Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Also, I think I was expecting him to be wearing a crown while he sits at his desk.
The only thing he’s wearing is a grimace.
I thought he would be the groveling type, but I guess not.
King Aksel barely looks at me, instead focusing on the papers in his hand. “Thank you, Maja. I’ll need a few moments alone with her.”
Her. Not even my name yet. Does he even know my name?
“Very well, Your Majesty,” Maja says and leaves, shutting me in the office with the King.
It feels like I’m being locked in a jail cell.
I clear my throat out of habit and stare down at him, waiting for him to address me personally, all while trying to appear cold and indifferent.
I’m just about to open my mouth and ruin my resolve when he taps his long index finger along the top of the paper he’s looking at, the paper which I’m now recognizing as my resume.
“It says here that you’ve worked in France for quite a few families,” he says, his voice gruff.
“Yes, sir,” I say. Since he’s still staring at my resume as if it’s some sort of treasure map, I’m staring at the top of his head. His hair is light brown, thick and shiny. Slightly longer on the top than the sides, but short overall. A somewhat hip haircut for a king.
“I take it you must speak some French?” he asks.
“Un peu,” I say carefully.
Finally he looks up at me, and it takes a lot of willpower to meet his eyes and not look away. Have I turned to stone yet?
“C’est tout?”
I nod. That’s it. Just a bit. I mean, I know I’m almost fluent but I have a feeling if I admit to that he’s going to start testing me.
“And I take it you don’t speak Danish?”
I shake my head. “No, sir. Never thought I would need to.”
He seems to consider that for a moment, wiggling his lower jaw slightly, then looks back to the resume. My stomach flutters with relief at the break in his gaze. Fuck, this man is intense.
“And so what made you apply for this position?” he asks, voice sounding a bit tired now. He leans back in his chair, casual yet alert, finger tapping along the edge of his armrest as he stares at me.
“The placement agency thought I would be a good match.”
“I’m not too interested in what they think. They never seem to know their clients. Can you tell me why you think you’re a good match?”
A million things go through my head at once. I could tell him that I’ve done this job for various rich and important families, that I have great references, that I’m up for the challenge, that I’m smart and independent and hardworking. I could tell him a million things.
And yet the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Because I know what it’s like to lose a parent at a young age.”
He blinks at me. I can’t tell if he’s caught off-guard by my comment or not.
I go on, pleased that my voice is remaining steady. Not that it shouldn’t but when I get nervous I can never predict how my body will react. “I know what the girls need right now.”
“And what is that?”
“Love,” I say, and now when I swallow, my throat feels thick. “They need discipline and guidance, but they also need compassion, kindness, stability, and above all, they need love.”
He frowns, his jaw getting that tense tremor to it. I don’t know why I thought telling him this would soften him up, but then again, I didn’t really think about it at all.
“And so you think it’s that easy,” he says.
“I never said it would be easy.” I try not to narrow my eyes at him, try not raise my voice. “But since it won’t be easy for any nanny, it might as well be someone who understands. Who doesn’t quit when it gets tough.”
“But you have quit before,” he says, eyes drifting briefly to the resume and back to me, brows raised in challenge. “All these families, you haven’t stayed on for more than a few years.”
I ignore that. “I understood this was a year-long placement.”
“It is,” he says. He gets out of his chair with grace, putting his hands behind his back as he strolls over to the side of the desk, closer to me.
I can’t help but take a step back.
He stops, his head tilted to the side, chin up, observing me. “But who is to say you won’t quit before a year is up? This job is hard, and it’s not like any other nanny position you’ve had. We are a royal family, we’re on another…level, which means you have to rise to that level.” He sighs, almost sounding bored. “Frankly, I stand by what I originally said.”