Wickedly Charming

by Kristine Grayson

Ella was out of his girls’ lives, and by definition, out of his.

  He waited, expecting to feel something—a wave of loss, and grief. Instead, he just felt sadness that his girls lost their mother.

  Or rather, lost the idea of their mother. They had never had the kind of mother they deserved.

  “I’ll let you know if there are any updates,” Gussie said. “I don’t expect any. But then, I’ve never been one for keeping an eye on Ella.”

  “But your investigator will?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Gussie said. “We have alerts set all over the Kingdoms. We’ll hear if she goes off the deep end again.”

  “Thanks, Gus,” he said.

  “Don’t thank me until you see the bill,” she said, laughed, and hung up.

  He sat for a moment on the chair, one foot resting on the stool the salesman usually sat on. Charming clutched the phone in his left hand, and bowed his head.

  His marriage was officially over, his wife gone. The fear he’d had, just hours ago, dissipated.

  He looked at his girls, so lovely as they thumbed through the racks of men’s suits. Those girls were one hundred percent his now. His responsibility. If they turned out badly, it would be on him. If they turned out well, it would be on him too.

  And now he’d have to deal with the loss of their mother, which would be tough, because she hadn’t died. But the net effect was the same. She was gone from their lives forever.

  He wished he could speak to Mellie. Mellie understood children. He didn’t. Mellie would know how to raise them, how to soften the blow.

  Mellie would know what to tell the girls and what to leave out.

  Imperia held up a dove-gray suit. It wasn’t a color he would normally wear, but even from here, the suit looked regal. Leave it to Imp to find something offbeat but beautiful.

  He smiled at her, a real smile, and stood. Then he tucked the phone in his pocket and made his way to the girls.

  “Who was that?” Imperia asked, clutching the suit to her chest.

  “Gussie,” he said.

  “Is it about yesterday?” Imperia asked.

  Charming nodded. He waited for her to ask about her mother, but she didn’t.

  “Everything’s okay now,” he said.

  “Except the stuff with your friend here in Boston,” Imperia said with a bite to her voice.

  “I hope we’ll solve that this afternoon,” he said. “In New York.”

  He looked at the salesman, who held up a pale silver-blue shirt, a black silk tie and a matching pocket handkerchief. It all went with the suit, and none of it was something Charming would have picked out for himself.

  But he had said he trusted his daughters, so he tried the outfit on. The suit made him look slimmer. The shirt and tie, with the matching pocket handkerchief, made him look stylish.

  He touched his hair, feeling good for the first time in months. He would like to have blamed that on the suit, but he had a hunch it had more to do with Mellie and the night they spent together.

  Or the time they spent together. She had left long before the night was over.

  He smiled to himself, thinking of her. She would never leave children, like Ella did. In fact, Mellie had suffered a lot for her children and her stepchildren, including the damaged reputation.

  It took a lot of strength not to defend herself against all the charges that people in the Second Kingdom had leveled against her. She had never told anyone that she had burned up her magic saving Snow’s life.

  Which was probably the best decision, given what people thought of her. So many people wouldn’t have believed her, even though the magic proved that she hadn’t lied.

  Only powerful good magic drained like that. Evil magic fed on itself, twisting and perverting the user. But Mellie had sent her magic away, using it to prop up Snow, until someone could find a way to give her back her life.

  But that wouldn’t give Mellie her magic back. She had to wait for that well to refill, and it might take another hundred years.

  He closed his eyes for just a moment, as he realized what was going on. He was falling in love with Mellie.

  Or maybe he had already fallen.

  He just wasn’t sure when.

  He came out of the changing room. His girls ooed and ahhed. The suit needed hemming. The salesman measured, and promised to have the light tailoring done within the hour.

  Once the measuring was finished and he had changed back into his own clothes, he took his daughters to the girls’ department. He bought (exceedingly expensive) underwear and (slightly less expensive) socks. Then let the girls each pick out two outfits. Grace wanted a nightshirt as well, but he told her that she was going to sleep in her T-shirt for this trip.

  He had them change into the dressier of their new outfits in the changing room. Even though the girls hadn’t wanted dressy outfits (“Dad, we’re traveling,” Imperia said), he insisted, since they had to accompany him to Mellie’s publishing company in the afternoon.

  Fortunately for all of them that meeting was after lunch, which gave him time to finish up here and catch a train to New York. He was pushing the timing, but he hoped it would all work out.

  Grace came out first, wearing a short-sleeved pink tunic over a matching pair of pants. The entire outfit made her look older than she was, which tore at Charming’s heart.

  He almost told her to put the clothes back, but the clerk beside him gasped.

  “What a beautiful little girl you have, sir,” she said softly.

  Grace smiled, her entire face lighting up. “Me?” she asked.

  “Of course, you,” the clerk said. “You’re stunning.”

  Grace loved the compliment. Usually people called Imperia beautiful and Grace sweet. He’d never be able to get her to buy something else now.

  “C’mere, beautiful,” he said.

  Grace came up beside him and slipped her hand in his.

  “Where’s your book?” he asked.

  “Imp has it,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  While they waited for Imperia, he paid for the clothes. He spent more than he had planned to.

  As the clerk bagged the last item, Imperia came out of the dressing room. She wore a pale blue short-sleeved jacket over a pair of blue pants. Her shirt was black with a slogan written across it.

  That’s Imperial Princess to you, Buddy.

  She had found the shirt and loved it. He loved it too. It looked like it had been made for her. But he had warned her it was too casual for the afternoon. Only she had found a way to dress it up.

  His Imperia was going to be a fashion maven as she got older.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “That’s striking,” the clerk said, and Charming was absurdly grateful she hadn’t told Imperia she was beautiful too. He didn’t want Grace to lose the joy she had in that compliment.

  “Thanks,” Imperia said, nodding and heading toward her father.

  She carried a shopping bag filled with their clothes. Grace opened it, and made certain her book was inside.

  “I told you I’d bring it,” Imperia snapped.

  “Imp,” Charming said, a warning in his voice.

  “I did,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. “She was just making sure. I told her to.”

  Imperia glared at him, but she didn’t flounce off. She waited as he thanked the children’s wear clerk for coming in early.

  Then he took the girls back down to menswear. As they rode the escalator, he turned to Imperia.

  “What’s bothering you this morning?” he asked, expecting a litany about showers, breakfast, and being away from home.

  “That woman,” Imperia said.

  He wondered what the clerk had done, and he hoped it wasn’t calling Grace beautiful.

  “Which one?” he said, hoping to steer the conversation away from clothes.

  “The one who came to our room last night.”

  Charming stiffened. He had thought the girls were asleep.
/>   “She’s the woman you wrote the book for, right?” Imperia asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I didn’t know she was pretty,” Imperia said.

  Charming smiled. “She is, isn’t she?”

  They reached the bottom of the escalator.

  “She’s just using magic to make herself look pretty,” Imperia said. “She’s really an ugly old hag underneath.”

  Then she flounced away, heading toward menswear.

  “Is that true?” Grace asked.

  “No, honey,” Charming said. “Mellie doesn’t have magic anymore.”

  “How come?” Grace asked.

  “I think she used it all up.” He took her hand and followed Imperia to the menswear section. “I thought you guys slept through the whole night.”

  “I did,” Grace said. “Imp spied on you guys.”

  Great, Charming thought. Just great.

  “Did she tell you what she saw?”

  “She said you had breakfast in the middle of the night.”

  “We did,” Charming said, worrying that Imperia had seen the prelude to breakfast.

  “The smell woke her up,” Grace said. “It didn’t wake me up. I was tired.”

  Charming nodded. If breakfast woke up Imperia, then she saw nothing untoward. And more importantly, she didn’t hear what her mother had done.

  Grace frowned. “Imp said that woman is an evil stepmother. Is that true?”

  He sighed. “That’s what I wrote the book about. Mellie’s not really evil.”

  “Like Gramma Lavinia?” Grace asked.

  “Like Gramma Lavinia,” Charming said, silently thanking the gods for his understanding youngest daughter.

  They reached the menswear section. Imperia was waiting for them near the ties, pretending interest in the gaudiest of them.

  He wanted to ask her right then and there what she saw, but he didn’t dare. The other clerk came over with Charming’s newly adjusted suit.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told his girls. “You wait just outside this door.”

  He went into the changing area. He could see their feet through the opening at the bottom of the booth.

  He changed in a hurry, his mind working overtime, worrying about what Imperia overheard. Clearly it all upset her.

  He just wasn’t sure what he could do about any of it.

  He came out, feeling like a certified grown-up in expensive grown-up clothes. He had grown-up problems too.

  He bought one more item—a small rolling suitcase—and packed their other clothes inside.

  Then he led the girls to the train station, so that they could catch the express to New York.

  Chapter 42

  The first thing Mellie noticed was that publishing offices looked nothing like she expected. Oh, they started out exactly like her imagination told her they would. They were in big New York buildings, many floors, banks and banks and banks of elevators, and name after name after name listed on sign boards against the wall.

  Mellie didn’t have time to look for her editor’s name. LaTisha led her to an elevator marked 15 to 34, and got inside. The elevator made the elevators at the Boston hotel look like they needed an upgrade. This one was roomy and big enough for a dozen people. The only floors it stopped at were the floors between 15 and 34.

  The doors opened on a stunning reception area. Wide, filled with plants and books, the reception area looked incredibly inviting. The latest New York Times bestsellers published by the company sat on a display, as well as on some of the nearby tables. Mellie was surprised to see Evil there. She would have thought they had taken the book down already.

  The receptionist nodded at LaTisha. “The meeting is in Conference A.”

  LaTisha headed toward steel doors at the back of the room. Mellie was supposed to follow, but she didn’t. Instead, she stopped at the reception desk.

  “A friend is supposed to join us,” Mellie said. “His name is Dave Encanto. He’ll be here shortly.”

  At least, she hoped he would. She hadn’t heard from him all morning and that made her nervous. But this was his idea, so she was going along with it.

  “Should I send him back?” the receptionist asked.

  “Better bring him back,” LaTisha said. “He’d get lost otherwise.”

  She waited for Mellie with the door half-open. Mellie smiled at the receptionist, then headed to LaTisha.

  As LaTisha opened the door the rest of the way, she said, “So this Encanto guy is real.”

  “Yes,” Mellie said.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” LaTisha said sarcastically.

  The back part of the publishing company was what shocked Mellie. The building, the elevators, the reception area, were all what she expected, but the back was a messy rabbit warren of stuff. Books, manuscripts, ARCs, and cover samples were strewn along the wall because, she realized the deeper she got into the main part of the building, there was nowhere else for them to go.

  The hallway led to tiny office after tiny office, each of which had one desk, overflowing bookshelves, two chairs, and paper everywhere, even in this digital age. All of them had computers too, most decorated with little trinkets.

  None of the offices had windows, which would have driven Mellie bonkers.

  Then, the hallway emptied into what had once been a lot of open floor space. Now, however, someone had set up cubicles, which looked just like the offices, only with carpet walls and no ceiling. Papers everywhere, no bookcases (of course) but books littering every surface, and that ubiquitous computer decorated with personal trinkets.

  LaTisha rounded a corner. Mellie followed, and finally saw offices again, these a little larger, and all with windows (overlooking the buildings across the way). Those offices were a bit better, but not much, and certainly not as glamorous as those portrayed in the movies. For one thing, no desk was polished, and none had an empty surface.

  Finally they got to the corner of the building, and there again was something Mellie expected: a gorgeous conference room—windows on two walls with a view of the city, a lovely long conference table with comfortable chairs on all sides, a sideboard covered with coffee, tea, bottles of water, and pastries.

  Mellie’s stomach growled. Her agent had called her at the airport and asked her to lunch. She had turned him down because she had been too nervous to eat and because she hadn’t met this person, although she had talked to him on the phone. He hadn’t known about Charming either, except as a friend who “helped” with the book, and Mellie was afraid she’d hear recriminations all over again.

  “Have a seat,” LaTisha said as she opened the door to the conference room. “I’ll let everyone know we’re here.”

  Mellie walked in. The conference room was cooler and smelled of recycled air. She resisted the urge to sit at the head of the table, going, instead, to the windows and looking out.

  On the street below, New Yorkers walked with purpose. She had never seen a town where people walked so fast and with such determination. They all seemed to have somewhere to go—in a hurry.

  The door opened, and she turned, hoping it was Charming.

  Instead, a man she had never seen before came in. He wore a well-tailored suit, and he had silver hair, which would have made him look distinguished if he weren’t short and round (with a ketchup stain on his lapel).

  “Marcus Hall,” he said.

  Her agent. She hadn’t escaped him after all.

  “I’m glad we have a moment,” he said. “I’ve been watching the news coverage. It was a bit of a surprise.”

  “Yes, it was,” she said.

  “They won’t pull the book,” he said, apparently trying to be reassuring. “It’s making too much money for them, and now, with this controversy, it’ll make even more. But they might want some kind of retraction from you, maybe a statement—”

  “You believe the press coverage then,” she said.

  That stopped him. “I don’t know what to believe,” he said.

/>   At that moment, a team of other people came into the room, led by LaTisha. A thin man in shirt sleeves, a heavy-set man in a three-piece suit, three women in blouses and skirts, and a harried looking woman wearing khaki pants and a summer sweater with the sleeves rolled up.

  She was the only person who introduced herself.

  “I’m Mary Linda McIntosh,” she said.

  She looked like Mellie imagined an editor would look—a serious, bookish woman who worked much too hard. She had a worry frown between her intelligent eyes.

  She extended her hand, and Mellie took it, introducing herself even though an introduction wasn’t necessary.

  “This took us all by surprise,” Mary Linda said.

  “Me, too,” Mellie said.

  “I understand someone is joining us?” the thin man said.

  “Ch—Dave is here?” Mellie asked, trying not to sound too eager.

  “I just heard from reception. They’re sending him back,” the thin man said. “I’m Anthony Phillips, by the way, the president of this division.”

  “Mr. Phillips,” Mellie said.

  The others then introduced themselves. The man in the suit was the corporate lawyer. One of the women was a publisher, another the head of publicity, and the third the head of sales.

  Mellie didn’t understand the hierarchy or who exactly did what, but she noted that LaTisha sat at the far end of the table as if she felt that she didn’t belong. She probably didn’t, since she wasn’t the head of anything.

  “Yesterday did surprise us,” Phillips said.

  “Yes, I’m sorry,” Mellie said.

  “How much of what she said is true?” he asked.

  Mellie’s heart was pounding. She was much more nervous than she expected. “Can we wait for my friend?”

  “Is he your lawyer?” the lawyer asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “He’s Dave Encanto, one of the people Cindy Jordan mentioned,” LaTisha said.

  Mellie felt a bit of irritation. She had thought she and LaTisha had become friends. But ever since the interview, LaTisha had treated her like damaged goods.

  Mellie probably should have expected that. After all, it wasn’t the first time people believed the worst of her.

  “So this is all true?” Phillips asked.