He shrugs with one shoulder.

“But that’s not true, is it?” I continue, still confused.

His jaw tenses as he thinks that over and for once he looks away. “It’s not about…it doesn’t matter. That’s what he told him. And so, you were invited here for dinner like this was a set-up, a blind date of sorts.”

I can only stare at him. The Prince of Norway is telling me that the reason I’m here is because of him, that he wanted to take me on a date?

“My father’s butler never mentioned that,” I manage to say after a beat.

“Which surprises me,” he says, “or maybe it’s that he wanted you to come, and if you’d known the truth, you would have said no.” He pauses, giving me a furtive glance. “Would you have?”

Hell. I don’t have an answer to that. I suppose if my father had told me the truth and expressed any importance to it, I still would have come here, to please him and make him happy.

I shrug. “Sure. I mean, this is just a dinner, that’s all. It would have been a…new experience.”

“You don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings,” he tells me. “I don’t have that many to begin with.”

“I wouldn’t be proud of that.”

“I’m not proud. Just honest.”

“Okay, fine. Are you asking if I would have wanted to go on a dinner date with you? Well, no. You’re not really my type.”

“And you’re not my type either,” he says quickly, like he’s throwing what I said back in my face.

I frown, not understanding. “If I’m not your type, then why did you invite me here for dinner?”

“Because I had to. I picked you.”

I blink slowly. “Picked me for what?”

“Marriage.”

Am I hearing this right?

My lips move to make words but no sounds come out. Finally, I manage a breathless, “What?”

“I know,” he says with a deep sigh, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his feet. “It’s going to take you a lot of time to come to grips with it. Fuck knows I still am. I mean, this is absolutely surreal to say the least, not to mention ridiculous, unfair and, well, cruel, but it is what it is.”

None of what he’s saying is making any sense at all. Am I being filmed? Is this a joke? I start looking around for cameras and of course there are a million of them on the palace walls and lampposts for security reasons.

“So your father doesn’t know the whole truth,” he goes on. “My father left that part out. But the fact is that I need to get married and I’m trying to figure out if it should be you. You were my first pick of the lot.”

“First pick of the lot?” I repeat. “Magnus, Your Highness, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And to be honest, it’s starting to scare me a little.”

He exhales loudly and runs his hands down his face. “I can’t believe these are the words that are coming out of my mouth,” he mumbles. He then looks up at me, hair wild, eyes brimming with intensity. “In order for me to inherit the throne and earn back my family’s good graces in the public eye, I have to get married. I have to get married soon and to someone who would be a good fit, someone of the right bloodline, someone who would make our crazy fucking family look good. This is the last thing I want, but I’m willing to do it for the sake of the throne, for my father, for the country. And the only way I can do it is if you agree to it.”

I stare at him for a few moments until I burst out laughing. “You have got to be kidding me!”

“I’ve been wanting to make you laugh tonight but not like this,” he says quietly. He clears this throat. “I’m not kidding. It’s not a joke.”

If it’s not a joke, then this man is clearly crazy. “I know you’re into those high-risk sports but I question if you hit your head one too many times. You’re supposed to wear a helmet for a reason.”

“Look, I know this is insane—”

“Insane?” I close my eyes, trying to compose my thoughts. “It’s beyond insane. This is…ludicrous.” Shaking my head, I look at him, trying desperately to see the reasoning in all of this. “You’re being forced into marrying someone against your will?”

“I’m not being forced,” he says sternly. “I have a choice. I’m choosing to do this.”

“What about marrying for love? You don’t even know me. You don’t even like me.”

“I never said I don’t like you,” he says quickly. “I do. I think you’re, uh, you have great eyebrows.”

“Eyebrows!?”

“And no, I don’t know you but perhaps when it comes down to it, we’ll be a good match.”

I stand up, my skin feeling tight and agitated, my head swimming as it tries to grapple with this. “Well, since I know the throne is more important to you than love, I’ll let you know that when I plan to marry, I plan to do it for love.”

His eyes narrow, his gaze so sharp that it makes me feel breathless. “The throne isn’t more important than love is. I’m doing this because I love my family, my father.” I watch his throat as he swallows hard, taking in a deep breath. “This is what my father wishes for me, and I’m the one who fucked up bigtime. I don’t have to tell you what I’m trying to make up for here.”

The sex tape, no doubt.

He continues, his tone becoming soft as he looks away, staring off into nothing. “Look, this is just between you and me, but my father isn’t doing well, and all this extra stress I’ve put the family under isn’t helping. I’m supposed to make a public apology to the prime minister in a few days, on camera, and that will help but it won’t put him at ease. I just don’t know what else to do and this seems like the only way out, and the only way I can help him. He deserves this.” He pauses. “I need to do this.”

I feel a pang of sympathy for him but it in no way changes anything. “I’m sorry that you’ve found yourself in this hole, and I’m sure you’re charming and resourceful enough to climb your way out, but I’m not your answer. Marrying me isn’t a rope…unless it’s a rope around both our necks.”

“That’s fucking morbid,” he says, giving me an odd look.

I stand up straighter. “I’m not getting married to you, Your Highness. Not for love, not for your debt, not for your country. I will gladly sacrifice myself for things I care about, but I don’t care about you. You’re a stranger to me and I’m a stranger to you, and there’s no way that’s going to change. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go back to your list and find another woman to take my place.”

He nods, chewing on his lip. His hair falls across his face, obscuring his eyes. “All right. I respect that. I didn’t think you were cut out for this sort of life anyway. You’re too soft and dainty for the public eye.”

“Excuse me?” I ask him, feeling a rush of hot blood roll through me. “Soft and dainty?”

He brushes his hair from his eyes as he takes me in. “That’s what I said. You’ve lived a life of anonymity with no one expecting anything of you, it seems. Not even your father. Why would you trade in the life of an average student for one of prestige and power? It makes no sense at all.”

Is he trying to do reverse psychology on me?

“I’m not playing this game,” I tell him.

“There are no games.”

“I highly doubt that with you.” I cross my arms. “And please, indulge me for a moment. You would be completely okay with being married to a stranger? You’d be okay with marriage in general? You do know you have a horrible reputation amongst women, don’t you?”

He glares at me. “I wouldn’t call it horrible.”

“You’re a manwhore, playboy, womanizer.” I tick off my fingers. “Wannabe Casanova.”

“Wannabe? I think I’ve fully achieved Casanova status at this point.”

“You’re proud of it, too. So how on earth do you expect to settle down with someone and marry them? You do know what marriage vows are, don’t you?”

“This might be different,” he says.

“You mean you would break those vows?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you had to?”

I dismiss him with a wave of my hand. “I don’t even know why I’m discussing this with you. Of course you’d be okay with a lifetime full of illicit affairs as long as your public image remains pure.”

“There are a lot of marriages like that, more than you’d think, and it would be naïve of you to think otherwise.”

“Then maybe I am naïve and maybe I’m a bit of a romantic. And maybe I have morals and I take things like marriage seriously, which you obviously don’t since you don’t seem to take anything seriously. You think this world is your giant playground.”

He sucks in a breath as if I’ve seriously insulted him. The glint in his eyes turns mean. “You don’t know me. I take things that matter to me seriously and this matters to me. This is serious. And it would help if you took it seriously too.”

I press my hand to my chest. “I am taking it seriously. I think this is seriously messed up and that I’m seriously not interested in getting involved in a sham marriage with you.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” He almost looks hurt and I realize I’ve been a little harsh with him. It seems like that’s the only way to get through to him. “Sorry. I’m sorry you have to be put in this position, and honestly, I do wish you the best of luck and happiness. But after this dinner, I have no plans to ever see you again.”

He nods, exhaling through his nose. “Man. I’m starting to feel sorry for every girl I’ve told that to.”