Page 225 of Twisted Royals

“What?” I say, confused.

“Dan’s ID. From that first night. When you were about to leave with him, he let me take a photo of his ID. You know, for safety reasons. But you texted me, so I knew you were fine, so I never even looked at it.”

I exhale slowly, knowing exactly where this is going now. I glance down at Dan, still down on his knee, holding my free hand, giving me a look like I’m about to get tossed over daddy’s knee again. And just the thought of it blasts me like an incinerator.

“So anyway, it looked weird, you know? It had some shit I didn’t understand, a bunch of hyphenated names or something. I don’t know, I don’t read Danish. But the name Danon was on it so I googled it.” She pauses, gathers and big breath and say, “Elle, while he is a pretty well-known Danish hockey player, he’s also a fucking prince!”

I say nothing, and it’s clearly not the reaction she was expecting.

“Did you hear me? Do you hear these words I’m saying to you? Dan, your Dan, is actually Prince Danon of Denmark. And he’s next in line for the throne!” She pauses to catch her breath. “Holy shit Elle, do you know what this means?”

So many answers to that question run through my brain like wildfire, but I say nothing, and Blanca keeps going. “Girl… you tried to lower your standards and ended up bagging a fucking prince. Like… what? And I’ll tell you right now, I’m firing myself from my fairy godmother position, because you obviously don’t need my help.”

“Blanca, I do though.” I feel a wave of emotion so strong, I think I might have to sit down. “So much right now. Because the fucking crowned Prince of Denmark is on his knee asking me to marry him in a storage closet, while we hide from our parents and the other gala guests, and I don’t know what to do because I’m pretty sure I can’t live without him.”

Blanca makes a strangled sound, before she screams into the phone. “Why the fuck did you answer the phone?”

“Danon! Open the door!” a voice calls out, as they pound on the door.

“I have to go,” I blurt, hanging up before Blanca can protest.

Dan stares up at me with an amused smirk. “Your friend discovered my identity.”

Tugging on his hand, I try to pull him to his feet. “Listen, Dan, I?—”

His face falls, and he shakes his head briefly. “No, Elle, don’t.”

“I have to,” I say. But before I can do anything, there’s an odd whirring sound outside the door, and it’s literally lifted off its hinges. Cameras flash in my eyes, and Dan’s father rushes in, panting.

“Oh my god, Are you…?” He trails off as more cameras flash, capturing our precarious situation.

Great. The moment I turn down the Prince of Denmark's marriage proposal will forever be immortalized.

I tug my hands from Dan’s and he sighs, slowly rising.

His father, between the two of us, his face falling as he seems to make the realization that his son is proposing in a broom closet.

More flashes and then, just as suddenly they stop. I look over and the door has been replaced, just shoved inside the frame. Balancing on nothing, it could be forced down with a strong knock, or a crossbreeze from another door opening, but for the moment we’re afforded another moment of privacy.

“Dan,” I start, moving toward him to wrap my arms around his waist because the idea of not touching him is killing me. “I’m sorry, as much as I love you, I can’t be a queen and move abroad.”

He closes his eyes with a wince, and holds up a hand as if he can shield himself from what’s coming.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” I beg.

“Stop!”

Dan’s father has squeezed himself through the door, his brow glistening with sweat as he pushes his body into the small room with us. Moving me to Dan’s side, he speaks.

“Son…” Henrik places a hand on either side of Dan’s bruised face, and I see love shining in the old man’s eyes.

“Dad, stop.” Dan’s voice cracks. “I’m in the middle of something delicate here, and I’d rather my humiliation not be witnessed by my father.”

“I can see that. And I’d like to help if I can. And if I can’t, at least I can say I tried.”

Dan’s eyes darken, confusion tugging at his features. I’m confused too, frozen in place, my hand over my heart.

“Danon, my boy, I was wrong. Your mother and I were both wrong. When your brother…” He pauses, the pain on his face so palpable my heart aches. Dan puts his hand on his father’s shoulder.

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