A/N

This is the first time in a long long long time that I'm writing a story that is purely my own, down to the characters. sighs I'm not sure how this is going to turn out but here we go…

Chapter One

19 year old, Christina Anders stared in shock at Duke Alexander Eriksson of Pentshire. For the second time in only a few days, Christina couldn't believe how damn cruel life could be.

Two days ago, Christina's only family passed away. Her father had been battling skin cancer for many months and now he finally succumbed to its sweet toxins. There had been many times when Christina thought her father had won, but when he died, she realized there wasn't always a happy ending. She had been devastated, all spirit lost. Her mother had died giving birth to her, so her father meant the world ten times over to her. After the heart wrenchingly beautiful funeral, her father's partner had cornered Christina.

The man he worked with was a powerful young man and cruelly harsh to boot. With no regard to her feelings, Alexander coldly informed Christina of her father's hidden debts.

"Your father has numerous debts and fortunately they are all to me. I expect them to be paid fully no matter the circumstances." Alex's eyes were cold as boulders and tore at Christina's already grieving heart. Not for the first time, Christina wondered what had happened to make Alex so callous.

Despite his horrible attitude, Alexander was the essence of a male heartthrob. He had gray eyes that darkened or lightened with his mood. His chiseled features and firm mouth only added to the mystery surrounding him. Alex also had a wonderfully muscular body and longish black hair falling to his shoulders, messily. He was near her age as well. At the young age of 24, Alexander was already one of the most powerful political figures in Sweden.

In one sweep, Christina tuned back to reality. "What kind of debts? I can pay for them. No matter what it is, I'll pay for them. But what kind of debts are you talking about?" She wasn't half bad looking herself. She was often the center of male attention but obviously Alex was immune to it. A figure with full breasts and toned muscles, she rarely realized the affect. Her long thick champagne blonde hair fell in waves to the small of her back setting off beautiful violet eyes. But for the funeral she wrapped her tresses in a tight bun. Her large violet eyes were fringed with dark lashes making her look all the more alluring. Her full mouth was trembling with the worry, pain and shock she was going through.

Alex grinned coldly and replied, "Not everything is about money. I'd rather not discuss the details now. We will meet in my manor at noon tommorrow. I won't be waiting for you."

Christina suddenly felt very cold, if anymore possible in the icy weather and wrapped her fur line coat tightly around her shoulders.

Christina drove her black BMW Z4 along the quiet streets to her home. She lived with her father in a manor across the road from Alexander's large estate. A Danish song, Aicha by Outlandish, blared from her car. All her tears that she had pent up during the funeral, were suddenly let loose. She sobbed her heart out, feeling as though she could never be happy again. Her wonderful father, who was her biggest supporter no matter how badly burnt her bread would be or how bland an exotic soup was, always encouraged her to do her best. He guided her through her culinary mishaps with a corny sense of humor and never-ending patience and love. Unlike most politicians who couldn't spare time of day for their children, Max Anders canceled national appearances to be with Christina. Never did he turn her away using the excuse of being too busy. Even Alex had to wait. She had no idea where she was going, only that nothing mattered anymore. As she rolled down her car roof, a strong gust of wind tore her hair open, fluttering like a pale banner against the dark night sky.

After three hours of driving aimlessly around the city, Christina went home. She opened the main gates and drove into the garage. Her father had built this house when he was first married Christina's mother. It was a massive rustic style home. Her father had decorated the inside of the home with clean lines and simple pieces of furniture, setting off the occasional elaborate accessory. Christina's father had painstakingly constructed the house of varying woods and stones; it rose to a grand height of four stories. A large sweeping porch with a few chairs jutted from the house. Two wings, one on either side, completed the house. A mini house, the size of a large cottage, near the main house became the politician's office. The first floor had four living rooms, four dining rooms, and a full state of the art chef's kitchen. The second floor had eight guest rooms and an extensive library. The third floor is where her father created a massive game room to satisfy the thirst of their gaming needs. He also had his bedroom on this floor. But the fourth floor was the one that mattered the most to Christina. It was her private suite. Coming up the sweeping stairs, it led to a sitting room. With mix matched furniture and an entertainment center, it served as a barrier to her privacy.

Despite the large house, Christina's father did not want huge lawns to surround the home. So he made a large backyard and set it aside from the main garden. Complete with separate indoor gym and bath, the backyard was all her fathers' work. He had installed an Olympic sized pool and Christina had loved every moment of it. She became a talented swimmer, perfecting her skills, and toning her body. Her 5'7 slender frame would cut through the water with such ease and perfection, her father once cried. A barbeque pit and stone patio completed the backyard.

Christina shook her head to clear the memories and walked into her house. As she walked into the dark house, it finally hit her that she was going to be alone for a long time. Tears came again, streaming down her face and blinding her. A note on the fridge from the cleaning lady was totally ignored. Christina suddenly felt the need to turn on all the lights downstairs. She walked throughout the house, through their private dens, formal dining and living rooms, flicking the lights on. She looked at herself in a hall mirror and saw her father. Christina saw his salt and pepper hair, his crow's feet around his eyes, his twinkling green eyes and boyish smile. She couldn't stop thinking him. His corny jokes, cheesy high school songs and never-ending love for her tore her heart as she thought of his last words.

It was the last time she would ever talk to her father and somehow Christina knew it. She realized she was crying as she touched her father's face. Then he spoke to her. This was the first time he had spoken since his treatment began last week.

"Christina, you're the best daughter any father could wish for. Talented, smart, caring and most of all down to earth. You know you're not like other wealthy girls, snobby brats who care only for themselves.. So I beg of you Christina, stay that way. Never change No matter what you discover in your life, no matter how things change, be yourself. The one I love and the true you.. Always be grateful for what you have and more will forever come to you. In no way change…I love you…"

With that he left her forever, sitting by his bedside, crying. As soon as she was able to stop her torrential tears she wrote down his last words so she could always remember them.

With a jolt, Christina woke. She realized she had fallen asleep downstairs. Glancing at her watch, the time read 10:45 am. She stretched her sore muscles and walked drowsily to the kitchen.

Christina poured herself a glass of pomegranate juice and strode to the front door. As she opened the door a blast of cold air hit her. Hopping to warm herself, she ran to the main gates and picked up the daily newspaper. Once inside she sat on a stool in the kitchen began to read.

"MAX ANDERS DIES. FUNERAL YESTERDAY"

Her eyes began to swim with tears as she saw a photograph of herself at the ceremony with the casket framed in the background. "Photographers weren't allowed at the funeral. How dare they? No privacy at all," she fumed. She washed her glass and threw the paper in the trash.

Christina dashed upstairs to change. Opening the door to her sunlit room, she sighed. Her room was decorated with yellows and greens with dark wood. Mosaic lamps and simple Arabian furniture topped off her haven. An L shaped desk, piled with books, papers, a printer and computer was just off her room in a nook. Clothes lay in a pile on a chaise lounge along with cards of condolence from Parliament members.

Christina rummaged through her closet, wondering how she would survive the day. "A meeting with Alex, dinner at Parliament, and bloody homework. Whoever said life wasn't fair, sure as hell wasn't lying. Pity about living in Stockholm, otherwise I could have canceled dinner." Spotting a teal wrap over knee length dress and a wide leather belt, she hastily dressed. A string of loose pearls and a pair of coppery court sling backs completed her look. She piled her hair into a loose bun and grabbed a short trench coat, her purse, and flew down the stairs. Turning the lights off, she locked the side door of the kitchen and ran to her car.

Although Alex lived literally across the road from Christina, she didn't want to be late. After making her way through security checks at the main and secondary gates, she drove up to the castle. Alex lived in a real castle that had been updated to modern standards. With turrets, medieval statues and an armed guard, Christian began to feel apprehensive. This was not her first time here yet each time, fear gnawed her.

The main doors opened spectacularly into a gigantic hall. Numerous passages led out of the hall and three grand staircases soared upwards. A stately butler took her coat and wordlessly led Christina down a passage and into an unknown room. As she walked, Christina noticed the decorating was highly eclectic from retro art to a gilded cupid and an Asian hookah.

In the room, in fact an office, a stern looking man with a toothbrush mustache and a buzz cut stood to greet her. "Hello, Ms. Anders. I am Major Albin Bergman and I need to clarify a few things with you before we go to Duke Eriksson. It'll be brief. I'd also like to extend my sincere condolences for your loss. I knew your father although not well, but he will be sorely missed." Gesturing for her to sit, Major Bergman sat in a seat across her.

"Thank you Major." Christina didn't know what else to say. She had thought this was a simple meeting. Something told her it wasn't.

"Can I get you anything before we get started? No? Alright, just a few questions and then we'll be on our way. Where, what, and why do you study?"

Clearing her throat slightly, Christina began. "I attend the state university, majoring in culinary arts. I have no desire to be a politician despite my father's encouragement. I've been in the spotlight enough and have no wishes to continue like so. "

Saying nothing, but jotting down plenty, Major Bergman asked, "Do you work?"

"Yes, I'm Head Chef at Touch of Elegance."

"That's quite an achievement, Ms. Anders. One last thing. A boyfriend?"

Christina had been waiting for that question. With a prominent father, Christina had worked hard to maintain her privacy. Reluctantly she nodded. "Colin Mathers, a US citizen."

Major Bergman rose and held the door open. She stood and together they walked out. "Your father did a good job keeping your life hidden. You were lucky." But she didn't have to be told, she already knew how blessed her life had been.

They stopped at a frosted glass door and the major motioned for her to go in. "Good luck, Ms. Anders."

Tentatively, Christina pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A/N

Kinda long and a lot of details. I had to get a lot of things out of the way and stress some things. But hopefully it'll get better. Review please! Thanks!