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That was weird, even for my sister, and she’s pretty fuckin’ weird. And she might be my favorite sibling, so I’m allowed to say it.
I switch my phone back to airplane mode and shove it in a drawer.
Staring out at the lake, I wonder what Flora needs to tell me and why it needs to be done in person. Perhaps I left too quickly. Maybe I’m letting life pass me by.
The mid-afternoon sun does that to me. I always feel as if the day is flying by too quickly.
As a rule, I don’t enjoy being cooped up indoors all day long, but with Stasi, I have enjoyed myself.
I go to her, where she sits on the sofa. She makes an adorable grunting noise when I finger her red locks, and her soft lashes flutter open. “What time is it?”
Her stomach growls.
“Time to feed you.”
21
Stasi
This man has forgotten that my hands work and that I can feed myself with my fingers and utensils.
“Open up,” he orders.
“Dirty,” I reply with a wink, but ultimately obey because I’ll never say no to Nutella on a cracker topped with a strawberry.
Apart from two glasses of red wine, we have assembled a cheese board for a nine-year-old, with sugary spreads, warmed chocolate sauce intended to pour over ice cream, and an array of salty crackers and sweet biscuits.
I take a bite, and notice the prince’s nostrils flare as he watches.
“You’re pretty good at snacks. I approve,” I tell him.
“You’re pretty good at eating them,” he says, his eyes drifting down to my neck and the skin of my breastbone that’s visible in my tank top.
He picks up a strawberry and, holding it by the stem, dips it straight into the jar of Nutella. When he pulls it out, the tiny seeded tip is smothered with a mountain of the stuff. I smile and take it in my mouth, and a hunk of the nutty chocolate goodness lands on my chest.
Sigurd growls, “Damn. That looks good.”
My nipples harden as his eyes rake over my chest and throat.
“Will you help me clean it off?”
“You’re supposed to be filling your belly, not tempting me with your feminine wiles,” he murmurs, his top lip curling in a half smile.
“You’re the one who smothered the strawberry straight from the jar.”
Sigurd takes another cracker, covers it with Nutella, and tops it with another strawberry, feeding it to me. The sweet cracker combined with the fruit and the cocoa is so delicious I might eat the entire spread.
“I can’t help it. My brother says I eat like I was raised by wolves.”
“Which brother?” I say, trying not to talk with my mouth full.
He thinks for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as if searching for an answer. “Both,” he says with a shrug.
The prince expects me to laugh at this, but I don’t find it funny. I reach for a Jaffa cake and break it in half. “I don’t think you were raised by wolves. I think you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.” He lifts an eyebrow as I feed one half into his mouth. “Even if you wanted me gone as soon as you met me,” I tease.
Sigurd closes in as he chews, planting a hand on the butcher block countertop. An average person would be looking for an escape, but I like being close to all this. The shoulders, the beard, the brawny chest. The scent of him. He overwhelms a room and makes me feel like his delicate flower.
“For the record, I wanted you gonebeforeI met you. When I saw you rowing toward me facing the bow, I knew I wanted you to stay.”
