Cinderella (Not quite the fairy tale Book 1)

by May Sage

  She opened her mouth to say just that and sprouted out:

  “Alright.”

  Dammit.

  What the hell was wrong with her! Been there, done that; even got a t-shit about it. The whole crying in her sleep hadn’t been fun the first time around, so why the hell was she subjecting herself to more of the same? More of him.

  The thing was, if everything went great and she somehow ended up marrying her childhood sweetheart, her world would completely collapse later, rather than sooner.

  It wasn’t even Daniel’s fault, but he was bound to be a terrible partner.

  She perfectly recalled the particular conversation supporting that theory.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I have two siblings.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of either, then?”

  “Oh, they aren’t legitimate – one is my dad’s first love’s kid and the other, he had with a courtesan.”

  She remembered the shrug, as though such a thing was just normal, and at the time, she’d laughed with him.

  But the thing was, his acceptance of it meant that he attached very little value to the whole faithfulness thing, like every King before and after him.

  To an extent, she even understood it: having bastards was practical, for a monarch. If his family was ever eradicated, there would be some direct blood relations to take over.

  But Ella wasn’t into sharing; not even a little bit.

  There were so little that she could call hers that what did belong to her, she hanged on to and fought for; tooth and nails.

  She’d never intended to fight for a man.

  After what happened with Daniel, she’d actually resolved to stay single unless she found someone who actually genuinely valued her.

  She already had ample proof attesting that that person wasn’t him. The fact that be bloody didn’t remember her should have been enough of an indication!

  “But,” she added, determined to emerge from the next couple of days with a few remaining strands of self-respect, “there will be no getting to know each other. The only thing I’m up for is a friendship.”

  Daniel only shrugged before getting up.

  Just like that – without even removing his hands from her – he’d pushed himself upwards and lifted them both; embarrassingly, she realised she’d instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso and found herself getting carried like a toddler.

  She untangled her legs and he gently put her down to the floor.

  “Your highness?”

  “Dane,” he corrected.

  “Dane?”

  “Mh?”

  “You’re still holding me against you.”

  “It would appear so.”

  His embrace was ever so light, she could have detached herself from it at any point and if anything, it made it worse; by giving her freedom to escape, he was wordlessly making his most eloquent argument so far.

  She didn’t actually want to go.

  However as she’d pointed out, Daniel de Luz knew nothing of her; Ella’s life – unlike his – wasn’t about what she wanted, but what she could afford.

  She turned her heels and left without looking back.

  By sneaking into her room at the early hours of the morning, in the outfit she’d worn the night before, she branded herself with a white hot seal, to every early riser who caught her walk of shame.

  She was officially a whore.

  Oh well.

  She took a long hot shower in a vain attempt to wash off all the theories turning, swirling and dancing through her frazzled mind before joining the bulk of her peers for breakfast.

  It was evident that the news of her supposedly brazen overnight activities had travelled and while some actually openly shunned her, other had slept on the matter and come up with a different solution.

  They started to be nice.

  “That chair’s free,” a gorgeous redhead pointed out and when she sat down, her companion offered her a coffee.

  In most instances, Ella would have mistrusted their behaviour but while she was weary of hidden agenda, there was no mistaking their sudden change of heart.

  As she’d learnt long ago, the best way to survive an ordeal was to accept it for what it was and roll on with it. Those newly friendly expressions belonged to the cleverest amongst them: they knew that they were either addressing their future Queen or one person whose company might bring them in the proximity of the King.

  Ella abandoned them without so much as a flicker of guilt as soon as Sheila appeared; exhausted, obviously hangover but still annoyingly gorgeous.

  She was too diplomatic to spit on an olive branch, but Sheila had befriended her right from the start, without potting the whole relationship. She totally had dibs.

  “Good morning!”

  “Shh! Lower,” the model groaned, cursing at her cheery reception. “How come you’re not completely plastered?”

  “That, my friend, is called paying for school by being a bartender, rather than a sex symbol. I can hold what I drink; when I get to my limit, I stop.”

  Sheila stared, her eyes widen by her obvious surprise.

  Ella didn’t need to ask why.

  The years hadn’t managed to alter the posh intonation of her voice, the posture her mother had coached into her and her frail appearance didn’t help. Those she met always assumed to was made of money; she couldn’t begrudge them. Technically, they were right, although it didn’t exactly feel like it when she was scrubbing the toilets.

  “Yes, I work,” she rolled her eyes.

  And she was grateful not to be counted amongst those who didn’t; they were often snobbish, incapable of grasping the value of money and so disillusioned they believed they shit flowers. The real world would hit them in the face someday, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “In bars?”

  “I do a bit of this and that. Bar work, mostly, but also some secretarial shifts at the vet where I have my internship; when they can give me the hours, anyway.”

  Which was often, thankfully; she didn’t get tips there, but the hourly rate was about three time her usual wage.

  Ella got a taste of her own medicine when Sheila returned her stunned, incredulous expression; yesterday, she’d been shocked that the exotic beauty had had an advance degree, today it was her turn to find herself underestimated.

  She couldn’t say that it bothered her.

  Ella knew that most bar patrons completely misjudged her, often showing some sort of condescendence because her job consisted in serving them. Same went for Anastasia and Dru, Lady Tremaine.

  They wouldn’t know what hit them, when she was ready to pounce.

  “Why a vet?”

  Because it pays well enough to sustain a long lawsuit.

  “I started in pre-med and branched out; I like animals.”

  Or more to the point, she understood them.

  When something was wrong with them, there was a limited number of options to consider, generally tied to their physical conditions; veterinary school wasn’t by any stretch of imagination easier than studying medicine, but her entire body had suddenly relaxed after she’d made the decision of switching her major.

  The arrival of the Chamberlain interrupted their chatter; the solemn servant was here to announce the course of amusement of the day.

  While the Winter Fest – held about a month before the first snow, when walking around was still pleasant – wasn’t the most popular amongst the choice of seasonal celebrations, Fortown – the popular village nestled at the feet of the palace – rarely missed an opportunity to ensnare the flocks of tourists converging to Jenerapolis.

  They were holding a festival and the King, in his infinite wisdom, invited his suitors to meet him there.

  Ella was dumbfounded for a minute, and then, couldn’t stop chuckling.

  She’d been to Fortown many a time and the little village was tiny. Twelve hundreds of them would completely crowd the town square and that was without counting the
addition of potential visitors.

  A sage woman might have resolved to stay where she was, but Ella was not missing the chaos. If anything, the experience would allow her to serve Dane a well-deserved “what the hell were you thinking” next time he sought her out.

  •

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Fortown was holding their festival north of town, in a useless stretch of land which technically belonged to him; gypsies had been invited, offering an extensive variety of fun fairs, the most exquisitely decadent range of nasty fast-food, great music…

  What they had forgone was potential hideouts.

  One of the greatest secret kept by the royal family was that Dane hated people; his family, he could deal with. The presence of those who’d managed to cunningly forge a place in his life over years of acquaintance was fine. His advisors? He frequently imagined implanting their heads on spikes.

  If that made him the very worst king in the entire history of Alenia, so be it.

  Women – particularly those he found alluring – hadn’t been as much as an issue before, but the herd he’d gathered was very, very close to drive him to madness.

  Worst of all was the glances he stole every now and then, when Ella appeared at the corner of his eyes.

  Oh, she was enjoying herself, the little swine. From her expression, varying from enjoyment to outright glee, she understood just how painful his ordeal was.

  Which made no sense.

  Little as Dane might like the exercise, he smiled, answered every query and appeared calm, on the verge of contentment.

  Yet she really wasn’t buying the bullshit, somehow.

  It took hours, but finally, he managed to catch a window of opportunity; he found Ella alone, waiting in front of the horrifying mobile lavatories and absentmindedly humming a soothing lullaby.

  Without facing so much as a second of hesitation or remorse, he grabbed her, threw her on his shoulder and ran until they were both safely concealed between three mobile homes.

  Then, he pushed her against the plastic walls and brought his lips to hers. He damn well deserved it after hours of putting up with her distance, her sarcastic enjoyment and her... What was it? Her scent. Floral, ever so slightly citrusy, elegant all around. Damn, he could drown in that smell.

  Ella was started at first but she soon responded to his touch, moaning into his month as he deepened their kiss; he didn’t order his hands to seek the warmth of her flesh but somehow, by the time he became conscious of their activities, one was under her shirt, caressing her stomach and the other, more daring yet, cupping her sex.

  It wasn’t what he’d planned. He’d just wanted five minutes of conversation with the one damn person who didn’t seem to want anything out of him…

  But here they were and they were not going anywhere; instead of admonishing him, Ella was curving to his touch, wanting more.

  More is exactly what she would get.

  He pushed the fabric he felt aside and drove his finger right into her heat, groaning when they got drenched. Fucking hell, she was so wet. In response, she threw her head back, realising a long moan he should have desired to quell.

  The thing was, he didn’t. Let the whole damn kingdom hear the pleasure he gave her!

  But apparently, his woman was the more sensible of the two; she bit her lip, repressing further sounds as he played her pussy like an instrument. His left hand found her nipples under her shirt and his lips leisurely explored her long neck, her jaw, her forehead; finally, she went limp, entirely spent.

  Dane couldn’t recall the last time he’d had that kind of sex; the one sided genre, completely focused on the partner’s pleasure.

  To be entirely honest, that was a lie. He recalled all of his experiences and knew for a fact he’d never been tempted to satisfy a woman without expecting the favour to be repaid. It just wasn’t how his world worked, before he met Ella Tremaine.

  “You’re so responsive, woman,” he praised.

  His voice was laboured, breathless under the strain of attempting to quench his desire, his need to just bend her over and take her here and there.

  The thing was, they were in a semi-public venue. While this fact wasn’t going to stop him after their nuptials, it was important to limit the scandal this side of the event.

  There would be enough issues when the people realised he was marrying a noble. The Tremaines weren’t very high up the food chain, but it would be enough for her to be instantly disliked by the bulk of his subject.

  Ultimately, it didn’t change anything. Dane wasn’t into her because it was a wise course of action, because she’d bring some sort of assets, of some influential connections. He was going to marry her – selfishly, thoughtlessly – because within twenty-four hours, he already found himself pretty damn closed to falling in love with the woman.

  It was going to be exactly that. Falling; easily, without conscious effort.

  And he was looking forward to it.

  Chapter 10: Cruel.

  She’d had an orgasm outside, behind a trailer, around about three thousand strangers who, at any time, could have looked around the wrong way and caught them.

  Damn. That was humiliating for all kind of reasons.

  The worst of it was that next time someone looked down to her, obviously believing that she was nothing but a slut, she was going to blush instead of ignoring the insult.

  Yet at the same time… wow. Just wow.

  Glaring at him was aiding her dignity, but she wouldn’t take back these five minutes for a kingdom.

  “Well,” she shrugged, “we’ve already established that you’re very, very good at the whole intercourse thing. What was your point?”

  His gaze darkened, sharpened, sending her a clear warning. He didn’t like that – not even a little bit.

  “My point,” he repeated, “is that we’re an explosion waiting to happen, Ella. You won’t find this sort of chemistry everywhere. Now, stop being so childish and tell me: what the hell do you want from me?”

  She would have laughed but the fact that he couldn’t comprehend that someone might want nothing from him was actually quite sad.

  She considered his words for a little while, and concluded that he might just be right.

  She’d never felt the all-consuming, blinding, restless desire to touch, feel and embrace another person with anyone else in her life.

  But was it that important?

  Ella loved apple pie best, but she didn’t mind ice cream. The prospect of a lifetime of ice cream wasn’t as unappealing as one might thing; especially if the ice cream was able to love and respect her.

  The apple pie just had too many fans to choose from.

  “Nothing,” she replied honestly.

  “Let me rephrase it. What would it cost to get you to become my wife?”

  She may very well be mistaken by some tricks, but it did sound as though the King had somehow just proposed to her.

  Fuck.

  Ella had long ago told herself that if – and that was a big if – he actually asked her, she would refuse him. After what he put her through, he didn’t deserve her.

  She remembered exactly what she’d felt when she’d recognised his seal on her reply to the palace.

  Elation, gratefulness, something so powerfully joyful it had been damn close to delirium…

  And she also recalled feeling her heart actually break in two when she’d read the short, curt letter.

  Dear Ella,

  I’m tired of girls like you. Grow up, wise up. Your parents probably just want you to become relatively independent, rather than a spoilt brat. Adults have more important things to worry about; believe me.

  Daniel De Luz.

  PS: tidy up your room.

  It had been cold, cruel, unfair and thoughtless. Everything Daniel pretended he wasn’t…

  She wasn’t going to be fooled by the façade; never again.

  But now, against all odds, she was confronted to that very situation she
’d dreamt of, the spiteful words she’d rehearsed didn’t seem to want to cross her lips.

  Instead, when she managed to open her mouth, she told him the truth:

  “It would cost you all of your honesty, your faithful devotion and your affection. That’s what I’d give a husband of mine and that’s what I’d demand in return. I think we both know that doesn’t sound like your usual royal contract, Dane.”

  His gaze, if anything, was even more intense now; finally breaking the contact he bent down and went right back to kissing the shit out of her.

  Obviously finding the position uncomfortable, he ended up sizing her waste and holding her up, stuck between his arms and the caravan. She wrapped her legs around him and kissed him right back because, every pretty speech about indifference and self-respect aside, it was good.

  Feeling his hard length rubbing against her through their clothing was something neither of them discussed, thankfully, because she couldn’t have lied. God, he felt so…Mhhh. Mhhh was the right word.

  •

  “I will,” he didn’t say, as his mouth was presently otherwise engaged. But the promise wasn’t any less clear.

  He would give her everything she’d asked and more. Faithfulness was a given. Political matches didn’t require it, but theirs would be anything but. He’d take her, and only her, repeatedly, unrestingly, up until she was days from giving birth to their child; then, he might give her a few weeks, before starting again. And again. And again.

  It was only in that instant that he saw the future and worried about it.

  If a war broke the continent apart, he would be called upon to direct their troops. He might even die and leave her – his widow – at the sole mercy of their enemy.

  Not. Happening.

  Reluctantly – but imperatively – he pushed his frame away from her and set her back down on the floor.

  “I have to go,” he confessed, almost frantic.

  He needed to find Alessandro.