He backs off and I turn my attention back to Heidi. She’s not wearing a coat, just jeans and a very low-cut sweater that shows off her ample cleavage. Her face is done up with more makeup than I’ve ever seen on her, her red hair styled in waves around her face.

She’s more hot than pretty and just the right amount of inhibited and crazy in bed. But my instincts have never steered me wrong, and I have a feeling she’s just as crazy outside the bedroom. Hence the fact that she seems to have been stalking me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her, giving her a tight smile before I look around to make sure no one is coming up the street. Wouldn’t that be the million-dollar picture.

“I know,” she says quickly, taking a step toward me and grabbing my arm. Her breath smells like peach schnapps. “I wasn’t sure how else to reach you.”

“You used to text me,” I remind her, not sure that I like her holding on to me.

“You haven’t responded to my texts,” she says, a hint of sharpness to her tone.

She’s right. She has texted me a lot over the last week and I’ve seen them and ignored them. I’m not the best at texting people back in general, but I was making sure I wasn’t touching Heidi again with a ten-foot pole.

And yet here she is, in the dark of night, hanging on to my arm outside the entrance to my apartment. I hadn’t even shown her where I lived—we always went to her place to screw—but somehow she found it.

“I don’t think it’s wise we text each other,” I tell her, taking a step back so that her hand falls away, “let alone see each other.”

“But I need to talk to you,” she pleads, her face crumpling.

I don’t handle crying chicks very well. They’re my kryptonite. But I straighten my back and resolve to stay strong, no matter what she does. It was her crying when I broke up with her that led us into this whole mess. “So talk. And make it quick.”

She frowns at that. “That was kind of rude.”

“Well, you did just ninja jump out of the bushes at me when I was about to go home, aaaaaaaand it was your idea to film a sex tape and it was your phone that somehow got hacked into, so yeah, sorry if I seem a bit rude but I’ve had a hell of a week.”

Her eyes get all wide and twitchy. “You think this is my fault? You don’t believe me? My phone was hacked, Magnus. It wasn’t just that sex tape. There were a ton of naked photos of me on there that got shown to the public.”

“You have a great body, so what do you care?” I tell her, looking over my shoulder and nodding at Einar. Not for him to do anything, just for him to kind of stand-by in case she becomes a stage-five clinger.

“You really think I have a great body?”

I look back at her, frowning. “What? Yeah. Sure. Look, Heidi, what we had was fun until it really fucking wasn’t. Now it’s time for us to part ways and never speak again. For real.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she sneers. “I could ruin your life, you know.”

I tilt my eyes skyward. “Right. What else could you possibly do?”

“First of all,” she says, shoving her finger into my chest. At that I know Einar is making his way over, because it’s pretty much against the law for anyone to touch me in a threatening manner. “I didn’t do anything. I was hacked. Okay? Second of all, you are an asshole. Everyone knows it. Third of all, you’re going to die alone.”

I tilt my head at her. “You know, telling the Prince of your country that he’s going to die, whether alone or not, can be seen as a threat. If I really was an asshole, I could lock your sorry ass up right now.”

“Oh really?” she says, withdrawing her finger and crossing her arms. “I’m sure that will fly when my father runs this country. You’re from a monarchy that has no power. Sure, everyone loves you and you get all the prestige and attention and the validation, but my father is the one who runs this place.”

Validation? That was an odd choice of words. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” she says and then grabs her head, starts tugging at her hair. “No. Magnus. We had something. Don’t let what happened ruin that. It’s been hard but no one understands me the way you do and no one understands you the way I do.” Her arms drop and she steps toward me, her eyes glistening, looking hopeful. “Being in the public eye, being judged. Feeling like people don’t see the real you. I get that. I live that. You shouldn’t give up so easily.”

Oh boy. There’s only one way out of this.

“I’m not giving up easily,” I tell her, just as Einar joins my side. “I’ve met someone else.”

She blinks at me for a moment before it hits her. I can tell she wants to explode, but Einar tenses up and her eyes go to him and she knows she has to hold it together. She hisses, “You what?”

I nod. “I’ve met someone else. Fallen in love. She’s swept me right off my damn feet.”

“You’re a liar,” she says. “You’re a liar and an asshole.”

I shrug. “You’ll find out soon enough,” I tell her. “When we get married and it’s all over the news.”

Then I step back out of the way while Einar steps between us, his hands out, ready to move her. “You have to go, ma’am,” he says gruffly.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she says, shuffling backward and turning away from Einar’s reach. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you know who I am?”

Einar just stands there, arms crossed, and I’m more than grateful for his formidable silent type persona right now because it hints at how lethal the man can be. I mean, I’ve never seen it myself, but my father has told me stories and he certainly plays the part.

At any rate, Heidi takes heed. She turns and walks away, swaying slightly, until she disappears around the corner. I feel a twang of pity for her. I know from the few dates we went on that she’s a little lost, neglected by her father, obsessed with notoriety and attention. But my pity doesn’t stretch that far. I’m still not convinced it wasn’t her that leaked the sex tape to the press.

Satisfied that Heidi won’t be returning, Einar turns around and gives me a nod.

“Back in Tromso, we had a name for women like her,” he says gravely. “A barnacle.”

I laugh and slap Einar on the back. “If you say she’s a barnacle, she’s a barnacle.”

“What would you call her?” he asks.

I think for a moment. “Psycho hose beast.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t heard of that one,” he says. “But I must say it fits.”

The next morning I’m woken up with a call from my mother.

“She’s coming today. I need you here in thirty minutes,” she says.

I rub the heel of my palm between my eyes and groan. “What are you talking about? Who? What time is it?”

“The time? It’s time for you to grow up,” she says sharply. “Why on earth are you sleeping until ten o’clock? Half the morning is gone already.”

I sigh and roll over, trying to wake up. I don’t think I slept very well. Running into Heidi right before I went to bed was bad timing.

“Who is coming?” I repeat.

“Princess Isabella of Liechtenstein.”

“Okay, first of all you don’t have to say her full name every time. And second of all…what?”

My mother gives an overblown sigh I can practically feel whistle through my ear. “She’s coming over. She and her lady.”

“To Norway? So she said yes?”

My heart is already racing. The fear is real.

“Not exactly,” she says after a pause. “She said she has a lot to discuss with us. Negotiations. It’s to be expected, I suppose. I’m not sure you made the best impression on her so you better not screw it up this time. If you don’t win her over, I don’t think she’s coming back.”

My mother is right. I know I didn’t leave a good impression on Ella and I don’t know why I was so surprised that she didn’t want anything thing to do with marrying me when she normally would never give me the time of day.

But winning her over sounds like a rather tall order.

Doesn’t mean I won’t try.

“Okay,” I tell her, swinging my legs out of bed. “I’ll come right over.”

“Oh, and Magnus. Do shave. And do something with your hair. This isn’t the medieval ages and you’re not a Viking.”

I grumble something and hang up. I’m not sure if this outing calls for a suit again but because I’m expected to make a better second impression, I pull out a black suit anyway, no tie (lest my mother be outraged). But I don’t touch my hair. I run an electric razor over my beard and raze it down to stubble, but I refuse to be clean shaven.

That will have to do.

Soon, Einar is pulling in through the palace gates and Ottar is trying to rein in his curiosity. I told him he should come since negotiations sometime involve paperwork, and paperwork is my nemesis. I think he’s just overjoyed to be involved in this thing anyway he can be.

Ella won’t arrive for another hour, or so my mother says, so that gives us time to gather in the sitting room and fret.

Actually, I’m not the one fretting. My father is upstairs taking a nap, though I’m assured he’ll be down later. Mari is at school, so it’s just my mother, Tor, and her lawyer, Sigurd, and of course me and Ottar.

My mother is pacing back and forth, dressed to the nines in a bright fuchsia silk pantsuit, and I can see where I at least get some of my fidgeting tendencies from.

“Princess Isabella might try to play hardball with us,” she says.

“I would assume so,” I tell her, watching her go back and forth. “There isn’t much for her to gain here.”

She stops pacing and faces me, shock pulling back her face. “Are you serious, Magnus? Nothing to gain? She would become a princess and eventually a queen. The queen. She’ll take my place.”