Prince Charming

by K. Webster

  “Hmm,” Perry says, an evil smirk on his face that reminds me a lot of his wicked older brother.

  “You know, when Win does that, he’s up to no good.”

  “I’m a Constantine, Ash. We’re never up to any good.”

  After helping Perry for a few hours until five, I leave his office to seek out Winston. His office door is still closed. I’m dying to know what his mother said. I walk over to his office and knock.

  Deborah ends a call and clears her throat. “Mr. Constantine has left for the day, miss.”

  Miss.

  As though I’m some random visitor.

  Deborah knows I’m way more than just a visitor for Winston, and yet she seems to get a thrill by treating me as though I’m nothing to him.

  “He went to dinner with his mother,” she reveals, forcing a fake smile. “Could I leave him a message?”

  I grit my teeth and shake my head. “Nah, I’ll see him at his place later.”

  It’s a lie, but I enjoy seeing her bristle. Truth is, I don’t know if Winston plans on seeing me later. He’s never cut off contact from me like this or not given me some sort of itinerary. I feel sort of abandoned, but I certainly don’t let her see that.

  He gave you an apartment.

  My blood boils at that thought, but it’s another sick dose of reality. Am I reading into what we have more than I should?

  No.

  He’s just being a stubborn idiot.

  “Of course,” she clips out. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  I gather up my things and am heading out when my phone buzzes with a text from Winston.

  Win: Wait for me at my place tonight.

  Me: I might be busy.

  Win: Don’t fish for attention. I promise to shower you with attention and come later.

  He can be so gross, and yet I still smile like a lovestruck idiot.

  Me: On a scale of one to ten, how much does your mother hate me?

  Win: It doesn’t matter how she feels, Ash.

  His words are serious and kind of sweet. Because we need levity, I send him a bunch of heart eye emojis that earn me several middle fingers.

  We’re okay.

  Whatever she said to him or says to him will glance off him, not affecting things—us. I’m relieved because though this is a big game with a lot of money involved between the two of us, it’s a game I’m not done playing. A game I’ve become incredibly invested in. A game where I want us both to win.

  “When’s Daddy coming home?” I ask Shrimp, running my finger along the top of his pink head. “We’re bored, huh?”

  Shrimp sings and flutters his wings. Cutest little bird ever. I sigh, glancing at the time on my phone. I’ve been waiting at Winston’s place for a couple of hours, and he’s still not here.

  Someone knocks on the door, startling Shrimp. He flies up to the artsy light fixture in the living room, chirping at me as though I scared him on purpose. I laugh as I stand and make my way over to the door. Just as I peek through the hole, I see Nate on the other side pulling out his keys to unlock it. I pull it open and give him a bitchy smile.

  “He’s not here. Sorry.”

  He rolls his eyes, walking into the condo anyway. “I can wait.”

  Sighing heavily, not even bothering to be polite, I shut the door and follow him. Just like last time, he makes himself at home, pouring himself a drink. But rather than letting him be, I walk over to him, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

  “If you’re trying to intimidate me, it won’t work,” I spit out.

  Shrimp flaps his wings but otherwise remains quiet. He doesn’t like when I get upset.

  “I’m not trying to do anything,” Nate grumbles and then drains his liquor in one gulp. “I’m waiting for Winston to discuss some business with him.”

  “Then you’ll have to deal with me for a while. I’m not sure when he’s returning.”

  He meets my stare with narrowed eyes before setting down the empty glass on a small table. “I’ll deal with you then.” His nostrils flare and then he gestures upstairs with a lift of his chin. “Need to take a piss. Maybe you should pour us both a drink.”

  Ignoring him, I suck in a calming breath as soon as he’s disappeared up the stairs. Shrimp chirps at me but won’t come back down. “I know, I know. He’s an asshole,” I tell my bird who’s a great judge of character. “But he’s Winston’s best friend.”

  A short while later, he returns and helps himself to another drink. I scroll through my phone, pretending as though I have a life and am sucked into social media. In reality, I watch Nate from the corner of my eye as he watches me.

  “When are you going to realize you’re just a toy for Winston?” he asks, sipping his liquor. “All rich boys grow tired of their toys eventually. Hell, based on the fact he’s elsewhere and you’re here, entertaining me, I’d say maybe it’s already happened, but you’re just too naïve to see it.”

  I flip him off, not rewarding him with an answer. He chuckles and then calls to my bird—here, birdie birdie—like he’s a puppy. Shrimp flaps his wings hard, the equivalent of a birdie fuck you. I bite back a smirk. Nate looks at his watch and then downs the rest of his drink.

  “As much as I’d love to spend all night waiting on Winston, I have a date to get to.” He sets his glass down and walks past me. “I’d say see you soon, but I’m not sure that’ll be the case. Hell, I may never see you again. I’m sure you were fun while it lasted.” He pauses to shoot me a triumphant grin. “Perhaps you should ask him how lunch went with Layla yesterday. I heard Caroline was hoping he’d ask her out. You know, since she’s not a poor, money-hungry maid and comes with her own fortune.”

  Layla?

  Lunch?

  I keep my features cool, but hurt slashes at my heart, quick and gutting. Winston never mentioned lunch with anyone.

  Why would he?

  He’s not your boyfriend. He’s only been trying to tell you this since day one, idiot.

  Oh. My. God.

  I’m seriously deluding myself, aren’t I?

  Satisfied with my silence, Nate leaves without another word, the door closing with a loud bang after him. Shrimp starts chirping at me as though to bitch me out for even having a conversation with Nate. To take my mind of his words and to wait for Winston, I take a long bath. Nate’s words continue to dig under my skin, though, and get inside my bones.

  Maybe this lunch thing was just that. Lunch. But what if it wasn’t? What if he’s getting bored with me?

  Or worse yet, when his mother and his best friend finally convince him I’m just a plaything and he lets me go to set off for a more appropriate match like this Layla woman?

  We started this out as a negotiation—me indulging his insane kinks for cold, hard cash—but it evolved into something deeper for me. Sure, we joke a lot about him being my boyfriend, but a giant part of me wishes he was. Aside from his freak nature, Winston is a catch. He’s successful and confident and gorgeous and protective. I like him. Really, really like him. Somehow, I think he really likes me too. So why does it all feel so brittle and fleeting?

  Because it is.

  The apartment was the first attempt to keep you at arm’s length. Who knows what his dinner with his mother will bring?

  At the sound of the front door opening, I dry off and throw on a robe. I’m just rounding the corner to see Winston walking in. Shrimp sings a happy song to him before divebombing him and landing on his shoulder. I expect him to swat the bird away. Instead, he strokes him gently with his thumb and speaks lowly to him. My heart does a twist inside my chest, making me realize Winston Constantine is capable of breaking me if he wants to. Being so vulnerable to such a powerful man is unnerving.

  “How was dinner with your mother?” I clip out in greeting, my tone laced with hurt and accusation. I immediately hate myself for being so transparent.

  Winston turns to regard me, his features impassive and cool. The only tell of his interest in me is the slight f
laring of his nostrils and heated flicker in his blue eyes as he skims his gaze over my bare legs. Something catches his eye, and his brows furrow.

  “Who was here?” he asks, gesturing to the empty glass on the table.

  Shrimp flies over to his cage and noisily starts pecking at his food.

  “Your bestie,” I state a little testily. His brow arches and I clarify, “Nate.”

  For a beat, all Winston does is stare at me. It reminds me of the cold, unfeeling way his mother looked at me. I suppress a shiver and instead lift my chin. Whatever transpired between him and his mother has been brought home with him. He’s clearly irritated and frustrated, hardening those emotions with his indifference he wears like metal armor.

  “And what did my bestie want?”

  I huff and shrug. “To use your prissy warm towels.” And to make me feel like shit.

  His eyes narrow as he studies me. All that can be heard is Shrimp’s pecking. My heart thunders in my chest as I wonder if this’ll be the moment he tells me to leave. That he let his mother whisper in his ear and tell him I’m not good enough for her eldest Constantine son. That maybe Nate was right and he wants to see this other woman. The silence drags out between us, neither of us budging or speaking.

  It’ll be fine.

  Whatever happens will be okay.

  I earned that first year of tuition fair and square in his office earlier today. And if there’s something I know about Winston, it’s that he always follows through on a deal. At the very least, I had some fun and have school taken care of for a bit.

  So why does my chest ache?

  Because you don’t want this to be over. Because it’s not just about money for you.

  “Cinderelliott?” He tugs at the knot of his tie. “How would you like to earn some money?”

  The familiarity of our game has relief flooding through me like a rushing river.

  This isn’t over.

  We’re both in too deep to walk away now.

  I just need to convince him if you take all of the money and tuition and gifts away, we’re still worth something.

  I have to. I will.

  17

  Winston

  The air is charged with something. A mixture of my anger and Ash’s defiance. I’d walked into my condo, ready to send her home—for good—but as soon as I saw her, everything changed.

  Again.

  Seems she has a way of doing that to me.

  My thoughts drift back to dinner with Mother, hardening my heart to the woman before me.

  “Do you even really know her?” Mother asks, her voice slightly condescending as though she’s chiding a child for his innocent take on the world.

  “I know enough.”

  “Enough.” Mother sips her wine, taking her time before speaking again. “That’s vague and leads me to believe you know nothing at all.”

  Irritation burns in my gut. “She’s my maid and assistant.”

  “Who lives with you.” Her blue eyes narrow, pinning me in place. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “She doesn’t live with me,” I grind out, anger surging through me. “She has her own apartment.”

  “Not what Nate says.”

  Silence fills the air as I study my mother. Beautiful enough to grace magazine covers or be shown on the big screen, but evil enough to destroy empires with her icy glare alone.

  “I wasn’t aware you and Nate have conversations about me behind my back.”

  “There’s a lot you’re not aware of, Son. Is it because you’re letting a little girl distract you from your place in this family?”

  I pick up my glass and drain my wine before setting it down with a hard clink. “Enough of the games. What do you want?”

  “Games? Your future is anything but a game.”

  I scrub my palm over my face and let out a sigh. “I had lunch with Layla Reynard.”

  “I heard.”

  “I figured you’d be thrilled.” I cock my head to the side. “That is, unless you’ve got plans for me and Meredith.”

  She smirks. “Oh, Son, indeed I do have plans for Meredith.”

  I wait for her to elaborate but, naturally, she leaves me hanging. I’m tired of her meddling so I wait her out, eating my filet without speaking a word. When I’m finished, she finally says something.

  “Have you ever asked the Elliot girl how her mother died?”

  “No, because she’s not what you think she is to me.”

  Keep lying to yourself and everyone else, Winston.

  “Hmm.” The waiter refills our wine, and the silence is broken again by Mother. “I would hope that you, of all people, would see that when you consort with people beneath you, they will drag you down on their way up.”

  Ash isn’t like that, but I’m not about to argue the point with her.

  “It’s times like these, I see that eighteen-year-old young man. So naïve to the world we live in.” She pauses letting her insult sink in. “She’ll use you. Just like Meredith tried to.” Another beat of silence. “She’s just a plaything, Son, and you’re too old to be playing with toys.”

  Her words hit me right in the chest. I know what she says makes sense, but hearing it outside of my head and from another Constantine—not just Nate—has it sticking in my brain. Ash needs money. I have it. We trade sex and games for it. The end. It’s nothing more than that; and can never be more than that. Because if I somehow let myself think otherwise, the matriarch of the Constantine family would swoop in, talons bared, and shred Ash to bits.

  It’s better this way.

  All of Mother’s lecturing, while it had gotten to me at dinner and had me seeing reason where Ash was concerned, was forgotten in the blink of an eye. The second I saw Ash looking young and beautiful and sassy in nothing but a robe, I forgot everything. All I wanted to do was rip off the offending clothes and push her to her knees.

  As much as I want to fuck her one last time, because soon it’ll have to be the last time, there are more pressing things to discover. Like why Nate was hanging out with Ash while I wasn’t here. And how she’s unperturbed as though it’s a normal thing for them or that it wouldn’t bother me.

  She’ll use you. Just like Meredith tried to.

  Mother’s words echo inside my head over and over again.

  “Name your terms,” Ash says, approaching me slowly as though I’m a wounded animal that might bite.

  I’ll bite all right.

  But I’m not wounded.

  I’m the wounder.

  I run my tongue along my bottom lip, my mouth watering to taste her. She’s every bit as addictive as those goddamn red gummy bears. I want to devour her. Over and over again. She’s hooked me just as she did with the ridiculous candy made of god only knows what. If I keep her, she’ll do harm in the long run. Just like the damn sugary bears. A fucking cavity. That’s all she is to me. A fleck of dirt in my otherwise pristine world, burrowing deeper and deeper with every passing moment. If I don’t do something about it soon, she’ll hit a nerve.

  She smirks.

  Fuck, she’s already hit a nerve.

  The kind that I keep hidden and well preserved.

  A rush of pleasure, not unlike how the sweet treats affect me when I eat one, slides through my veins, heading south. My cock stiffens in my slacks, eager to play with my dirty maid.

  She’s just a plaything, Son, and you’re too old to be playing with toys.

  Again, Mother’s words mock me.

  It’s a good reminder, though. If my mother believes her eldest son is in danger—again—from a female dead set on ruining him, she’ll do what every mama bear will do: claw poor little Ash out of my life until she’s nothing but shreds. Unlike Meredith who had protection of family and her family’s old money, Ash has nothing. Caroline Constantine will feast on the bones of her life and when she finishes, there’ll be nothing left. Ash wouldn’t emotionally or financially recover from a Constantine war.

  Which is another reason why I need
to end things.

  Soon.

  The longer I hold onto this decadent current that flows between Ash and me, the more at risk the both of us are. I’m at risk of forgetting I have a brain and accidentally using my heart which has proven unreliable in the past. Ash is at risk of drowning in everything wicked and awful that is me.

  She has her education fund set up, something I got Harold started on right after Mother came to visit the office this afternoon. Ash can go to school in the fall, and no one can stop her. Not her stepbrothers or stepmother. Not her father. Not the Constantines.

  Tonight, this all ends.

  It has to.

  She may not want the “whore apartment” as she calls it, but it’s beyond necessary. It’ll keep her safe from those fuckwits and me safe from making a terrible decision . . . like keeping her.

  “Win,” she murmurs, her brows crashing together. “You’re trembling.”

  I steady the slight shake of my hands by curling them into fists. Breathing in her sweet cherry scent has my mind racing at all the things I still want to do to her—all the things I won’t be able to after tonight.

  “Five grand,” I clip out, my voice even and icy. “For every cruel insult you can take.”

  If I’m going to toss her back into the world, at least she won’t have to rely on anyone but herself. I’ll send her out into it with a padded bank account.

  She scoffs. “It’s like I’ve won the lottery. We both know I can handle your cruelty.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that after we fuck, she can pack up her shit, including her noisy-ass bird, and leave. But then she’s crowding me, her small hands roaming up my chest.

  “I’ll up the ante.” The soft purr of her voice is like the vibration of music in a dance club. It infects my every molecule with the music. Pulses through me. Finds a way inside my mind and my soul. “It’ll cost ten grand for each insult.”

  “If?” I raise a brow at her.