Three months ago, Rose Linden had been struggling to pay her bills. Today, she no longer worked two jobs in San Francisco, scraping frozen rain off the window of the broken-down car she jump-started each night. As of an hour ago, she’d become a baroness, with the world at her manicured fingertips. And Lars Växborg was her husband. Rose glanced at her new husband across the enormous gilded ballroom of his castle in northern Sweden. The slender, blond baron looked sleek in his tuxedo, sipping champagne as he was deep in discussion with several young women. She was his wife now. She should have been ecstatic. And yet, staring at Lars across the room, she suddenly found she couldn’t breathe. “Very fancy wedding, Baroness,” her father teased, then frowned. “But why are you so skinny these days, peanut? You been sick or something?” Her mother elbowed him in the ribs.
