Page 31 of Defying the Crown
"You sure? Because I thought—"
"Trust me, I'm usually pretty good when it comes to my sense of direction" I picked up our pace, weaving between the trees. Behind us, I glimpsed Erik's tall frame intercepting the woman. His voice carried just enough for me to catch fragments.
"Delete those photos... security concern... immediately."
Daniel remained focused on pointing out a group of turtles sunning themselves on a rock, completely unaware of the close call. I forced myself to breathe normally, to keep my expression neutral even as anxiety churned in my gut. Erik would handle it. He always did.
"You okay?" Daniel squeezed my hand. "You seem tense all of a sudden."
"Just remembered something I need to tell my assistant Erik later." The lie tasted bitter, but I couldn't bring myself to shatter this perfect moment with the truth. Not yet. "Nothing important."
We rounded a bend in the path, putting more distance between us and the woman with the phone. My security detail shifted positions seamlessly, Agent Larsen taking point while Erik dealt with the situation. I hated this – the constant vigilance, the lies by omission, the way my title threatened to poison even the most genuine connections.
But when Daniel's shoulder brushed mine as he leaned in to point out a street performer in the distance, his smile bright and unguarded, I pushed the guilt aside. Just for today, I wanted to be simply Harald, walking through Central Park with a beautiful man who saw me, not my crown.
The ducks clustered at the water's edge, waddling closer as Daniel tossed bits of bread from a paper bag he'd grabbed at a nearby cart. The late afternoon sun caught the ripples on the lake, turning them to liquid gold. We'd found a secluded bench partially hidden by a weeping willow, away from the main paths.
"My therapist would probably say this is very therapeutic," Daniel said, breaking off another piece of bread. "Feeding ducks instead of overthinking life."
"Mine would agree." The words slipped out before I could catch them. Daniel's eyebrows lifted slightly, but his smile remained warm.
"You see someone too?"
I nodded, watching a particularly bold duck snatch a piece of bread from its companion. "For anxiety mainly. And... other things." The bench creaked as I shifted closer to him, our thighs touching. "It's hard sometimes, feeling like you have to be perfect for everyone."
Daniel's hand found mine, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "Tell me about it. When I was in the system, every new home felt like an audition. Like if I just acted right, smiled enough, maybe they'd keep me."
The raw honesty in his voice made my chest ache. Here was someone who understood what it meant to live under constant scrutiny, albeit for very different reasons. I wanted to tell him everything – about the crown, the expectations, my father's disapproval. Instead, I squeezed his hand.
"You don't have to perform for me," I said softly.
Daniel turned to face me, his dark eyes searching mine. A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, and I resisted the urge to brush it back. "Same goes for you, you know. Whatever's weighing on you, whatever you're carrying – you can just be yourself here."
The irony of his words twisted in my gut, but the genuine care in his expression soothed the sting. A duck quacked impatiently at our feet, demanding its share of bread. Daniel laughed, breaking the intensity of the moment, and tossed it a piece.
"Everybody's a critic," he said, leaning his head against my shoulder.
The weight of Daniel's head on my shoulder felt both perfect and painful. Each casual touch, each unguarded smile twisted the knot of guilt in my stomach tighter. Here, in this peaceful corner of Central Park, I could pretend to be just Harald – no titles, no duties, no expectations. But the lie grew heavier with each passing moment.
Daniel's fingers traced lazy patterns on my palm. "You know what I like about you? You actually listen. Not just waiting for your turn to talk, but really hearing what I'm saying."
My throat tightened. I did listen – because with Daniel, I could be the person receiving the confidence rather than the one always expected to have the answers. The freedom of anonymity let me focus entirely on him, on understanding his struggles and sharing my own without the weight of protocol.
"I want to tell you something," I started, then faltered as Daniel shifted closer, his warmth seeping through my sweater. The words stuck in my throat. Once I told him the truth, everything would change. The easy banter, the natural connection, the way he looked at me like I was just another person – it would all disappear behind the barrier of formality my title created.
"You can tell me anything," Daniel said softly, lifting his head to meet my eyes. The trust in his expression made my chest ache.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again as a family walked past our bench, the children pointing excitedly at the ducks. Erik's tall frame shifted in my peripheral vision, a constant reminder of the reality I was trying to escape.
Daniel deserved the truth. But selfishly, desperately, I wanted to preserve this moment – this pure connection untainted by crown and country. Just a little longer. Just one more hour of being seen for myself, not my inheritance.
"I just..." I squeezed his hand. "I'm really glad I met you."
The words were true, even if they weren't the whole truth. Daniel's answering smile lit up his entire face, and I tried to memorize it – this moment before everything would inevitably change.
Chapter 14
As the elevator doors opened with a soft ding, I followed Daniel out into the dimly lit hallway, my heart racing with anticipation. Daniel stopped just outside his apartment door, an endearing mix of nervousness and eagerness in his eyes.
