Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven

**Alexander**

We traveled by car—well, technically, a convoy of sleek, black SUVs, the kind that screamed “royalty on a mission.” The organizers had insisted it was the best way to navigate the rural terrain, and I didn’t argue. Starting our project in the remote village of Nybroholm seemed fitting, though I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the company in the vehicle. For some inexplicable reason, every time he was near, my hands felt restless, and my heart decided to pound like a drum. It was infuriating, considering I wasn’t interested in men. And even if I was—which I wasn’t—he definitely wouldn’t be my type. Not at all.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t dated in a while—okay, maybe it had been a while—but I still liked women. I was certain of it. It was just bad timing with all the pressure from my father and everyone else pulling me in every possible direction.

Take Sofia Dahborg, for example. She was stunning. My family liked her—everyone liked her. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also humble about it, clever, down-to-earth, diplomatic... Come to think of it, she was everything Leonardo wasn’t. Yet, instead of thinking about her, I was distracted by the arrogant airhead I was traveling with. Why? Why him, of all people?

Leonardo sat beside me, far too close for my comfort, and his energy filled the confined space. He had that ever-present grin across his face, the kind that suggested he was enjoying this arrangement far more than I was.

I glanced out the window, pretending he wasn’t there, but of course he couldn’t let that stand.

“Let’s start over, Prince Charming,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Why don’t we try to get to know each other better? Bury the hatchet, as they say.”

I turned my head slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of diplomacy?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, undeterred. “I’m a natural-born diplomat. So, what do you say? Fresh start, Charming?”

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. “Fine. If we must—for the sake of working together for what’s going to be a very long time—you should start by calling me Alexander. From now on.”

His grin widened. “Yay! We’re finally on a first-name basis! This is progress.”

“It’s a necessity," I corrected, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

“Necessity or not, I’ll take it,” he said with a wink. “So, Alexander, here’s a bit about me. Consider it my olive branch.”

I didn’t respond, but he took that as encouragement. Typical.

“I’m studying art and international relations,” he began, his voice lighter than usual. “Art’s my first love—painting, photography, theater. It’s all about freedom, you know? No rules, no expectations. Just creating something real. Something that’s yours.”

I caught a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, but he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Of course, the media doesn’t care about that. They’re too busy spinning stories about my nonexistent scandals. I honestly have no clue why.”

“Yep, it’s a complete mystery,” I muttered, earning a chuckle from him.

“See? You’re funny when you try, Alexander,” he teased. “Anyway, that’s me. Your turn.”

I stared at him for a moment, then looked out the window again. “Pass.”

“Pass?” He tilted his head, pretending to be offended. “C’mon, we agreed to bond by sharing our personal histories.”

“No, *you* decided that,” I corrected. “I only agreed to tolerate you until the end of this journey.”

“Ouch,” he said, shaking his head dramatically. “After all I’m doing for your country... But fine. I’ll break you down eventually, Alexander. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Look, the only thing you’ll be breaking here is my patience,” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t know why the hell you’ve convinced yourself that there is—or ever will be—anything between us. I don’t like you, Leonardo. In fact, I wish I never had to see you again. You’re arrogant, careless, passionless—”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of passion, believe me.”

“And *obnoxious*!” I snapped, ignoring his interruption. “My country doesn’t need you, this project doesn’t need you, and ***I*** especially don’t need you.”

He leaned closer, his tone dropping slightly. “You know, this whole ‘aloof royal’ thing you’ve got going? It’s cute. But I’m going to seduce you, Alexander. Sooner or later, you’re going to give in. You might as well save us both some time and agree now.”

I turned my head sharply, meeting his gaze. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re blushing,” he said, smirking.

“I am not—” My protest died in my throat as he moved even closer, his face inches from mine. His eyes locked on mine, daring me to pull away, but I couldn’t. I hated the way my pulse raced, the way his confidence disarmed me completely.

“I know you’d like a repeat of that certain time we shared….” His voice softened, teasing and low. “See? You’re already halfway there.”

The air in the car grew heavy, his breath warm against my skin. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me again. Worse, I thought I might let him.

No. Absolutely not.

But then the car slowed, and the glass partition between us and the driver rolled down. My personal guard announced our arrival, snapping the moment in half.

“We’re here, Your Highness.”

Leonardo leaned back, a wicked grin on his face. “Saved by the bell. For now.”

I exhaled sharply, willing my pulse to steady as the car came to a stop. Through the window, I saw the charming village of Nybroholm—modest wooden cottages, cobblestone streets, and a small crowd of locals waiting to greet us. It was picturesque, serene, and exactly what I needed to distract myself.

Leonardo, of course, ruined the moment.

“Well, Alexander,” he said, his voice full of playful challenge. “Shall we impress the locals with our flawless teamwork?”

I shot him a pointed look. “Just stay out of my way.”

“Not a chance,” he replied, stepping out of the car with his usual swagger.

And so it began.

The moment we stepped out into the crisp air of Nybroholm, the small village unfolded before us. Wooden cottages with red-painted facades dotted the landscape, and the faint scent of pine mingled with smoke curling from chimneys. A group of locals greeted us warmly, their smiles genuine despite the brisk wind cutting through the square.

The project coordinator approached, clipboard in hand. “Your Highness, Mr. Vittorio, welcome to Nybroholm. We’ve arranged accommodations for you both at the village inn, just down the road. Simple but comfortable.” She glanced at me with practiced neutrality, then at Leonardo, who grinned like he’d just been handed the keys to the kingdom.

Inside the inn, the rooms were cozy, with pine-paneled walls and thick woolen rugs to keep the chill at bay. To my dismay, our rooms were right next to each other. I could already imagine Leonardo finding excuses to knock on my door.

I turned to the staff member showing us around. “Where will our escorts and guards be staying?”

“They’re in the room at the end of the hall, Your Highness, as they requested,” she replied. “From there, they can control everyone coming in and out.”

Leonardo smirked as we stepped into our respective rooms. “So, no guards right outside your door? Dangerous. What if I decide to break in?”

“Then I’ll have you arrested,” I snapped, closing the door in his face.

But as I leaned against the door, I could still hear his muffled chuckle. A part of me wanted to dismiss it as arrogance, but another part—a much smaller part—wasn’t entirely sure.

Then came the sound of something heavy hitting the wall between our rooms. His voice followed: “Oops! Sorry, neighbor.”

I stared at the wall, my jaw tightening. This was going to be a long trip.