Page 94

Bridget
I wasa mess of nerves for the rest of the week. I tried to hide it, but everyone noticed—Rhys, Mikaela, my family. I blamed it on stress, but I wasn’t sure anyone believed me.
I didn’t tell anyone about the video. Not yet. The sender hadn’t contacted me since, and my replies to their email all bounced. I convinced Nikolai and Sabrina’s security team to sweep their house for bugs as a “preventative measure,” but they didn’t find anything, not even in the library.
It should’ve made me feel better, but it only put me more on edge. Whoever the sender was, they could move in and out of one of the city’s most highly guarded buildings without being detected, and that wasn’t good. At all.
My top suspect was Andreas, but he wasn’t the type to hold back. If he had a damning video of me and Rhys, he would hold it over my head. Taunt me with it. Probably blackmail me. He wouldn’t send it once and not follow up again for almost a week.
He’d looked for me at the reception—I still didn’t know what for, as I hadn’t seen him since the wedding and he hadn’t contacted me—but that was while Rhys and I were in the library.
If it wasn’t Andreas, who could it be? And when would the other shoe drop?
Because there was another shoe. I was sure of it.
“Something’s bothering you,” Rhys said on our way back to the palace from a charity shop ribbon-cutting ceremony. “Don’t tell me it’s stress. It’s not.”
I mustered a weak smile. “You think you know everything.”
I should tell Rhys. He’d know what to do. But a small, stupid, selfish part of me was afraid of what telling him would do to us. If he found out someone knew about us, would he withdraw and break things off?
If I didn’t tell him, though, the video could blow up in our faces, and I’d lose him anyway.
My head ached with indecision.
“I know everything about you.” Rhys’s words rolled over me, deep and confident.
Just tell him. Get it over with like ripping off a Band-Aid. Otherwise, the secret would hang over my head for God knew how long, like a guillotine waiting to strike.
Before I could broach the subject, however, the car stopped. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts I hadn’t realized we were heading away from the palace instead of toward it.
Rhys had parked on the side of the road, next to a forest on the outskirts of Athenberg. I’d camped there once with Nikolai in high school—under strict supervision, of course—but I hadn’t been back since.
“Trust me,” he said when he noticed my confusion, which only increased as he led me through the forest. A clear trail snaked between the trees, so other people must’ve taken the shortcut, even though the forest had a main entrance with a gift shop and parking lot.
“Where are we going?” I whispered, not wanting to break the reverent hush blanketing the trees.
“You’ll see.”
Cryptic as always.
I sighed, equally annoyed and intrigued.
Part of me wanted to tell him about the video now, but I couldn’t very well ruin the mood before I saw the surprise, could I?
Excuses, excuses, my conscience whispered.
I ignored it.
When we arrived at our destination, though, I couldn’t hold back a small gasp. “Rhys…”
We stood in a clearing, empty of everything except for a large, beautiful gazebo. I didn’t even know the forest had a gazebo.
My heart pinched at the clear callback to our first time together.
“If we get caught, pull rank.” Rhys held out his hand. I took it and followed him inside the wooden structure. “We’re pretty far from the main trail though, so we should be fine.”
“How did you find this place? You’re like the Gazebo Whisperer.”
He laughed. “I planned on hiking here sometime and studied the trail maps. The gazebo isn’t a secret. Most people are just too lazy to come all the way out here.”
“Why…” I trailed off again when he fiddled with something on his phone and soft music filled the air.
“We never got to dance at the wedding,” he said simply.
“You don’t like it when I dance,” I half-joked, trying to hide the emotion welling in my chest.
What happened in the library during Nikolai’s reception would forever be etched in my mind.
“I love it when you dance. But only with me.” He placed his free hand on the small of my back.
“You don’t dance.”
“Only with you.”
The burn intensified. “Careful, Mr. Larsen, or I’ll think you actually like me.”
His mouth curled into a grin. “Baby, we’re way beyond like.”
The butterflies in my stomach exploded, and a sweet, golden warmth filled my veins.
For the first time in days, I smiled.