by Sable Sylvan
Shifterella And The Billionaire Bear: A BBW Shifter Romance Novella
The Shifter Princes, Volume 1
Sable Sylvan
Published by Sable Sylvan, 2015.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SHIFTERELLA AND THE BILLIONAIRE BEAR: A BBW SHIFTER ROMANCE NOVELLA
First edition. July 16, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Sable Sylvan.
Written by Sable Sylvan.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Beauty And The Billionaire Bear
About The Author
Chapter One
Eleanor Albertson abhorred Sunday nights: they marked the end of her weekends but worse, the dinners she had to have with her family. She had gotten along well enough with her father, but her stepmother and her two stepsisters were another story entirely. After her mother had passed, her father had married someone completely different. His second wife was as cold as she looked, a tall blonde who was stick-thin and had pursed lips, as did her daughters, who were sitting right across from Eleanor and whispering back and forth.
“What are you two talking about?” asked Eleanor, bored out of her mind. Whenever he was away, Eleanor had been stuck with the company of her stepfamily. While they would act nice in front of him, whenever he was gone, they became, as their shift suggested, catty and mean. However, as her father had passed away five years ago during high school, there was now nobody to keep Lisa and her siblings in check, and although Lisa had signed a document promising she’d care for Eleanor in exchange for his estate, she had not.
“It’s not nice to pry,” said Eleanor’s stepmother Lisa, picking the tomatoes out of her salad. “Besides, shouldn’t you get going? You have work in the morning.”
“Actually, I have an interview,” said Eleanor.
“Eww, another catering gig?” said her older stepsister, Janet. “Yuck.”
“Yeah, well, my dad wasn’t a millionaire like yours, so I actually have to work to pay for my schooling,” said Eleanor, narrowing her eyes.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” said Lisa crossly.
“If you must know, Janet and I were invited to the Asher Ball,” said Laura, the younger stepsister. “Not that you know what that is.”
“You’re right, balls aren’t exactly my thing,” said Eleanor, resisting snorting, not at the idea of balls, but at the idea of Janet and Laura flitting around in poofy dresses.
“Well, the Asher Ball is invitation only, very exclusive,” said Lisa, picking at her salad. “Only the most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes are invited...and a human like you wouldn’t get invited.”
“That’s right,” said Laura. “I heard that only the most beautiful shifter women have been invited to the ball...and what would they want with a human like you?”
“The Ashers are an old money bear shifter family,” said Lisa. “So I expect one of you girls to nab one of them: a crusty uncle, a widowed grandpa, I don’t care, as long as you come back with a man.”
“Eww, Mom,” whined Laura. “I don’t want some wrinkly bear.”
“Werebear men have money,” said Lisa. “And fuck it, if a bear shifter wants both you and your sister, you hop straight into bed with him and seal the deal. You won’t be complaining when you’re a billionaire’s trophy wife.”
“Plus, it’s not like you’d have to date some wrinkly guy,” said Janet. “Aspen Asher is going to be there...”
“So?” asked Laura. “He goes every year, and he’s still single. What kind of a guy gets to twenty-five without finding their fated mate?”
“He’s a billionaire, he can afford to be selective,” said Janet. “Plus, he’s never met us...we’re the most beautiful shifters in Seattle, he’s going to have to choose one of us!”
Eleanor served herself more of the dry salad...but Lisa slapped her hand away, hard.
“Don’t you dare eat another bite,” said Lisa. “I’m not paying for you to get fatter.”
The comment stung Eleanor to the core. “Excuse me,” said Eleanor, getting up from the table to hide the tears that were welling in her eyes. Eleanor looked like her mother: petite, blonde, and with ample curves, nothing like Lisa and her children, but Lisa never missed a chance to rub it in Eleanor’s face.
“Don’t you walk away, young lady,” said Lisa. “If I can even call you a lady, in those frumpy clothes. You still have dishes to wash!”
Eleanor wanted to say something back, about how her clothes were frumpy because she wasn’t using a millionaire ex husband’s child support payments to pay for them, but she bit her tongue, knowing that even if she talked back, nothing would change. “Yes, ma’am,” said Eleanor, walking to the kitchen and pulling up the sleeves of her grey sweater.
At least in the kitchen, Eleanor was away from her stepfamily and left alone with her thoughts. It was degrading, having to do all the chores in the house, but Lisa insisted that her children had too delicate of a constitution to do chores, and said a maid wasn’t worth the money. Every day, Eleanor worked, and every day, she came back, saving her money in her bank account and saving money by living with her stepfamily while she raised enough money to attend a community college. Eleanor had the grades, the extracurriculars, and all the rest in high school, but her family hadn’t had the money to send her...while the two bitchettes were attending a local college and were out half the time partying.
The Asher Ball. Eleanor mouthed the words and rolled her eyes: what a crock. It was the event that she was working the next day: the Asher Ball was looking for servers for the ball, and one of the catering companies she worked for had landed her a spot. She had thought that it’d be too classy to accept the likes of Janet and Laura, but now, she had her work cut out for her, making sure that she stayed out of the twins’ eyes all night while she just kept her head low and did her job. It was going to be another $100 towards college, and the free food didn’t hurt: half her good meals were coming from her catering gigs now, given that Lisa kept making cheap diet foods for the family, food that tasted more like packaging material than nutrition.
The stepfamily brought in their dishes and ignored Eleanor as if she was just an appliance, but that was how things were every night: Eleanor worked, came home, and worked at home. She wasn’t paying rent, but her accommodations were less than ideal: the twins had taken her room when they moved in, because Lisa had whined to Eleanor’s father that the twins needed a big room to make the move easier, so Eleanor had been mature and moved to a small room in the attic without a fuss.
The best part about being ignored was being invisible: Eleanor could just grab her coat and leave, and once she finished the dishes, she did just that, grabbing her coat and heading out into the chilly Seattle air for a walk.
Out in the city streets, Eleanor felt depressed: she walked these streets daily for work and for errands, but after a few blocks, Eleanor was at her favorite place in Seattle: a small park with a pond. She sat down on her favorite bench and watched her nighttime friends break up the dark, placid waters.
Eleanor would come down to the pond daily to feed her friends extra food, and tonight, she’d brought the
m frozen vegetables, as the bread was bad for their digestive systems. “Hey you guys,” she said as she made her way over to the pond. “Hope you’re hungry, this was getting freezer burn.” She tossed a handful of frozen bits of veggies into the water and the geese went nuts, except for a single goose that walked up to her and sat by the bench.
“Hey there, Gary,” said Eleanor to her goose friend. “How’re you doing?” She held out her hand and Gary gently nibbled at the bits of food. Over the last few months, Gary had become Eleanor’s closest friend.
Eleanor sat down on the bench and watched her goose friends: the baby goslings had almost turned into fully adult geese. “It must be amazing to get to watch your babies grow up,” said Eleanor with a sigh. “I watched those goslings grow up and I love’m to death, but here I am, sitting alone, and I’m frikkin’ jealous of some geese.”
Gary honked a knowing honk.
“Yeah, I know: I shouldn’t be so negative,” said Eleanor. “I’ve got to keep a chin up. It’s going to be hard tomorrow. I’ve got work, this Asher Ball thing, and my stepsisters are going to be there. The last time they were somewhere I was working, they harassed me and made a scene and I almost got fired. I don’t want a repeat of that.”
Eleanor threw another handful of veggies out towards the geese. “I just wish I could find true love, Gary. Girls like me don’t get that, though. It’s not like I’m a princess or something. I’m just a tubby hopeless romantic.”
Eleanor saw a flash of green light from across the lake, and then two green pin points shining at her from across the murky goose filled waters.
“What is that, Gary?” asked Eleanor. “Is that a dog?”
Eleanor squinted: the dimly lit park was barely lit by the moonlight, but as the clouds moved away from the moon and let its beams shine down on the park, Eleanor gasped as she realized what she was watching.
Big. Brown. Covered in fur from head to toe...with two large paws, there was no mistaking the animal across the lake for anything but a brown bear. Brown bears had been known to wander into Seattle, and Eleanor had no idea what to do except listen to her instincts.
“Holy shizz, it’s a bear,” yelled Eleanor, getting up from the bench and backing away. “Gary, run!”
She pulled off one of her ratty shoes and threw it at the geese in the water. “Fly away, guys!” she ordered, and the geese honked and followed Gary up into the air.
Eleanor looked around for the bear which seemed to be gone...but she felt hot breath on her neck. Eleanor slowly turned around: the bear was right behind her, breathing down her neck.
“Shit,” shouted Eleanor, and she took off running, not looking back to see if the bear was on her tail until she was halfway through the park. The bear was sitting in the park, watching Eleanor but not chasing her. Eleanor kept running.
It wasn’t until Eleanor was two blocks away from the park that she stopped running and started walking, catching her breath. Drat, even my shoe is going solo now, she thought. I’m going to have to buy sneakers now: another frikkin’ expense. She slipped the other shoe off and carried it in her hands as she walked back to the house.
Eleanor dropped off her lonely sneaker in the mudroom, leaving it on the floor without a mate. Eleanor’s stepmother and her daughters were watching TV in the living room. Eleanor headed upstairs quietly and opened the attic door, slipping away before they asked where she’d been. Who was she kidding: they didn’t care.
Eleanor turned on the lights in the attic. Going to her room was the favorite part of her day. She laid out her work outfit for the next day: standard black pants, a white shirt, a belt, worn black socks, and black sneakers that she’d patched up with a Sharpie, shoes she only wore for work. She set her alarm and tucked into bed.
***
The next morning, Eleanor woke up, packed her change of clothes for her first and second jobs, packed her medical kit, and headed to her first job, scrubbing toilets at the local elementary school. The kids were polite to her and the job, while not glamorous, was regular and reliable work, although she was often mistaken for one of the teachers.
When the other employees went home to relax, Eleanor used one of the bathrooms to get changed into her catering work clothes before taking the bus to Asher Manor, a historic building downtown that was Seattle’s equivalent of Buckingham Palace. With sprawling gardens and wings that took up entire city blocks, the place was bustling, full of life as decorators and caterers brought the party to life.
Eleanor made her way to a desk that was marked “EMPLOYEE CHECK-IN”. “Eleanor Albertson,” said Eleanor to a thin blonde with glasses and a clipboard.
“Albertson, Albertson...this says you’re to report to the Asher’s private wing,” said the blonde. She pulled out a paper map and marked the location with an X.
“The private wing?” asked Eleanor with a furrowed brow. “I think there must be a mistake, I’m with the catering company.”
“Be Our Guest Catering?” asked the blonde. “Because they’re listed as your employer on the sheet, so your assignment should be accurate. Maybe you’re tending a private bar?”
“Maybe,” said Eleanor, furrowing her brow. “Thanks.” She looked up at Asher Manor and down at her paper and back up again, figuring out what direction she needed to go before walking through the large double doors.
The inside of Asher Manor was breathtaking: the interior had hardwood floors covered in dark burgundy Persian carpets, stately portraits lining the halls, portraits of the past Asher matriarchs and patriarchs, scions of industry and barons (or bear-ons, as the case may be) of various markets. Paintings by artists both ancient and modern lined the walls as Eleanor made her way to the Asher family’s personal wing. She followed a hall of pastoral paintings to the room she’d been assigned to and knocked on the door.
“Hello?” she called. “Be Our Guest Catering.”
“Come on in,” said a woman, and Eleanor opened the door to the room. The interior of the room looked like it had fallen out of the 1920s and into the modern day: art deco furnishings made the room look like a flapper’s dream, and a mirror with marquee bulbs illuminated the room. A woman sat on a pouf in front of the vanity.
“Hello, you must be Eleanor,” said the older woman, turning around. The older woman was wearing a deep purple gown the color of the amethyst signet ring on her finger. The woman was matronly but tall, even sitting down: definitely a shifter. “My name is Jennifer, Jennifer Asher.”
“Hi, Mrs. Asher,” said Eleanor, shaking Mrs. Asher’s hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“In fact, you can,” said Mrs. Asher. “I was wondering if you’d do me a favor at this ball.”
“Anything, ma’am,” said Eleanor.
“This year, I want someone on the ground making sure that the ball is an absolute blast,” explained Mrs. Asher. “You were recommend highly by the catering company: they said that you were a delightful worker, and so I was wondering if you’d help me out by making sure all the food, drinks, and activities are fun for all.”
“How will I do that?” asked Eleanor. “Do you just want me to keep an eye out?”
“Well, I’d really prefer for you to be discreet,” said Mrs. Asher. “So, if it isn’t too much trouble, could you get changed into something a little more...fancy?” Mrs. Asher got up from her white chair and pulled a dress bag off of a rack. She unzipped it and pulled out the precious inner contents.
The dress was more beautiful than anything Eleanor had seen in her life. In three shades of blue, from light blue at the top to Stygian blue (a blue so deep it was practically black) at the hem, the dress had a royal blue sash at the waist that reminder her of the sashes that princesses seemed to always wear in press photos. The top had a scoop neckline with lace on the shoulders. There were two layers of petticoats that shaped it and gave it some bounce. Small blue gems were sown along the neckline and the hem, which was edged with dark blue lace.
“Mrs. Asher...there must be some
mistake,” said Eleanor. “There’s no way that dress is going to fit me.”
“You wear a 2XL uniform, yes?” said Mrs. Asher. “Your company told me your measurements...this was made to your exact measurements, Eleanor. At least try it on.”
Eleanor gulped. “Okay,” she said, and Mrs. Asher left the room, leaving Eleanor with the dress. Eleanor fingered the lace on the edge of the dress: the dress looked as bright as day on the top and as dark as night on the bottom, and various nature images were embroidered into the fabric subtly, without making it stiff. This dress was priceless, and Eleanor knew, she just knew, that if she tried that dress on, it would split right in two...but Mrs. Asher had given her an order.
Eleanor slipped her uniform off deftly and found the zipper on the back of the dress. She unzipped it and slipped the dress over her body, waiting for it to catch, waiting to hear the sound of ripping chiffon, of seams splitting...but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Before she forgot, she slipped her cellphone into her pocket, as it had all her alarms in it. She reached back and tried to zip the dress up, and was sure that she’d be unable to, but the zipper slid right up, and the fit and flare ballgown dress, with its fitted bodice, made her look like a princess.
Mrs. Asher knocked. “Come in,” said Eleanor, and Mrs. Asher came into the room with a black box.
“You look perfect...well, almost perfect,” said Mrs. Asher. “These are for you.” Mrs. Asher opened the box, and Eleanor couldn’t believe her eyes: inside the box was the most beautiful pair of shoes that she’d ever seen. They looked as if they’d been made of cut crystal, as they glittered and glistened in the low light of the dressing room. Eleanor lifted one out of the box and was surprised at its lightness: the shoe looked to be made of solid glass but it was as light as plastic, but sturdier. Eleanor slipped a shoe on.
“A perfect fit,” said Mrs. Asher. Eleanor slipped on the next shoe, and the two shoes glittered as brightly as the sun and as deeply as the stars. “They’re made of a composite of synthetic sapphires and something...well, I’d like to say magic, but really, a secret proprietary mix of experimental ingredients I won’t bother you with.”
