Page 32 of The Princess Trap
When the plane finally landed, she collected herself with brisk efficiency. It had only been a two hour flight, but Ruben felt like… well, he felt like he’d stepped into a giant metal cage, crossed the world at an unnatural height and speed, and been dumped on the ground again. Cherry, however, looked like a slightly more casual version of her usual glamorous self. Her hair was a riot of curls and coils, her face was as perfect as ever, and her glare was colder than the January air that hit them when an air hostess opened the plane door.
“Welcome to Helgmøre, Madam,” the hostess said with a sunny smile.
And Cherry, damn her, dropped the ice in an instant and answered with a devastating smile of her own. “Thank you, Ida.” She paused, looking out of the open door at the bare tarmac, crawling with security, and the frosted field beyond. “It’s so… refreshing. What a beautiful country.”
Ida’s smile widened and her pale cheeks flushed with pleasure. She stared at Cherry as though hypnotised. “Thank you! You are very kind.”
Ruben moved forwards to help Cherry down the plane steps, and for one fraught moment he thought she might resist his touch—might protest, or jerk away, or do something to alert the plane staff of the chasm between them. But thankfully, she allowed it, though her hand was rigid and unyielding in his.
He, feeling utterly pathetic, bathed her in warmth, in smiles,in consideration, as he led her down the steps. Hans’s disapproving stare was a knife at his back, sharp and impossible to miss. Ruben barely cared. It was galling to realise how desperate he was for even a single ray of the sunshine Cherry gave out so liberally. If she shared a drop of that charm with him, he might die of gratitude.
How did she do this? How did she do this to him?
“You like my country?” he asked, trying to inject some humour into his voice. He wanted to make her laugh, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. He’d done it before, so surely he could do it again.
She smiled and murmured, “Oh, yes.” It was a practiced smile, and they were practiced words. Indistinguishable from the facade she’d offered the air hostess moments ago.
So this was how it would be. Ruben cleared his throat awkwardly, shame creeping down his spine like a centipede, making his skin crawl. What had he been thinking? That she’d soften, that things would go back to the way they were? The way they might have been? Her life was forever changed because he’d chosen her, and been too arrogant to consider the consequences. He’d taken away her power, her control—the things he already knew that she valued the most. And now he was using her to boot.
They descended the steps in silence. Thank God that, when they reached the bottom, Demetria was there waiting.
“Hello!” she cried, flashing her blindingly white teeth. “I’m Demetria Karzai, Ruben’s assistant!” Ruben had never heard her sound so chirpy in his life. And he’d known her for many, many years. “You can call me Demi. It’s so nice to meet you!” She stepped forward to shake Cherry’s hand,and her hijab sparkled in the sunlight. Why the hell was she wearing asparklinghijab? And where were her glasses? Was she really wearing contacts just to meet him at the damn airport?
As the two women exchanged greetings, Ruben turned a questioning look on Hans. The big man shrugged helplessly.
Then Demi finally released Cherry’s hand and gave Ruben a hard, sideways look as she trilled, “I’ve heard so much about you!”
Ah.
“Demi,” he said. “Get in the car.”
Cherry frowned. “Don’t be rude to her.”
Oh, so now they were best friends. Bloody women.
“Bothof you get in the car. Come on.” He stalked forward, Hans bringing up the rear, Cherry muttering acidly about autocratic arseholes. Ruben bit back a smile.
Once they were safely ensconced in the back of the limo, he said, “We’re not really engaged.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cherry muttered.
But he barely heard that over Demetria’s shrieked, “Iknewit!” Then she turned to Cherry with an apologetic look. “No offence.”
Cherry said, very sweetly, “None taken.” She was almost certainly lying.
“What Demi means is that if we were really engaged, she’d already know who you were. She’s my friend.”
“I’m your P.A. And your babysitter.”
“What, you’re not my friend?”
“No comment.”
Cherry’s icy demeanour thawed slightly, and she offered Demi something approaching a smile. “I see.”
Demi nodded. “I woke up the other day to a thousand headlines about Ruben’s mysterious fiancée, and he wouldn’t even answer his phone!”
“I had a lot on my plate,” Ruben murmured wryly.
