This fic was heavily inspired by Taylor Swift's songs. Yes, that has to be said.


Cold yet comfortable, those are words to describe how she felt when she woke up. She blinked slowly, trying to adjust her vision, and it didn't take long until she recognised the bedroom.

Rolling onto her back to see an empty space beside her, she let out a sigh. Waking up alone, once again. Gathering the duvet close to cover her chest, she tried to sit up, her platinum blonde hair falling down her bare back like a drape. Her big blue eyes scanned the room, searching for any notes or memos he might leave behind, and when she spotted his white shirt on the floor, she was stunned.

I should really get used to him staying over.

Her gaze softened, and her lips curved into a smile. There was a dull throbbing in between her legs, bringing back the memory from the night before, of when she laid underneath him, letting him have his way with her for the night. Even so, he had been so gentle, and so loving, treating her body so delicately. The past few weeks he had been giving her attention more than he should have, at least she thought so. Elsa wasn't blind, nor was she stupid. The moment she found a bouquet of heathers on her desk, one morning, she knew something would probably change. Deep down, she was hoping it would be for the better.

Grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor, she put it on. The oversized clothing draped over her small form, hugging her like a robe. Standing before the floor to ceiling mirror on the other side of the bedroom, her hands buttoned the shirt up, only leaving the top two undone for a delicate viewing—which was only reserved for her lover's eyes.

Elsa made her way towards the big window. She parted the white curtains and opened the window, letting the faint ray of sunlight soak in. Closing her eyes, she leaned over the windowsill, inhaling the fresh air. The familiar scent of the cool crisp air filled her senses, as the gentle breeze from the lake before the house caressed her face with a soft touch. Her eyes fluttered open when she heard a faint sound of a pan and plates clinking. Smiling softly, Elsa shook her head. Whatever Hans had planned for her, she looked forward to it.

It's a good place to relax if you feel like escaping from reality for a while, she recalled her sister's words to describe their late parents' lakehouse. A good place to keep secrets too, Elsa added once her sister was out of the earshot. She pressed her lips in a thin line, as a sudden realisation hit her. Secrets, what happened within these wooden walls stayed here, and in order to keep that, she had become a liar.

"Only for a good cause," Elsa muttered, "to protect our reputations."

To spare Anna the heartache.

Shaking her head, she pulled herself off the window and padded across the room towards the king sized bed. Crossing her legs, the blonde made herself comfortable on top of the comforter, leaning back against the headrest. Elsa grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and when she turned it on, there were several new messages as well as twenty missed calls from Anna. That's strange, she thought quietly, unless something had happened .

Worry began to cloud her mind, only to have it taken over by surprise when she began to scroll through the chat.


Elsa?!

You there?

Ugh, of course you are.

But where are you, Elsa?

You know what, I know you're probably at the lakehouse, but who are you with?

ELSA OMIGOSH WHAAAAT?

Right, sorry. I'm calming down now, but EXPLAIN!

You and that actor Hans Jorgenssen, how why whennn?

Answer your phone, dear sister!

Look, I know it's none of my business, but I'm still your sister. Please call me back once you're available. I'm not mad that you're keeping me in the dark, but to find out about it from some 'sources' like this? At least tell me something so I can prepare an answer.


An answer for whom? The new information slowly sank in and Elsa gulped. Her blue eyes widened, gaze still lingering on the last message. Does this mean that words have gotten out?

Elsa didn't waste time to swipe on the green button. The ringing tone echoed in her ear, and she found herself fiddling with the pillow beside her. Shifting to a more comfortable position, she pulled the pillow into her lap vertically and rested her chin on the soft fabric. She allowed herself to inhale his familiar scent to calm her raging nerves.

"Elsa!" The blonde almost jumped when she heard her sister's familiar voice, chirpy yet full of concern. "I didn't think you'd call me sooner. It's early, I thought you're still, you know, in bed."

Elsa bit her lip. "Well, I just woke up a while ago. What happened, Anna?"

"More like, what happened, Elsa? What is going on between you and Hans?" Anna probed. "Some journalists called Gerda this morning, asking about you. I refused to answer, of course, it's none of their business. But why didn't you tell me?"

The blonde hung her head in shame. She wanted to explain so badly, but she didn't know where to start. Her gaze lingered on the pile of clothes lying around on the carpeted floor, as she took a deep breath.

"It's complicated."

"Then, explain."

Taking a deep breath, the young woman tried to compose herself. "Nothing is really going on between me and Hans, at least nothing serious." She bit her lower lip, before continuing, "We've been hanging out a lot, spending the nights together either here or in his penthouse. That's all."

"So, you're saying you've slept together," Anna concluded. "It's like friends with benefits?"

"Yes, and no." She paused. "Well, I've told you, it's complicated."

"No, it's not!" Anna stated, beginning to raise her tone. "And I don't get why you decided to keep it a secret. I thought we trusted each other, Elsa."

Elsa rolled her eyes in annoyance. " To me it is, okay? And it's not like we're not allowed to keep our reputations, especially mine and our parents' company." She snapped, and then gulped, not liking the potential fight with her sister. They had been through a lot the past few years, and she knew fighting wouldn't solve anything. Taking a deep breath to calm her mind, she closed her eyes. Her lips quivered at the vivid memory of that particular night.

"Anna, I trust you with all of my heart. I've been trying to not keep it from you, but whenever I tried to bring it up, I couldn't shake the image of you being so," there was a pause, "angry at the night of Mama and Papa's death. How upset you were, that you said, you will forever despise all of the Westergaards for betraying our parents before their deaths."

A beat.

Elsa didn't dare to continue. She needed to hear Anna's reaction.

"What does that have anything to do with this?"

There was a hint of sadness in her words, and Elsa had no choice but to answer.

"He is the youngest Westergaard, number thirteen. Jorgenssen was his mother's last name."

For a few seconds the tension was thick in the air, and the blonde was anticipating an earful. Instead, she heard a surprisingly calm, but slightly confused response.

"I don't know what to say."

"Anna-"

"It's okay, I," Anna paused, "I guess I need to process it, that's all." Elsa heard a long exhale. "You knew he's a Westergaard from the start?"

"No," she replied. "Only three weeks ago, two months after we began to see each other."

"What? This has been going on for a while and you've been keeping me in the dark?"

"I'm sorry, Anna."

"No, it's okay. You have your reasons, whatever they are." Anna sounds so disappointed , she thought. "It's just, a Westergaard, really?"

"He is not his father or brothers, Anna." Elsa said, nuzzling the pillow. "He is just Hans. I've seen the other side of him, not just the persona he shows to the world."

"Gosh, Elsa, you're in love, aren't you?"

Her face grew hotter, as a sudden realisation began to kick in. Her blue eyes widened, her hand clutched the pillow tightly. In love? Someone like Elsa, a young hardworking Chairwoman of the Arendelle Company, wouldn't know anything about love.

"I trust him, Anna. That's all I can say."

"Sure, more than you trust me." Elsa could see the way her sister rolled her eyes, when she heard the reply.

"Anna, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Anna sounded calmer than she did previously, and it made Elsa feel slightly better, although she knew she owed her an apology as well as an explanation. "I think it's too early for me to process everything. Promise me we'll talk later once you're home, Elsa, please?"

"I promise, Anna." She smiled.

"Thank you." Came her sister's reply. "You know I'm not mad at you, right? I just want you to be honest, no more secret."

Elsa let out a sigh, heart heavy with guilt. Her sister is very forgiving, and she feared the kindness would someday run out.

"I know."

"Good. Take care, sister! Bye-bye!"

Before the blonde could reply, the line went dead. Locking her phone, Elsa put it back on the nightstand. Once again, she was left on her own. Not that she minded, but the silence she was left with only made her thoughts sound so loud. Without letting go of his pillow, she lied on her back, eyes on the wooden ceiling. Faint noises could be heard from the kitchen, yet she couldn't care less.

Gosh, Elsa, you're in love, aren't you?

Even minutes after the phone call had ended, her sister's words still echoed in her mind. Love is a strong word with deeper meanings, and it's hard to realise that you're in love, when all you've ever known is a platonic, familial kind of love. Besides, their relationship, or whatever it was, was a result of a series of spontaneous escapades, in which both parties involved agreed to not fall for each other.

No, she told herself, I am not in love.

But if she was telling the truth, why did her heart beat faster whenever he was on her mind? Those kind gestures, like when he left some flowers on her doorstep, his cocky smile, his gorgeous emerald eyes that's staring at her fondly— ah, perhaps she really needs to stop thinking about him . Hans had been a good distraction lately. The way he greeted her as he stepped into her office where she was working overtime, then holding her from the back and kissing her neck, while murmuring a series of I've missed you all over her skin, was enough to make her weak on her knees. It's safe to say that no work was done that night.

Thoughts about him often made her day a little brighter. With him on her mind, a long and tiring day at work felt like less of a burden. Now that she thought about the flowers, the dinners, their secret escapade, she began to realise that she had grown fond of Hans Jorgenssen-Westergaard, an actor with a cocky persona, the one who managed to get under her skin. He was the first person who could break into her fortress, and it was all because he just got her. Perhaps that was why she kept letting him in, despite the burden she had to bear for keeping it secret from the world and her loved ones. Whether he was a good or bad influence, she couldn't be sure. Then again, why can't he be both?

The chilly spring breeze softly caressed her bare calves, and Elsa found herself rolling onto her front, burying her face into the pillow. She didn't like to admit how much she loved his signature scent, especially when she nuzzled the curve of his neck as she rolled her hips in sync with his. Rubbing her thighs together, she tried to ease the throbbing in her core. Blue eyes fluttered close as the blonde reminisced about the secret moments they shared together, secret moments not even those girls surrounding him at parties knew about. Her pink lips curved at that thought.

One taste of him, just one, was all it took to send her mind reeling. He touched her like no other, leaving his hand prints on her soul. They had a connection, him and her, something that seemed to grow the more she got to know him. Every time she came down from the high, he was there to catch her, their bare bodies pressed together, skin to skin. When silence engulfed them in the afterglow, she thought of other girls with whom he had shared his bed in the past, and there was a pang of jealousy in her chest. She used to not care, for he was never hers to lose. Only lately, he had been acting rather affectionate, more gentle, and more delicate towards her, and she couldn't help but care.

Oh, Hans , she mentally said, what have you done to me?

"Elsa?"

She almost jumped in shock when she heard his voice. It seemed like she was too caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't hear him walking in. Looking up from his pillow, Elsa was greeted by a pair of emerald eyes, his eyebrow raising in confusion. She bit her lip when she noticed that his torso was bare, tempting her to stop and stare. The blonde quickly darted her gaze from him towards a wooden desk on the other side of the room, where a tray with what seemed to be some breakfast was.

"Hey." Elsa flashed him a smile. "I didn't hear you."

His smile mirrored hers, his gaze softened, as he leaned in to capture her lips with his, taking her by surprise. It was short and sweet, and even after Hans pulled away, the feeling of his lips lingered on a little longer.

"Good morning," he greeted, before settling down on the bed next to her, thumb rubbing the apple of her cheek gently. "I made some breakfast in bed."

"I know." She nodded. "I heard some noises."

"Oh, did I wake you up?"

Elsa shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Blinking slowly, the young Chairwoman held his gaze, wanting to savour the intimacy, the close proximity they were sharing. With her head propped on one arm, she rested her free hand on the collar of his shirt she was wearing, purposefully toying with the expensive fabric. She felt his gaze dart towards her hand, before glancing at the unbuttoned part of her outfit. The way his Adam apple bobbed, as he gulped, excited her, and she went to hold his arm.

"Are you hungry? Because I am." Elsa raised an eyebrow, her voice was low and seductive. "But I'd rather have you now, if you would have me."

She slowly moved her hand up, taking her liberty to feel his strong arm under her fingertips, and he shuddered. His eyes followed her movement, then he turned to focus on her face. When Elsa finally reached the crook of his neck, she stopped, only her thumb rubbing circles over the expanse of his neck. Noticing the way his emerald eyes darkened with want, she tried to hide her smirk. Him leaning closer got her into thinking that he was going to kiss her lips. But much to her surprise and a brief disappointment, Hans pecked that one particular spot under her ear, right over her beating pulse, before whispering,

"Then, take me."

The deep baritone voice sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel her arousal growing. Elsa drew him close, feeling his breath against her skin. It was when he pressed his lips against hers did she let out a gasp, her heart beating faster. He gently pushed her to lay on her back, then hovering over her body on all fours, just like he did the previous night. A wandering hand sneaked its way underneath the shirt, caressing her hips and teasing her pelvis. Elsa could feel his smirk against her parted lips, before swallowing his soft groan at the realisation that she wore nothing underneath his shirt. The conversation she had with Anna earlier began to evaporate, slowly leaving her lust clouded mind.

"Hans…"

She could chant his name over and over, like a mantra. The way his skilled hands touched her, almost like a musician playing with his instruments to produce a masterpiece, was passionate that she craved for more. The heat in her lower abdomen was burning like a fireplace on a winter night, as she found herself getting lost in his kisses. Murmurs of more coming from her mouth with such an authority often surprised her, for she didn't know she had such an insatiable hunger when it comes to him.

Hans is not like the other Westergaards . Those words were loud inside her head, every night she let him in. He might inherit their looks, resourcefulness, and silver tongue, but Angelique Jorgenssen has raised him well.

Elsa didn't have any physical proof she could show Anna, but she had witnessed another side of him, the side he desperately hid from the world just to maintain his reputation. Behind that persona, he wasn't that spoiled brat the magazine often painted him as—or even a heartthrob with an extravagant lifestyle, who could easily talk his way out of everything. He was just a lost child, trying to find his place to belong.

One by one, Hans undid the buttons, delicately, as if he was handling a fragile porcelain vase. He pressed a kiss on her collarbone down to the exposed skin of her bosom, nuzzling her skin with the tip of his nose. The whole time, Elsa's grip was on his unkempt auburn hair, eyes closed and eyebrows arched. She bit her lower lip, bracing herself for a shiver, as he moved closer to her sensitive peak. Much to her dismay, he stopped.

"Elsa," he let out, tenderly with a hint of uncertainty. "Are you certain?"

What's with the question? She should ask. But they had been there before so many times, lying bare before each other. Did he ask if she really was allowing him to take the wheel? Because if that was the case, she knew she was. Although she could only guess the double meaning behind his question, Elsa decided to play along.

"Only if you want to be mine."

"Haven't I already?" Hans tucked some blonde strands behind her ear, his gaze softened. "Elsa, I've grown to care about you, that it's become so hard to picture myself sharing a bed with anyone else."

Judging from the way her eyebrows knitted in confusion, Elsa certainly did not expect him to say that. She was stunned, trying to let his words sink in. Did he mean it or was it his way to overstay her welcome? She couldn't be sure.

As if he could sense her feelings, Hans reached for her hand. He laced their fingers together, before pressing a kiss on her knuckles.

"Please, go out with me. I'll take you out properly."

Isn't this what she wants?

"Hans," Elsa murmured, "do you mean it?"

For him to be hers?

Hans smiled, green eyes holding her gaze with sincerity. She had seen that look before, when he told her about his mother, and Elsa found herself smiling back.

"I do."

Elsa grazed her thumb over his cheek, cradling his head gently. He leaned into her touch, kissing her wrist. Taking a deep breath, she began to decide. It's not hurt to test the water. Even if she drowned, she could drag him in with her. And so, without further thinking, she tilted her head to the side and sealed the gap between them with a kiss. Feeling his arm around her waist to pull her even closer, Elsa let out a soft gasp, lips parting, allowing his tongue to invade her cavity. Her heart was beating fast with excitement and anticipation, but really, it was mostly her reaction to his confession.

When Elsa broke the kiss to catch her breath, silence fell upon them once again. Panting and smiling, she held his gaze fondly, their foreheads pressing together. She didn't have to say a word just to answer his question. Hans already understood her completely, for they spoke the same language.

Gosh, Elsa, you're in love, aren't you? Anna's question echoed at the back of her head, nagging her like a plague. Only this time, she decided to be brave about it.

I am not, she repeated, denying it.

Elsa realised that one of the reasons why she didn't tell Anna was probably because she thought things between her and Hans would end in less than a fortnight. But little did she know, she had always wished for it to last longer. The more she thought about their relationship, or whatever it was between them, the more she wanted him for herself. Ironic, since Hans was never hers to begin with.

There was an epiphany upon his gentle touches, awakening her senses. Being with Hans, she discovered many new things she didn't know existed. He opened up a whole new world, introduced her to new sensations, and wrote new chapters with her. Elsa wished to stay longer, for she longed to see more.