Dashing: A Royal Cinderella Billionaire Story

by Brooks, Sophie

  We needed to get there—fast.

  Thompson said there was no place for the cars to pull up without being mobbed, but I told him the walkway to a neighboring hotel that Cara and I had used yesterday. He sent a man ahead to check the route.

  A few minutes later, he put his phone to his ear and had a quick conversation before turning to us. “Okay, that way’s clear at this time. Once there, we can take a service elevator to a sub-level loading area.”

  “An underground parking lot?”

  “It’s for staff vehicles only. We need to move before they discover where we are, sir.”

  I kept a vise-like grip on Cara as we followed Thompson. He led us through back hallways, but still, there were people around, some guests and some staff. Most were probably going about their days without the slightest care who we were or what we were doing. But all it took was one.

  If you put your trust in the wrong person even once, it could change everything. You could lose everything. I was fucking furious with myself for forgetting that.

  We crossed the tenth-floor walkway, Cara clinging to my arm. She was doing a great job of keeping up with men with much longer strides. She was a tough young woman.

  Another one of Thompson’s men was waiting by an ancient-looking service elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he tapped his earpiece, listening and then frowning. “Sir, it’s a no-go.”

  Thompson reacted instantly, hitting the stop button on the panel by the door—but the elevator didn’t stop—we were already passing the fifth floor. Then the fourth. He cursed and pressed the button for floor two, but the fucking, piece-of-shit elevator just kept moving.

  In desperation, he pressed other buttons, but the elevator continued its journey downward. I wanted to strangle whoever had inspected this fucking thing.

  The elevator jolted to a halt and the doors opened up to hell, to the throng of people jostling for position. Lights flashed and voices shouted. They weren’t even comprehensible, it was just a wall of noise engulfing us.

  My arms went around Cara, pressing her against me. “Stay close!” I shouted, but I wasn’t sure she heard me.

  Thompson’s men dove into the crowd, their arms out, trying to push the vultures out of the way. I followed as closely as I could, wanting Cara to be protected on all sides.

  The bastards were closing in on every side, shoving each other, banging against me. The corner of a camera struck my shoulder. I shoved the man nearest me away and urged Cara forward.

  The shouted questions were deafening, they filled my ears like warm, salty water. Cara bounced against me, and I knew someone had run into her. I held her as tight as I could, but it was like trying to protect her from a kraken rising from the depths of the sea to claim her.

  Ahead of me, Thompson fell to one knee, and I nearly tripped, my grip on Cara loosening as I strove for balance. Thompson was already back up, angrily shoving away the man who’d crashed into him. For just a moment, there was a break in the throng and I saw the waiting car.

  We were close. So close. Just at that moment, when I thought we were going to get out of this unscathed, someone slammed into me hard from behind. I stumbled, managing not to fall, but Cara was wrenched from my grasp.

  “Cara!”

  She’d already been swallowed up by the dark mass of wretched humanity. It was like trying to reach a person being pulled away by a strong tide.

  “Nico!”

  I heard my name. It was Cara—or was it Lisette, bobbing up and down in that dark water?

  I couldn’t find her. Panic filled me, like water pouring down my throat…

  Cara cried out, and I pushed through the crowd, searching frantically. Someone grabbed my arm and I balled up my fist and punched him. He fell back, but there were others rushing in like water filling a breached hull.

  Someone shouted in my ear, and I turned, my fist raised, but it was Thompson. I couldn’t hear what he said, but he pointed. I pushed through the crowd in the direction he’d indicated, and I saw a small gap in the throng—the kind of gap caused by someone on the ground.

  Howling with rage, I caught sight of her small figure. I knelt down, protecting her with my body. Was it too late, like it had been with Lisette? Had the vultures let the watery depths consume her?

  She stirred, and my heart started again. One arm was bare and covered in blood. I lifted her, her body light, her limbs motionless. Her coat trailed below her and I wrapped it around her and cradled her in my arms.

  The flashbulbs continued, the noise was worse, but all that mattered was that I’d found her in the sea of photographers. Thompson’s men renewed their efforts and the sea parted, revealing refuge. Holding Cara tightly to my chest, I half-climbed, half-fell inside the SUV

  More men piled in and then we were moving. Cara moaned in my arms, looking up me in a dazed manner.

  “God, Cara, are you all right?” Worry made my voice unrecognizable.

  “Did you hit your head when you fell?” Thompson asked.

  “She didn’t fall,” I growled. “Those animals pushed her.”

  “Sir, if she has a concussion, we need to get her to a hospital.”

  “Fuck that,” I spat out. “Take us to the plane. Get a doctor to meet us there.”

  “But if she’s—”

  “I’m okay,” Cara said weakly. “It’s just my arm…”

  I peeled her coat off and took a look. There was a large, deep gash on her forearm. It would definitely need stitches. “Anywhere else?”

  “Someone stepped on my leg, but I think it’s okay.”

  Unwilling to believe that, I examined her as best I could. She was dirty and disheveled and it was all my fucking fault. I never should have brought her here. Just like we never should’ve been out on that lake that night two years ago. It was all jumbled together, but in both cases I knew who to blame.

  Not those fuckers out there—they were the result. I was the cause.

  “I’m so sorry, Liebling.”

  “I’m okay, Nico. I’ll be all right.”

  “Here, miss.” Thompson handed her a bottle of water.

  I snatched it from him. “She doesn’t need water, she needs stitches.” Still, I unscrewed the lid and held it to her lips. She drank a few sips.

  “A doctor is en route to the plane now, sir.”

  I ignored him, glaring out the window. To my surprise, we had a police escort now. Thompson was big on reacting to an emergency but needed to fucking learn how to prevent one.

  Cara’s blue eyes were on mine, but she looked exhausted. Her injured arm was cradled against her chest, and her other hand held onto my sleeve. I tilted her more so that she could lean against me and save her energy.

  I wished she’d go to sleep. It was the only way to mute the experience, to get a little distance. Hopefully, when she woke up, this memory would fade like a nightmare.

  God, why the hell had I put her in this position? Never, ever again would I let anything like this happen. I’d already lost everything once. I couldn’t risk that again.

  I knew what I had to do.

  33

  Cara

  The doctor that cleaned and stitched my arm gave me some pain medicine that made me sleepy. The private jet had a sofa along one wall, and flight attendants had converted it into a bed by the time the doctor left. Nico held me until after takeoff, and then he made them turn off the interior lights and close the window shades. He tucked me into bed and I drifted off to sleep.

  I slept fitfully, only partially waking when I heard his voice, all raw, anxious, and angry. I wanted to talk to him, to hold his hand, to assure him I was okay, but he was too far away and my eyelids drooped.

  The hard bump of landing jarred me, and this time, Nico was there, sitting next to me, stroking my hair. “Go back to sleep, Cara. It’s okay… just sleep.”

  I did.

  I was vaguely aware of movement. Of being carried through the darkness. Of the engine of a car.

  When I next woke, the
lights were dim, and I was in a bed that wasn’t moving—thank god.

  “Are we in Falkenberg?”

  “No,” A voice came from the darkness. It was Nico, but he wasn’t next to me. He was sitting in a chair in front of the faint outline of a window. “We’re at an airport 150 kilometers away. We’ll drive there in the morning.”

  Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten there wasn’t an airport in his country. I sat up, trying to assess how I felt. The pain was muted in my injured arm, probably because of the medicine the doctor had left. Everywhere else just felt a bit stiff and achy. That would likely go away in a day or two. The memories? Those would last longer. I’d never felt that scared in my entire life.

  Nico came over and stood in front of me. He looked horrible. He still had on the same clothes as earlier, his shirt half tucked in. He hadn’t shaved and his eyes looked bloodshot. Worst of all was how he was just standing there, not sitting down. Not holding me.

  “Can I get you something?”

  “Just water.” My throat was dry.

  He returned with it and held out two pills for me to take. “Food? More blankets?”

  “I’m fine.” Except I still didn’t know why he was hovering over me instead of sitting next to me.

  “Do you feel up for talking?”

  Yes—god, I wanted to talk to him so badly. About what happened—about how he’d reacted—about the pain I’d heard in his voice when he shouted for me. But when I nodded yes, he handed me a phone. “Your sister’s worried about you.”

  I took the phone and murmured my thanks, biting back the questions I wanted to ask him.

  Autumn answered right away though I didn’t know what time it was here, let alone in California. There were tears in her voice as she asked me repeatedly how I was feeling. She’d been so strong all my life—it was strange to hear her sound so shaky.

  I thought of something. “How’d you know? Did Nico call you?”

  “It’s everywhere,” she said, and my stomach dropped at the thought. “The footage is really shaky, but it looked very frightening. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I am, I promise. Or at least I will be—I’m pretty tired right now.”

  “Do you want me to come out there?”

  “No,” I said, trying to sound as alert as possible. “Thank you, but you’ve got to get ready for my niece or nephew. I’ll be okay.”

  “How bad was it?” Autumn asked, her voice solemn.

  I lowered my voice so Nico wouldn’t hear. “Terrifying.”

  “God… I wish I were there to hug you.”

  “Me too. Hey, wait, why did you text me right before?”

  “Ford saw something online. They mentioned Nico and a blonde girl with an engagement ring.”

  “That was fake—part of the disguises Frankie made for us.”

  “Oh,” Autumn said. “I figured it must’ve been something like that.”

  I tried not to think of it—too many hopes, dreams, and fears swirled around in my head when the words Nico and ring were used in the same conversation.

  “You sound tired. You should get some rest. But Cara, call me tomorrow, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Love you,” she said, her voice breaking again.

  “Love you, too.” I hung up the phone—I’d had all the strong emotions I could handle for one evening.

  I put the phone on the nightstand and slowly made my way to the bathroom. I felt a little better when my face and teeth were clean, but still so tired. Those pills the doctor left must’ve made me extra sleepy.

  Nico was at my side when I emerged. “Can you sleep more?”

  “I think so.” Actually, I knew so—my eyelids were already drooping.

  Nico helped me over to the bed and then pulled back the covers. I sat down on the edge, and he scooped up my feet and tucked them under the blankets as if I were a child. “Get some sleep.”

  I nodded, my eyes already closing. I wanted to stay awake until I felt him climb into bed next to me, but my thoughts were already drifting and sleep was closing in. I only woke a few times during the night, and each time I only stayed alert long enough to realize that I was alone in the bed.

  34

  Cara

  “And Wilhelm says it’s really important that Apollo becomes used to people. Will you come down to the mews today, dad?” The eagerness in Derrick’s voice melted my heart, but I feared it wasn’t enough to reach Nico in his current state.

  “Maybe this afternoon.” It was the same thing he’d said yesterday… and the day before. We were eating breakfast together, and the twins were their usual, cheerful selves. Nico was anything but.

  He’d been distracted ever since we got back from London. I knew he was upset about the paparazzi ambushing us—I was too. But it had been such an amazing weekend prior to that. I’d felt closer to him in London than I ever had before. It was like our relationship had crossed a threshold. We’d become a real couple.

  But now he was distant.

  “But dad, you said we’d go practice archery this afternoon.”

  “Cara can take you,” Nico told his daughter absently.

  “She’s a lousy shot.” Elyse gave me an impish smile—it was clear she’d just said that to get a reaction from Nico. It didn’t work.

  A server approached him. “More coffee, Your Majesty?”

  “No, thank you.” The server retreated and Nico pushed his chair back. “I have some work to attend to. Have a good day, everyone.”

  His gaze fell on the twins and even—briefly—on me. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d been pulling away from me ever since London.

  After the twins finished eating and left to join their tutor, I walked slowly back to my room. I didn’t know what to do about Nico pulling away. Sure, he’d asked about my arm which was healing well. And he’d made small talk with the children. But his hazel eyes were no longer filled with light or life—and I didn’t know how to change that.

  I’d gone to his office after dinner last night and the night before, but he hadn’t been there. I’d asked him yesterday if we could talk. He’d given me the same kind of answer he gave the children—empty words he that didn’t mean much.

  Once in my room, I thought about calling Autumn. After that awful incident with the press in London, she was worried. I texted her updates about my arm and told her other details of my life. It was a defensive strategy. If I kept sending messages and calling occasionally, it might keep her from requesting a Skype meeting. Autumn already suspected something was wrong by the tone of my voice—if she saw my face, she’d know for sure.

  I went to my desk and opened my laptop, trying to talk myself out of what I was about to do. Ever since learning that my new employer was the prince of Falkenberg, I’d avoided looking up anything about the death of his wife. Reading about it would’ve felt voyeuristic. It was the greatest tragedy of his life, not a human-interest piece. It was a gross invasion of his privacy and a line I hadn’t wanted to cross.

  But now I needed to know. Something had changed between Nico and me—twice. In London, we’d grown closer together. But then after the paparazzi attack, we’d lost ground. Now I didn’t know where we stood, but my heart feared the worst. It had all changed after I’d been injured by the paparazzi, which didn’t make sense. I’d only needed eight stitches—it wasn’t that big of a deal for him to pull away like that.

  I suspected the answers I needed might be contained in the accounts of that awful night over two years ago. With a sigh, I pulled up some results on my laptop and began to read.

  As I’d known, Nico had been quite the party animal when he was in college. Even if there weren’t ample evidence online, Blake’s stories had confirmed it. After Nico met Lady Lisette, it seemed that his image cleaned up a little. There were still plenty of tales about his antics and his fun-loving ways, but fewer and fewer as he dated and eventually married her.

  The marriage renewed interest from the press. A genuine prince and
his bride living in the US were bound to attract attention. Though he frequently traveled back to Falkenberg, his home during that time period was California. The children were born there.

  Every few months, another major paper or magazine would do an in-depth report on the fairy-tale family living in the US. Then the tabloids would gleefully document it every time Nico, his wife, or both went to a restaurant, party, or club. That kind of coverage continued up until that night at Lake Tahoe.

  Nico had always loved boating and had purchased a boat when he was done with college. He and his buddies, Blake included, had spent many nights partying out on the water.

  There were pictures online of the twins when they were toddlers, wearing little life preservers. There were pictures of Lady Lisette in a bikini, sunbathing on the deck.

  The afternoon of the accident, the children weren’t with them. They’d just started kindergarten, and Nico and Lisette had arranged to spend the day out on the water before storing the boat until spring.

  To my surprise, I read that there had been a few photographers on board with them. That seemed strange given how much Nico hated them. Perhaps he’d thought that appeasing a small number of them would keep the others off his back?

  If that had been his plan, it hadn’t worked. Another group of paparazzi rented a small speed boat and dropped anchor nearby, taking pictures with long-range lenses. The papers said they were drinking and occasionally shouting things to Nico and his wife, trying to provoke a reaction. They stayed there long after the sun went down, as did Nico.

  The accounts got a bit cryptic at that point, but apparently there’d been drinking on both boats. Nico had been tested later and was not intoxicated. The driver of the other boat had been.

  Details were scarcer now, but at some point there had been an argument. Nico had gotten angry at the paparazzi in the other boat and had turned his boat toward shore. The other boat followed.

  I could see it in my head—both boats glided quickly through the water in a dark, starless night.