Page 72 of Defying the Crown
"Well, your heart monitor certainly agrees." I gesture to the steadily beeping machine, which has finally returned to a normal rhythm.
"Maybe we should tell the doctors this is the best medicine." Harald's eyes crinkle with amusement. "Very thorough physical therapy."
"Mmm, highly recommended for recovering princes." I snuggle into his warmth, relishing the solid strength of his body against mine. "Though maybe next time we try for a little more discretion."
"No promises." Harald's hand slides lower down my back. "You make it very hard to stay quiet."
The double entendre makes me snort with laughter, and soon we're both giggling like teenagers, wrapped up in each other and the pure joy of being together, healing and whole.
"Ready to face the world?" Harald asks, adjusting the collar of his perfectly tailored suit. The hospital gown and workout clothes are gone, replaced by the polished appearance of a Crown Prince. Yet when he looks at me, I just see my Harald—the one who held me through nightmares and counted stairs with me, one step at a time.
Through the window, I can see the crowd of reporters gathered outside the hospital gates. My stomach churns at the thought of facing them, but Harald's hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
"I've got you this time," he says, echoing my words from those first difficult walks. "No more hiding, no more secrets. We face them together."
Erik appears in the doorway, tablet in hand. "The car is ready, Harald. We've cleared a path through the media."
"Thank you, Erik." Harald's voice carries that natural authority now, no longer weakened by illness. "Is everything prepared as we discussed?"
Erik nods, giving me a small smile. "Everything is arranged. The palace statement will be released the moment you step outside."
My heart races. "Statement?"
"Announcing my recovery," Harald says, then adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, "and formally introducing you as my partner."
"Harald—"
"No more hiding," he repeats firmly. "I almost lost everything by keeping secrets. I won't make that mistake again." He touches my cheek. "Unless you'd rather not..."
"No," I say quickly, surprising myself with how much I mean it. "No more hiding."
The hallway outside is lined with hospital staff—nurses who pretended not to see our shared bed, doctors who tracked Harald's recovery, the cleaning lady who always brought me extra coffee. They smile and nod as we pass, and I realize these people have become our unlikely allies in this strange journey.
At the hospital entrance, Harald pauses. Through the glass doors, camera flashes are already starting to pop. He turns to me, those blue eyes serious.
"Whatever happens out there," he says softly, "remember that you're not alone anymore. You have me, Ella, Erik—even Ingrid, though she'll deny having favourites." His smile turns tender. "You saved my life, Daniel Ramirez. Now let me spend the rest of it protecting yours."
The doors open, and the world explodes in a chaos of shouted questions and camera flashes. But Harald's hand is warm and steady in mine, and for the first time, I'm not afraid of what comes next.
The wall of noise hits us as we step through the doors. Reporters shout questions in Danish and English, their voices blending into a deafening roar. Camera flashes burst like lightning, and for a moment, I feel myself freeze.
But Harald's grip remains steady, his thumb brushing reassuringly across my knuckles. His other hand raises in a practiced royal wave, and somehow the chaos seems to organize itself around his calm presence.
"Your Highness! How are you feeling?" "Prince Harald, what caused your collapse?" "Mr. Ramirez! Over here!"
Erik and the security team form a protective barrier around us, but Harald pauses at the top of the hospital steps. The motion silences the crowd—even now, his royal presence commands attention.
"I want to thank the medical staff," Harald says, his voice carrying clearly across the crowd. "And I want to thank the Danish people for their support during my recovery." His hand tightens on mine. "Most importantly, I want to thank the person who gave me something to recover for."
Before I can process what's happening, Harald turns to me, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me. Not a polite peck, but a deep, passionate kiss that makes my knees weak. His lips move against mine with fierce tenderness, and I forget about the cameras, the reporters, everything except the feel of him. One of his hands slides to the small of my back, pulling me closer as his tongue traces my lower lip. I hear myself make a small sound of surrender as I melt into him, my fingers curling into the lapels of his expensive suit. The world disappears in a haze of Harald's cologne, his warmth, the way his thumb strokes my cheek as he slowly pulls back.
"That's quite a statement, Your Highness," I manage to whisper as he pulls away, my voice shaky but teasing.
"Just wait until you hear my next one," he murmurs back, then raises his voice to address the press again. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I believe we're keeping my sister waiting."
Sure enough, I spot Ella standing by a sleek black car, beaming at us with tears in her eyes. The security team parts the crowd, creating a path, and Harald leads me forward—not pulling me along, but walking beside me, matching my pace step for step.
Chapter 29
