Chapter Twenty-Five

I have an iced latte in my hand as I walk up the street toward my apartment building. It might be my last for a while because that sucker cost seven bucks, and I'm about to beg my mom for a job baking cookies while I regroup. It's going to be a while before I find another job in production. If I ever get another. I should be more upset about that, but I'm honestly feeling okay. It's a little like Galadriel in the Lord of the Rings movies. I got tempted by something evil and turned away, and now I can go with the other elves to the western lands and do whatever they do in the western lands. Probably not work as a production assistant. The point is, I was tested and I feel like I passed.

Righteousness, though, won't keep me in lattes. I've got some money saved up, but I suspect Joe's going to clobber me in edits. He'll start making promos where I'm the good girl gone bad, and soon I'll have an invite to House of Villains or something. Reality TV is about to come seriously calling, and I'm planning on ignoring it all.

I'm likely going to lose my tiny apartment and I'll be back at my mom's, but there are worse things that can happen. She could live in Jersey, for example. She could still be married to my dad. I decide I can handle being cooed over by two women who know how to cook for a while until I find my feet again. Harper and Ivy will be there, too. I'm not alone.

Maybe I'll ask CeCe for suggestions. She's been the bad girl of the finance world for a long time, and she seems to love it. Of course I suspect the whole bad-girl rep is easier when you're a billionaire and a competent woman of whatever age CeCe claims to be. I would never argue with her. If she says she's thirty-five, I'm going with it.

I turn down my block and notice there's a limo outside the door and a man in uniform rummaging around the trunk. Huh. I didn't know there was anyone in my building who could afford a limo ride, but good for whoever.

My cell trills and I glance down at it. Harper. I've got my hands full of purse and latte and treats to go along with the latte, so I decide to call her back when I get upstairs. As soon as I start to slip the phone back in my pocket it rings again.

I stop and check the screen. This time it's Ivy.

Okay, so something's happening. Or they want to know how my meeting with Jessica went. I gingerly balance the latte and my bag of snacks from the bakery—Danishes are the best breakup food—and manage to answer the phone with one hand. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Thank god," she says in a rush. "Anika, you need to get down to Times Square. Something's happening."

Like I'm buying that. "We don't go to Times Square. We avoid it like the plague."

I'm serious about that. I skip right past midtown whenever I can. It's a mob of tourists and ticky-tack shops, and yes, all the mega screens are super cool at night, but it's not worth the forced intimacy with three thousand people I do not know. Although the world's largest Olive Garden is tempting.

Don't judge me. My ancestral food is salted fish.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the limo driver stepping onto the sidewalk, though he's left the trunk open, so I guess he's waiting on his client. I hope the poor dude doesn't get stiffed. It would be exactly like one of my neighbors to pull a prank. I want to tell him this neighborhood isn't the place for limos, but Ivy's talking again.

"I'm serious, Ani. Get down here. One of the networks is about to run something on the big boards. Some kind of story about Luca. I got a text from a guy Heath knows in the newsroom," Ivy says.

I sigh. "Well, I'm sure I'll hear about it. I'll check their website."

The last thing I need is to watch some promo story about Luca's final four on the big screens, my humiliation shining bright for all the tourists to see. I can be humiliated in the comfort of my own home, thank you very much.

"Ani, you have to come down here." Harper seems to have taken the phone. "I'm serious."

"And I'm serious about drinking my last latte," I shoot back. This is some kind of prank to get me in a better mood. "Guys, I'm fine. I don't need a pick-me-up. Though if you want to grab some breadsticks and come over and watch TV, I would be up for that." There is one person in our community who hasn't yet had the chance to console me. "Or I can cry a lot and ask Lydia to make us some ziti."

"Now that is not a bad idea," Ivy says.

"Hush," Harper chides. "Anika, I'm not joking, and this is not some consolation surprise. You need…"

That's when someone walks up behind me, wraps an arm around my waist, and starts hauling me backward. Right there on the street. It's everything people outside of the city fear. You know those stories moms tell their daughters to keep them far from the scary city. Don't go to New York or they'll kidnap you right off the street and you'll be carrying a latte that you really wanted and it's going to fly out of your hand while some asshole drags you…

…to his limo?

"Hey," I start to yell. I might have dropped my Danishes and my latte, but I keep that phone firmly in my hand. If I'm going to be murdered and chucked in the Hudson, I'm taking this phone with me.

"Calm down," a deep, strangely familiar voice says. "I've been waiting here forever. This is tradition. In you go."

Hans? I realize that Hans is the one in the limo driver's uniform, and he's hauling me up like I weigh nothing and dropping me into the trunk. Which is weirdly furnished. I catch sight of soft blankets and a bunch of pillows, and I smell lavender. Like someone tried to make sure the trunk smells fresh, and the murder victim has a smooth ride before dying.

"What the hell, Hans? What are you…" I'm so shocked that I let him get a hand on the door to the trunk.

"I told you. It's tradition," he replies with a grin that I think he meant to be cheeky, but it's more like he's going to enjoy murdering me. He needs to work on making his expressions more humanlike.

"What is happening?" I hear coming from my phone.

"Relax, please," he says right before he slams the door shut. "Ich habesie. Ich bin unterwegs."

"Hey!" I kick at the top of the trunk. "Use your English words, Hans. What the hell is going on?"

"Ani?" Harper's voice comes over the phone.

He's a terrible kidnapper because he's left me my phone, and I'm using it against him. I bring it to my ear as I feel the driver door open and shut.

"I need you to call the police. Hans just kidnapped me and threw me in the trunk of a limo," I say, trying to feel around my new prison. "I think Luca wants him to murder me or silence me or something."

"Uh, he kidnapped you but he left your phone?" Ivy asks.

"I guess they don't have Dateline where he's from. He's not good at this," I shoot back because she is missing the salient point. I am being driven to my… I don't honestly think Luca means to murder me, but this could be some kind of play to get me to shut up.

The limo starts to move, pulling away from the curb.

Did anyone look up from the native New York game of pointedly not noticing other people or anything else going on around them long enough to witness my kidnapping? Or did they simply shrug and move on?

I bet someone got my Danish. I wanted that Danish. I bet a rat got my Danish. They're fast, and they know a good thing when they see it. They're city rats, and according to a recent study there are three million of the suckers living in the city, so I'm probably right.

I'm panicking, and I need to focus.

"Calm down, sweetie." Harper's voice is soothing over the line. "Something is going on. Ivy and I got texts thirty minutes ago telling us to come to Times Square, and there are a whole bunch of cameras here. Like a small crew, and I recognize them from the show. I thought the crew was going to Europe."

There was crew in Times Square? "They are. They should have left days ago. But Jessica said Luca didn't show up on the set today."

"I think he might be here," Harper says. "Though I haven't caught sight of him. Something big is going down because they've blocked off a huge square. There's police and everything."

What the hell is going on? And why is Hans going so slow? I twist in my comfy prison, and something soft caresses my cheek. Are there rose petals strewn all over the trunk Luca's had me kidnapped in? "Hans! What the hell is going on?"

"Hold please," Hans barks.

"We're not on the phone, asshole," I shout back. "And if you're trying to take 9th, don't. I don't care that the Internet says it's two minutes on a good day. There are no good traffic days in the city."

The car swerves as though he's taking my advice. Two minutes my ass. More like half an hour, and you'll be lucky to get there in one piece because the streets are a Mad Max fight between the yellow cabs and the Ubers. Which is why I walk.

I put the phone back to my ear. "What is going on?"

"I don't know, sweetie," Harper replies, "but I don't think he's trying to shut you up. If I'm right, this might be a grand gesture fit for a king."

"It better be groveling fit for a king," Ivy grouses. "I mean it. I better believe that man or he's going to get the full-on hacker treatment, and I might sic Lady Buttercup on him. I know she's small, but that little bitch can bite."

I force myself to relax because it's obvious I'm not going anywhere, and Hans seems to be moving this train along now. "Why would he come back? He didn't finish the show. The show was the most important thing in the world to him."

"I tell you why he does what he does." Hans's voice is clear and unmistakable even though I'm stuck in the trunk and there's a whole stretch limo between us. I hear him say something in German I don't understand. "Why are you so surprised?"

"Because you told me he was going to sacrifice me."

"No, I tell you that sometimes to win the game the king must sacrifice the queen," he replies.

He is so rewriting history. "That is not what you said, and even if you did, I got the message. I didn't understand it at the time because you're so cryptic. If you're going to warn a girl she's about to get her heart stomped on, you should say it plainly."

"I see you." Ivy sounds excited. "At least I see a limo and it's got flags on it. Like the ones heads of state use. The police are waving it in. What is even happening right now?"

"I say this as plainly as I can. Any Ralavian would have known exactly what was going to happen," Hans says without a hint of sympathy in his voice.

"Well, I'm not Ralavian," I shoot back but my heart is starting to thud in my chest because the limo slows, and I can hear the crowd all around us.

The limo stops, and I feel the door open.

It's a mere moment before the trunk swings up and I blink in the sunlight. Hans stares down at me. "I hope when you are, you will learn to be more logical. This is my king's gift to you. Alles Gute zurVerlobung."

He helps me climb out of the trunk, and I don't need the phone anymore because I see Harper and Ivy behind the police lines. I look to Hans. "I don't know what that means."

For the first time I can remember he smiles at me, a look of pure amusement. His eyes light with mirth, and he bows before me. "You will, meineK?nigin. Watch the boards. I think you will find them illuminating."

"Ani, tell them to let us through!" Harper yells.

I look and the policeman is waiting for me to say yay or nay. Like I have some power here. I nod and he allows my friends through as the big board changes and a network news anchor comes on.

"This is crazy." Harper holds my hand.

Ivy's lips turn up. "I think this is going to be one hell of a grovel."

"Big news from the set of the Pinnacle production of the reality dating show The King Takes a Bride," the well-manicured news anchor says. "Hollywood will surely be up in arms over the revelation that acclaimed director Joe Helms has been caught admitting to sexual misconduct."

My jaw drops. What has Luca done?

"We have exclusive outtakes of the hour-long conversation between Helms and Reginald Lucannon St. Marten, the king of the tiny country known as Ralavia. It's apparent to this reporter that Helms didn't know he was being recorded. The king was involved in a sting operation to hold the director to account after an incident on the set led to one contestant leaving and a production assistant being fired."

My eyes are wide as the scene changes and there's Joe sitting in a luxurious seat, a glass of Scotch in his hand. Which is funny since he recently left rehab. It's obvious they're on a private jet and the camera is set up behind Luca, but I recognize his voice.

"But, why, Joe? You could find a willing partner. Why would you force that young man?"

Joe's eyes roll. "He wanted it. Yeah, I know he said all the right things, but what you have to remember about men like Patrick is they are always playing games. So I play with them. I wouldn't touch a woman in his position. Way too dangerous, but you know how it is."

"I think I know what it means to be placed in a situation I don't want to be in," Luca says.

"I assure you he wanted it no matter what that little bitch says. Now he'll be paid handsomely to keep his mouth shut, and she will, too." Joe takes another drink.

"I don't think Anika will back down. I think Anika will fight you."

I feel tears roll down my cheeks. He did this for me. All of it. He's putting himself and his plans at risk, and he couldn't have done it if he hadn't cut me. If he hadn't done what Joe wanted, there's no way he could have gotten him talking.

"She'll lose." Joe waves a hand. "Women like her mean nothing in this business. Relax, Luca. You're going to get everything you want out of this. No one expects you to actually marry any of these idiots. It's all for show, and they'll move on and settle for whatever chumps they can get to marry them and no one will remember their names."

The feed cuts back to the anchorman. "But apparently the king has no intention of forgetting Anika Fox's name. He does, however, hope she will change it."

I turn and the crowd parts, and I see Luca standing in the middle of the pedestrian walkway that cuts through the center of Times Square. He's dressed in a military uniform, looking more stunning than I have ever seen a man look. There are thousands of people around us, but in that moment he's the only thing I see.

"He didn't sacrifice me," I say, my eyes holding with his.

"Only for a moment," Hans says. "Only so he could give you what you need, my queen. At least I hope you'll be my queen."

"That's a good grovel." Ivy Jensen of the cold-heart clan, as she calls it, is crying. "It is acceptable."

"Tell me you're going to say yes." Harper's got tears in her eyes, too. "I mean if you're not going to, we'll get you out of here but this is some next-level shit here, Ani."

I turn back to my friends. They should know better. "Be my maids of honor."

I'm already running to him when they shout back.

"Always."

I don't care about the cameras or the people. I don't care that we're standing in the epicenter of my country and everyone is watching. All that matters is him.

He smiles and proves he knows me because he braces himself, his arms coming up to catch me as I throw myself into them.

I wrap myself around him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

I breathe again because I am home.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "I know I should have walked away the minute they came to me, but it wouldn't have helped Patrick."

I squeeze him tight. "You did great, babe. You did perfect."

He sets me down and there's a somberness to his expression as he steps back, and I realize my mom and Tonya are standing at the front of the crowd.

My moms. I should have called them that all along since Tonya's always been there for me.

"By all the traditions of Ralavia…" Luca starts.

Oh. He sounds super serious and this is an important moment, but I am who I am and everyone should get used to it. "Babe, is that why Hans threw me in the back of a limo? He wasted a good latte, and somewhere the Internet is waiting for the appearance of Danish Rat."

A smile splits his handsome face. "Yes. It's from our Viking ancestors. Almost no one does it, but it's now a tradition among royals in Ralavia. Hans should have explained it to you."

"Hans needs some lessons in communication."

"Can I continue?" he asks, but there's nothing but pure joy on his face.

I nod. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest.

He drops to one knee. "Anika Christina Fox, will you marry me? Will you stand beside me and all the people of Ralavia as queen?"

I'm going to be snotty and red in the face in all the pictures, and I don't care. I manage a nod because words won't come.

He might never say the words I love you, but it's there in his actions, in his willingness to put me first, to trust me with his precious country. I'd been told that words can lie but actions never do.

Unless someone bungles the heads-up he was supposed to give a girl.

Luca rises to his feet and hauls me into his arms, kissing me right there in the middle of Times Square as the crowd erupts in cheers. So they're tourists and that's a good thing because if he was doing this in the middle of Brooklyn, they would congratulate us and tell us to move it along because they have places to be.

But this is a slice of fantasy, and everyone seems to love a royal wedding.

He cups my face and puts his forehead to mine. "I love you, Anika."

"You don't have to say it." I have everything I need from him.

"I do. I was afraid of it, but this feeling, this beautiful space you fill inside me, I think this is love," he admits.

"I love you, Luca," I reply.

My mom and Tonya surround us, and then Ivy and Harper join the group hug, and even Hans seems a little moved.

I stand in the center of my universe, and I don't need a crown. I'm already a queen.