Modern Fairy Tale: Twelve Books of Breathtaking Romance

by Kristen Proby

  I have no hands free to catch myself, they’re still cuffed behind me and so my shoulder hits the ground first, then my face. The hint of blood fills my mouth, and pain shoots up my shoulder.

  Fuck, it hurts. Everything hurts.

  I rock onto my back as I cry out.

  Please, make it stop. Please. I wish I could take myself away from here. I wish it were only a dream. But as my arm twists and scrapes on the cement in an effort to right myself, I know this is real. I can’t escape this. I whimper and give into the pain. There is no nightmare to wake from. This is my reality.

  “You said you’d back me if I gave her to you!” A violent scream tears through the small room. My neck cranes to see the man who spoke over a table. A rough and splintered, unfinished wood table. The man’s dress shirt looks damp with sweat and his face glistens with it too. Dark, black eyes stare across the room toward me, but not looking at me. The anger on his face is undeniable and I can’t look anywhere else as he screams words that make my body shudder with fear. “I won’t let you go back on this!” My eyes close tight.

  I’ve heard the whispers of war for years from man after man. It’s been so long since I’ve actually feared the hint of it. Maybe that’s where I made my first mistake. I forgot that I should be terrified and that the dangers are always lurking and waiting to strike.

  Please take me far away from here. I can imagine this going wrong so quickly. I could be shot and never even given the chance to escape. My heart races wildly and the terror makes my body tremble.

  “And now you’ve damaged her,” the man, the one with control, says quietly and calmly but with an uncontained anger that’s brimming with threats. The deadliness of his simple sentence silences the room once again. It’s only then that I dare to open my eyes, slowly peeking up through my lashes.

  Dark eyes stare deep into mine as a tall man crouches down in front of me. Not black like the other man’s, not so darkened. But a mixture of browns and amber, like a piece of burned wood from a raging fire.

  There’s no heat there though. His eyes are so cold they make my blood freeze and instantly the air turns to ice. There’s a hint of something in his gaze that speaks of inexplicable things. My body tenses, my lungs fear to move and I stay still like prey caught in the beautiful hunter’s gaze.

  Time passes slowly as he considers me. And I find myself hoping and praying that he’ll save me. How ridiculous that I would, but there’s something about his eyes. I can’t refuse the pull, the electricity surrounding him that seems to bend the air between us, making me feel closer to him. So close that he could save me.

  His intentions aren’t any better than these men. But there’s only one of him and he’s a man of control. I prefer that to the chaos I’m currently in.

  I know it. He can save me.

  Even if it’s only by killing me right now in this moment and ending the pain. And I’m acutely aware he could do it. There’s not a thing about him that could hide the fact that he’s a ruthless, cold-hearted killer.

  His fingers brush along his stubble as he tilts his head, considering me. The sole light overhead, a bright light in the middle of the room casts a shadow down his face that somehow makes his chiseled and hard jaw look even sharper.

  His presence alone speaks of a power that steals the air from me. I’m nothing beneath him as he towers over me. My eyes close slowly as he reaches out and gently brushes the hair from my face. His hot touch melts everything inside of me. It’s tender but deliberate. The soothing caress makes me weaker as his fingers travel down my chin and to my throat.

  His masculinity is undeniable, the fear of his power only adding to the forbidden desire that rages through me. The man is everything I’ve been taught to fear, although the sensation is mixed with something else entirely. Something I’d never admit.

  And that’s when he grips me, his fingers wrapping around my throat and forcing me to open my eyes, staring back into the dark abyss of his gaze.

  Chapter Five

  Carter

  “I asked for her, yes,” I finally answer Romano although I’m still staring at Aria’s face, those lips of hers parted and swollen from the fall as I tighten my grip just slightly. Anger ripples through me at the sight of the fresh wounds. That fucker put his hands on her. They hurt her. They hurt what’s mine. The tic in my jaw spasms again as the rage intensifies. They should know better than to touch what’s mine.

  I force the boiling rage down to a simmer; I’m not a fool. There are six men in this room and only one is on my side. I’m not just outnumbered. I’m not prepared to fight. And I don’t intend to either.

  I want to take my gift and leave this prick to his war. I want that feeling back, humming in my veins. The sheer power of having her at my mercy, feeling her breath cut short and her blood rushing beneath my grasp. She’s mine. Finally.

  “But not for a beaten and broken version of her,” I grit the words through my teeth and they come out lower than I expected. I’m barely contained as I loosen my grip, allowing her to break eye contact and suck in a deep breath.

  If I hear another plea or whimper from her in reaction to this fucker, I know I’ll shoot Romano without a second thought. And that can’t happen. Not yet. The second I get my hands on Aria, her father will be after me. I need Romano to distract him just as much as Romano needs me.

  Romano doesn’t answer, and I imagine it’s because my back is to him as I look over Aria. But he’ll have to fucking deal with that. So long as she’s here, she’ll be looking at me and no one else.

  I scan every inch of her and each time I see an injury, my teeth clench, and my muscles coil. The cut on her swollen lip. The scratches and scrapes around her wrists. There’s a bruise on her arm and I’m sure there are more I can’t see.

  “We just got her two hours ago. She’s not broken. You better not fuck me over.” Romano’s words are rushed and desperate as I stand tall, leaving the girl where she is.

  My heart races, but I don’t let on. To them, she’s only a girl I randomly chose. A girl who was harder to kidnap. Just a challenge for them and nothing more.

  “This isn’t a fight or debate,” I tell Romano with my back still to him. I want him to know in his truest of hearts that I’m the one helping him, and it’s only out of my desire to do so. He’s fucked over more than one of his allies in the past. I’m going to make him think twice before he decides I can be used as a pawn.

  Even knowing how much is at stake in this very moment, I can hardly think.

  I can’t pry my eyes from Aria. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she rolls onto her side. Her lips are a gorgeous hue of red. Her hair tousled and flowing over her bare shoulder. But what’s better is how she keeps looking at me with a mixture of both fear and hope swirling in those striking hazel eyes. I didn’t imagine she’d look like this. The sight is addictive.

  “Plea–” she starts to say – to me – but Romano cuts her off. His sickening and desperate voice hushes the soft sounds of her speaking to me. My fists clench, nearly splitting the tight skin across my tense knuckles and instantly my suit feels like it’s suffocating me. His ignorance will be the death of him.

  “We had a deal and it will benefit both of us, Cross.”

  As I loosen my collar, walking closer to him in the filthy room, he continues, “You don’t have to do anything but give me that territory, Carter.” He raises his hands in defense when I stare daggers at him. “Only for a little while, just so we can strike first. You’re closer to Talvery. You don’t want your men to do the work, so what other choice do I have than to take it over?”

  My gaze sweeps over a pile of crates in the corner of the room. There are three of them on top of empty pallets. The wooden table is etched and weathered. I can only imagine the blood and sweat and drugs that have seeped into the wood. Even over the smell of smoke, the stench is revolting.

  Each man in the room is dressed similarly, except myself and Jase. I always wear a suit; it’s better to overdress
than under. Romano’s attempt at an ill-fitting suit didn’t last long. His wrinkled jacket is a puddle of cheap fabric laying across the back of his chair. The others wear nondescript hoodies and shirts with faded baggy jeans. Each of the thugs looks at me as I survey them, and each one of their questioning gazes falls without a word uttered from their insignificant lips.

  And then I look back to her. Back to the soft curves of her waist, the messy halo of dark hair around her pale skin. Her slender throat that’s so exposed as she writhes quietly and hopelessly on the ground. This beautiful, broken creature. She’s all mine.

  “Your men are positioned between Fourth and Weston, give that territory to me so I can take his men down.” Romano starts to speak terms. “We’ll take them all down at the same time on every edge of his territory. Any man who stands against us after that will die. It’s simple. They back us, or they die like the rest of them.”

  “I’ve heard this all before,” I mutter. He says he’ll kill them all. Erase any trace of Talvery from our existence. It’s related to unfinished business started a decade before me. All in the name of greed.

  “Just give me access to that territory and the suppliers for the guns.” He reeks of desperation as he adds, “That’s what you agreed to!”

  I expected a lot of things when I came here. But this amount of irritation is something I never accounted for. As the seconds pass, I imagine how I could kill each and every one of the men in this room. How long it would take. How many shots they’d get off. Jase is behind me and I know he could hold his own.

  I have to will away the temptation and eagerness to get Aria alone. Leaving the image of her beautiful figure crumpled at my feet, I focus on the business at hand.

  “You want me to back down, clear the path for your men?” I ask him.

  “They’ll never see it coming if we take them from both your side and mine. We take over on the edge of your territory—” I cut the fucker off before he can finish.

  “He’ll think it’s me killing them off. When his men around the edge of my territory start dying, he’ll come after me without a second thought.” My words come out deadly. “This isn’t me starting a war, it’s you.”

  “I’m giving her to you for a reason.” He rushes his words with sincere bewilderment.

  “No deal,” I say and turn to leave, but Aria’s whimper pierces through the air. Even without a word spoken, I can hear her plea not to leave her at their mercy. It does things to me that it shouldn’t. Just the knowledge that the threat of my absence can create a reaction from her is everything to me in this moment.

  “Wait!” Romano’s hands smack on the wooden table in the center of the room. “What if,” he swallows visibly as he pushes off the table and then lets out a heavy breath. I peek at Jase for the first time since we’ve been in here. In a slim-fitting suit and his arms hanging loosely in front of him, he could be the usher at a fucking wedding right now. Well, if it weren’t for the glare on his face that can only be read one way, for anyone looking at him to fuck off.

  “What if…” he pauses and clears his throat before looking me in the eye. “Once I take over Talvery’s territory, we could split it.” He earns himself a small reaction from me, the tilt of my head for him to continue. “I want to start flooding the product at the top, closest to just outside of the tri-state area, to keep the cops away from our bases.”

  “And?” I question him. “None of this is relevant to splitting a damn thing.”

  “I only need his territory in the Upper West Side. I don’t even have enough men to cover the rest,” he says in a lighter, nearly comical tone as if the problem’s already been solved.

  “I’m not interested in more territory,” I state, and my barely spoken words cause the hopeful expression on his face to fade. “But I’d happily take a percentage of the profits to cover my losses,” I offer. “Fifteen percent every quarter until my losses are paid.”

  “Deal.” Romano is so quick to oblige, even his own men stare at him rather than at me. They can’t be that stupid. An even-numbered war is never a good thing. They need men and territory and backing. I’ll give them the minimum, and pray they still kill each other off.

  I nod my head once. “Deal,” I say and while forcing a semblance of a smile to my lips, I offer him an outstretched hand.

  I have to keep the grin from spreading as I turn my attention back to the wide-eyed girl, still tied up on the floor. “Jase.” I speak to my brother although I keep my gaze on her, “Put her in the trunk.”

  Chapter Six

  Aria

  It’s odd, the things that you think when you’re alone for hours in a room filled with nothing but hopelessness and anger. Some thoughts make sense of course.

  Thoughts of Mika and how he should have been there. He should have been at the bar, and I find myself wondering if he knew. If he took my notebook because he knew how much I loved my art and I’d know he had it and come after him. I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t expect me to go after it. Or else why do it? I’ve spent hours trying to determine the intentions of a psychotic asshole.

  But the truth is that I wouldn’t have gone after him for any other reason. I wouldn’t have left the safety of home… if that picture hadn’t been tucked safely inside.

  The thoughts of Mika and how bleak my reality is seem reasonable.

  Other thoughts though… other thoughts don’t make sense.

  Like the flashbacks of my mother.

  I’ve been haunted by so many images of what happened the day she died for years now. But none of those keep me company as I rock on the cement floor in the corner of the cell.

  It’s the sweeter things I remember that are driving me mad.

  My thumb brushes against the cut on my lip, sending a sharp pain through me that reminds me this isn’t a dream.

  “Aria,” I hear my mother call out for me in the memory. I was hiding in the closet, so proud that I’d hidden so well. “Ria?” Her voice changed to fear and desperation, and my smile vanished. “Ria, please!” she begged as her hushed cry from the hallway beckoned me to show myself. My fingers gripped the door of the closet just as she forced the guest room door open. I remember how her light blue dress swung around her knees. How her perfectly pinned hair didn’t come undone. Yet her voice and her bearing were nothing but distraught.

  I wish I could go back to that moment. Where she was running toward me and so close. Where she’d inevitably be in reach.

  “Don’t hide from me.” Her words were ragged as she pulled me into her chest. She rocked me too fast, she held me too hard before gripping my arms and making me look her in the eyes. I’ll never forget how hers watered over. “You can’t hide like that.” Her words were so pained, they came out as only a whisper.

  “I’m sorry, Momma,” I tried to speak the words, so she knew I meant them. “I was only playing.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she pulled me back into her arms and rocked me.

  She whispered many things, but the one that’s stayed with me is that we don’t live in a world where we can play.

  I should have known better than to run after Mika.

  Every possible situation of a setup runs through my head as I bite my thumbnail and rock against the cement wall. I can’t sit. My legs beg me to run, but with nowhere to go, I simply stand and lean on the far wall across from the door. Waiting for it to open.

  I was only playing myself, thinking that I could prove myself to be anything when I went to hunt down Mika. I was childish and foolish. I can hear my mother saying it now. How foolish she was, she said it all the time before she died. And foolish is what I’ve become.

  I keep whispering that I’m sorry, and I know the man is watching me. Carter. That’s what the men called him.

  Carter Cross. I know he can hear my whispers of despair.

  I’m not saying it to him though; it’s an apology to my mother. I should have known better than to chase after the memory of her in that picture.
The words are spoken as I focus on the metal drain in the corner of the room.

  Between the toilet, mattress, and drain, I know this room is meant for prisoners, but also for torture and murder. One and then the other.

  I’ve searched every inch; the sides of my hands are bruised from pounding against the tall steel door. There’s simply no escape. One way in, and one way out.

  I should have fought harder when Jase Cross, Carter’s brother from what I overheard, held the rag to my mouth.

  Stolen, drugged, and reassigned to a prison: that’s what my life has become.

  The faint sounds of the camera moving drag my attention back to it. It’s the one thing in the room I wish I could destroy. There’s only one from what I can tell, and it’s in the far right corner of the room.

  But the camera is encased in cement and untouchable, if throwing the metal chair was any indication. As I stare at the mattress, I wrap my arms around myself. I won’t sleep on it; there’s no way my back will ever touch it.

  I suck in a deep breath, reliving the feeling of those dark eyes pinning me in place.

  I know what he wants from me, but he’ll have to fight me to get it. I’ll kick him, bite him, scratch him until my nails break and bleed.

  I’ll make him regret this if it’s the last thing I do.

  My fingers lift slowly up to my jaw and then trail down my throat. Remembering how his gentle comfort so easily became a threat.

  My heart thumps hard, once then twice as I hear the fucking camera move again.

  “What are you moving it for?” I scream out like a madwoman, as loud as I can. My throat is hoarse from the screaming before, my body screaming along with me in a shuddered breath.

  “I’m not fucking going anywhere!” I scream again and then wrap my arms tighter around myself as I fall to the floor on my ass and then my side. Just the way I was when that monster first found me.