Page 7 of Last Minute

Erik leans back in his own seat, propping his left hand on the steering wheel. I expect him to smile, but his face remains stoic. “Everything. Why don’t you start from the top: name, birthday. The basics.”

If Erik can be so uptight and formal, so can I. “Name: Princess Eloise Genevieve Wilhemina Haynes, Princess of Brysard. Birthday: November 23rd—”

Erik puts a hand out to stop me and leans forward, his eyebrows raised. That’s the most motion I’ve seen on his face yet.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

I raise my own questioning eyebrow. “No?”

“You’re really a princess?” he asks, like he can’t wrap his mind around little old me being royalty. I look down at myself. Granted, I don’t really look like royalty right now, so I understand his disbelief.

“Yes,” I state. “Do you need the whole pedigree? My parents are King Edward and Queen Genevieve. I have an older brother, Crown Prince Sebastian…” I trail off. “Did you not know who I was?”

Erik furrows his brow a little more and studies me closely. Judging by his reaction, he didn’t. I don’t really blame him, though. Brysard is a very small European country, and not many scandals have come out of our borders in recent years. That’s what the Brits are for, isn’t it?

But the idea of being completely unknown here is…refreshing. I don’t get mobbed by people when I go out in my own country. My family is well-loved and respected. But nearly everyone recognizes us; it’s like being the President of the United States here, I suppose. But I’m not in Brysard, and the anonymity is fascinating.

Erik’s silence and inspection quickly slides into the uncomfortable territory. I’m used to being scrutinized, but being so carefully inspected at such close range does funny things to my stomach.

“Erik?” I ask, hoping to break his concentration. Immediately, his eyes find mine, and I’m spellbound by the intensity of that dark blue gaze.

“This changes things,” he says simply.

I shake my head. “No, it doesn’t. I’m sticking to my plans. Or, what’s left of them anyway. And I’m not letting your preconceived notions of royalty get in my way of enjoying a nice vacation.”

“Vacation?” he repeats. “Do princesses even get vacations?”

I beam and lightly smack his knee with the back of my hand. “That’s what I said! But Mother insisted that I take some time off and go do something for myself, so here I am!”

When I look up at his face again, it’s again fallen into that serious semi-scowl. Okay, maybe the smack on the knee was a little forward. I don’t really know Erik, and he doesn’t really know me.

I curl my hand back onto my lap. “Anyway,” I say, hoping to shake off the awkwardness, “I’m here for a few days to relax and get away. To try some new things. The next few days might not be too terribly exciting for you, but they shouldn’t be all that difficult, either.” I smile, hoping that will help Erik relax. It’s true, I haven’t planned anything too exciting for the next few days, but that doesn’t mean I want to be followed around by the biggest stick in the mud known to mankind.

After a few more moments of scrutiny from Erik, he huffs and turns the key in the ignition of his car. “Where to first, Your Highness?”

I put my hand up as he shifts his car into reverse. He slides the gearshift back to park. “There will be no Your Highnessing or princessing on this trip. Please call me Ellie.” Erik opens his mouth to protest, but I raise my chin and give him my most regal glare—eyebrows raised, lips pursed, and icy gaze. He shuts his mouth.

I pull out my phone and open the email with my hotel confirmation number. I rattle off the name and address of the hotel about an hour and a half away near Baltimore, Maryland, and he inputs it into his GPS navigator.

I didn’t have any reason to pick that hotel over any others, but the idea of getting out and away from the bigger cities was appealing. Like somehow, I could get lost in a small town and put everything about being a princess behind me. No arranged marriage. No royal duties. Just me and…Erik.

CHAPTER 7

Erik

I keep glancing at Ellie to make sure she doesn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. Because that’s what figments of the imagination do, isn’t it? One minute, I was assigned to some rich daddy’s baby girl, and now I’m tasked with the safety of a princess? It sounds like some sort of fairy tale.

The most incongruent thing about the whole situation is that Ellie—Princess Ellie—doesn’t seem like a princess at all. My subset of information is very small, consisting mostly of tabloids and animated movies, but she is unlike any royalty I have met (exactly none) or seen on TV (more than I’d like to admit).

I’ve heard of Brysard—in passing. It’s a small speck of a country in Europe. While I’ve done plenty of traveling to Germany and France for various assignments, I’ve never had a reason to cross the border into Brysard. Therefore, I haven’t had a reason to learn much about it—until now.

My brain is working overtime to compensate for my lack of advanced knowledge. Do I have an ankle holster in the jump bag in my trunk? What are her plans for the next six days? Will we be in public?

When Ellie asks me a question, she has to repeat herself because I didn’t hear it the first time.

“Did you grow up around here?”

I fully turn my head to look at her before answering. A soft smile graces her face, and my brain immediately pegs it as one of those polite smiles you give to someone while making small talk. But on closer inspection, the earnestness in her eyes seems completely genuine.

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