Page 39 of Royal Secret

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his breath warm on my hair.

“More than okay,” I whisper back, not daring to lift my head lest the magic of the evening dissipates with the movement.

In his embrace, under the soft glow of his apartment lights, with the night sky watching over us, I wonder if this is the beginning of the wish I made on the shooting star coming true. Not a wish for crowns or gilded thrones, but a simple, earnest yearning for moments like these — where love is a dance, tender and true, and the future is a guaranteed promise of more good things to come.

“Thank you for this,” I say, my voice barely above the music, wanting him to know how much this night means to me.

“Thank you for being here,” he replies, as if I’ve given him a gift greater than my presence, as if my willingness to share this dance has brought something precious into his world too.

And maybe it has. For both of us.

CHAPTER 21

JAKOB

It’s early. So early.

And yet I don’t mind waking up at all, because I happen to have next to me the greatest company in the world. I stretch languidly, the sheets a silken caress against my skin, and turn to find Courtney still slumbering. Her peaceful expression tugs at something deep within me, and warmth unfurls in my chest. I am, without a shadow of a doubt, the luckiest man in the world.

Perhaps feeling my gaze on her, she stirs.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice still husky with sleep. She blinks open green eyes that hold the freshness of Bergovian meadows after rain.

“Good morning,” I reply.

The urge to reach out, to trace the contours of her face is overwhelming, but I resist, not wanting to break the tranquility of the moment.

“Shall we make breakfast?” Courtney suggests, her smile as inviting as the thought of the first meal of the day shared together.

“Let’s.” I push back the duvet and guide her hand to help her out of bed.

Her dress lies on the floor, so I offer her a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt. They’re too big for her, but seeing her in my clothes makes me hungry to kiss her again.

And so I do. Over and over, until she’s laughing and pushing me away.

We pad into the kitchen, a space designed for elegance and utility, the marble countertops pristine and the copper pans gleaming from their hooks. I don’t use the kitchen much, and it shows, but this morning I am excited to roll my sleeves up and get messy.

Courtney ties her hair up in a loose bun, a few strands framing her face in a way that’s effortlessly charming. I watch her for a moment, how she navigates my kitchen with ease, finding the eggs and the skillet as if she’s done this a thousand times before in this very spot.

“Can you handle the toast?” she asks, a playful challenge in her eyes.

“Watch me become the master of the toaster,” I quip, accepting her gauntlet with a grin.

We whisk eggs and butter toast, our movements harmonious. It’s as if we’ve found a shared rhythm that neither words nor music could adequately express. I catch her looking at me, hergaze carrying a tender curiosity, as if she’s trying to memorize the way I move, the way I smile when I’m with her.

“Jakob, this is perfect,” she says as I hand her a plate laden with golden-brown toast, our fingers brushing in a spark of connection.

“Only becauseyou’rehere,” I respond.

“Because we’re together,” she corrects, and I have no reason to argue.

Our breakfast comes together on the island counter, a simple feast bathed in the gentle morning light. We sit side by side, knees touching under the table. Each bite is savored, each glance exchanged carries a sense of new affection, and the world beyond these walls feels infinitely distant.

The world… the one thing that could steal all of this away. Unless I do something about it.

Fork in hand, I twirl the scrambled eggs on my plate, working up the courage to dive into a conversation that could change everything. Courtney, her sun-kissed hair now free from the bun and cascading over her shoulders, takes a sip of orange juice, her eyes catching mine.

“Hey,” I start, setting down my fork, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

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