’t believe I’m going to LA.”

“You must have been before,” he says. “You live so close.”

“When I was younger, but I don’t remember it too well and you don’t really give a shit about LA when you’re a kid. I think we went for a wedding or something. All I really wanted to do was go to Disneyland but of course we could never afford to do that.”

“Well, I’ve never been to Disneyland either. I think we should go.”

She stares at me, her brows raised. I know her eyes under those glasses are wide and round and saucers. “You’re kidding me.”

I shrug. “Why not? There are no cows on the ice this weekend, Miss America. Only you, only me. And we can do whatever the fuck we want to do, starting right now.”

She laughs, loud and bright, a sound I feel will be burned forever in my head.

“Okay. First stop then is In & Out Burger in Lancaster.”

“In & Out?” I repeat. “That sounds kind of…lewd.”

“Well the taste is orgasmic, that’s for sure.”

“All right. First stop. Orgasmic burgers.”

She seems to get all quiet and blush at that.

Probably because she’s thinking the same thing I’m thinking.

Neither of us can wait for dessert.

Chapter Fourteen

Maggie

“So this is Los Angeles,” Viktor muses as the mustang cruises down the freeway, the valley disappearing behind us, the city opening up in front of us beneath a layer of smog.

Being it’s Thursday evening, there’s quite a bit of traffic, but we’ve managed to miss the worst of rush hour thanks to our stop at In & Out. I think I took too much pleasure in watching Viktor wolf down his animal fries, cheeseburger and chocolate shake. I don’t know where he puts it all, but it’s apparent now that whatever Viktor eats immediately gets transformed into muscle. A steak? He just added an eight pack to that six pack. Must be a Swedish thing.

We’re staying in Hollywood at the famous Roosevelt Hotel, right across from where the Oscars are held and the Gruaman’s Theatre (which now has a new name but old habits die hard). I know most tourists come to this area and that’s probably why Viktor picked it but even though I haven’t seen Hollywood first hand, I do live in SoCal and so I do know it’s a cesspool of human garbage and gaudy commercialism.

“Oh,” Viktor says as the mustang cruises down Hollywood Blvd, eyeing everything like he’s made a huge mistake. “I didn’t quite picture this.”

“What, the guy taking a leak on the Starbucks door, the woman across the street yelling at people, or Captain Jack Sparrow who seems to be fighting a saggy-assed Spiderman over a quarter?”

He nods as he takes it all in. “Yes. All of that.”

“Welcome to Hollywood,” I tell him. “May we never leave the hotel.”

“May we never leave the hotel room,” he says, glancing at me. Though there’s the telltale smirk on his lips, his eyes have taken on an edge. The kind of edge that makes my stomach flip.

I tried not to think about it on the drive down in case I was going to psych myself out, but there was no mistaking what this weekend was about. Yes, it was about hanging onto Viktor for every last moment that I got.