Almost My Prince

by Miranda King

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Tessa barked. But he seemed harmless enough. A distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair. Eyes like coffee with a touch of cream. No mask. The only one aboard without one, it seemed. I asked him why.

  “Why do I need to hide?” He stretched his arms out wide like he owned the place. “I’m the most powerful man here.”

  “King Rex?” I almost dipped into a curtsy.

  “No,” he smirked. “Even more powerful.”

  Okay, this man was a little arrogant.

  A woman, whose pursed lips I’d recognize anywhere, turned around and hooked her arm around his. When she saw me, she puckered even more. “Daddy, this is that teacher I was telling you about.”

  Yep, and that was Brunette Barbie, aka Barbara Krusher. So this must be her illustrious father, Kurt Krusher.

  “Honey, why don’t you run along for now,” he told her.

  “Yes, Daddy.” She might’ve stuck her tongue out at me, but I couldn’t be sure.

  I was too busy assessing the rapid transformation of his eyes from warm and liquid to hard and sharp. Although too old to be a football player, he had the build of one, and he stepped closer into my personal space. Tessa barked again.

  “I hear you’ve become a distraction for Christian.” His voice twisted into steel. “Stay away. I have plans for him that don’t involve you.” He took another step forward, and I almost backed up. “My little girl gets everything she wants, and no one will stand in the way of her getting Christian. No one. So fair warning, back off.”

  If his words were a knife, I’d be sliced up by now.

  “Let me give you a fair warning, no one tells me what to do.” I fought back, for myself, yes—but also for Christian. No matter if Christian was interested in me or not, he deserved someone sticking up for him, especially with all he’d been through with his first marriage. “And about your daughter, it’s Christian choice. Not yours. You can’t control that.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “No.”

  He lunged his barrel chest forward. “Watch me.”

  Tessa growled, and I stood my ground.

  “Walk away now. That’s your last warning.” And then he thundered away.

  Maybe he fit into the All Talk, No Action category? But his words still rung in my ears as an ominous warning.

  Jagged pain shot down my head like a lightning strike.

  Hells bells, another migraine was starting.

  I tucked Tessa close to me and stumbled to find my purse and room key that I’d left with Divina in the other ballroom. The music there beat against my head and my eyes blurred. My head spun like those twirling lights on the ceiling.

  Was that Divina—and Nathan? He had Divina backed against the wall in a corner. He pinned one of his hands above her, and the other hand caressed her bare shoulder.

  I walked towards them, but there were too many steps between us.

  I searched for anyone I knew. No one.

  Where was Bella? Was that Granny in her white suit on the other side of the room? I couldn’t be sure, and it was too many steps… too many steps…

  One of the Naughty Nooks opened up. I stumbled towards it. The couple didn’t bother to pull back the curtains.

  I slipped in. The bed was so inviting. I crawled onto it and set Tessa beside me. I laid my head on a poofy pillow and closed my eyes while the spasms of pain took over my body.

  I left my mask on. The light pressure helped for some reason. I rubbed my temples, my forehead, but the pain didn’t stop. I heard Tessa bark. She sounded so faint—miles away.

  She quieted for a long while. Then her barking erupted again. Loud. Louder.

  I opened my eyes halfway. She was okay. She dropped a shiny object by my elbow. It looked like my True Royalty Vanessa ship hairclip. How did she get that out of my pocket? Then she licked me. I tried to pet her, but it took too much effort.

  I closed my eyes again. Tessa continued to lick. Then she barked again. I could hear her running back and forth across the room. She was making too much noise… too much noise.

  “Tessa, I’ve got a bad migraine right now. Just lie down beside me.”

  Another spasm erupted. I clutched a pillow.

  I moaned. I heard someone settle onto the bed.

  Then strong fingers combed through my hair, massaging my scalp, rotating between there and my temples. Around and around and around.

  “Granny?” I managed to say. “You’re here…”

  My head still pounded, yet each of those caresses absorbed some brunt of the pain.

  Over and over and over. Whenever pain’s wrath threatened to surge, those strong strokes fought with it, shepherding its sharp clutch to the fringes of my mind.

  I was lulled into a state in between sleep and consciousness, a place distant from pain.

  I curled onto my side. If I could just fall asleep—I’d wake up better after a twenty-minute nap.

  But too many thoughts whirled around in my head—Christian, Michael, Bella, Divina, Nathan, Bo, Fallon, Abigail, the Krushers, and then to Granny…

  “How’d you find me in here?” I asked her. The pain was receding. I was suspended in dreamland.

  “The dog was eating table scraps and picked up your trinket. I followed it.”

  “I didn’t see you for so long. Where were you?”

  “Talking to Divina.” Granny sounded so much like Christian—even his voice could invade my brain during a migraine. “She explained everything to me, sweetheart. There’s nothing to worry about now.”

  “Dear Lord, there is. You didn’t see my booty-butt dance. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “You’ll have to do that again, but only for me this time.”

  “Oh no, Granny,” I groaned. “I don’t care to look like a Margarita Girl again.” I nestled closer against her warm leg. Sleep was moving over my body like a thick blanket. “Granny, I’m so sad about Christian.”

  “Why, sweetheart?”

  I wanted to tell her what Abigail had shared about Christian, but it’d take too many words… too many words. So I simply said, “I’m not a Margarita Girl.”

  “But you don’t want to be one of those.”

  “Yes, I do, but just for him.” Sleep was falling fast over me. It was getting tough to explain. “I want to be Christian’s Margarita Girl.”

  “You are… you’re so much more than that.” And then I heard, “Sass, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Granny.”

  I heard a chuckle… in my mind, it was deep like Christian’s. “You rest, my SLT.”

  And in my dreams, Christian curled behind me and tucked me close to him.

  I didn’t want this dream to end—it felt so real, until I opened my eyes.

  “Bo Hunter Hooks Up with Hot Margarita Girl at Masquerade”

  -Gossip Weekly

  “Sass Wears Modern Comeback Again, Caught Kissing Prince on Balcony”

  -Royal Rumor Report

  I awoke with only the True Royalty Vanessa ship trinket beside me.

  No Tessa.

  No Granny.

  No Christian.

  I was in a Naughty Nook… alone.

  I shivered. I missed my dream with Christian holding me.

  I sighed and stirred to sit up, steadying my feet on the floor. I could hear the music still beating out on the dance floor and activity from the party. It couldn’t be that late.

  The curtain cracked open enough for a man to enter carrying two glasses of something.

  I focused my eyes.

  Christian.

  “Waking up, my little Margarita Girl?” He set down the glasses on a small table. “Water?”

  “Yes, please.” If my voice croaked a little, I wouldn’t admit to it.

  He handed it off to me and went back to grab a handful of silver-wrapped candy I saw in a dish there. He unwrapped a chocolate and devoured it—the same way he did at school.

  Dear Lord, his mouth was beautiful to watch...
and when he noticed my attention on his lips, he gave me this heart-stopping, mischievous smile.

  “You’re the August Margarita Girl, aren’t you? That’s when I first saw you. You were wearing red.”

  I was confused… or he was confused… or…

  “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

  My heart twisted like the silver wrapper he tossed in a nearby trash bin. He didn’t recognize me after all.

  That happened tonight with the masks. Unless you really knew someone, you couldn’t be sure who they were. I hadn’t immediately recognized Abigail.

  I set down my water and started to take off my mask.

  “No, don’t. Please,” he said in a way that gripped my heart. “You remind me of someone that I’d very much like to be with tonight. Will that bother you?” He ran the backs of his fingers down the length of the sleek, sheer fabric of my shirt. “I’ll make it worth your pleasure, my little Margarita Girl.”

  He slid his fingers back up my arm, and I trembled under his touch. But what was going on here? If he really thought I was someone else, then who did he want to be with?

  “Depends,” I said. “Who’s the other woman?”

  “Jealous?”

  “Curious.”

  He slid his fingers back down my arm, and I hated the barrier of my blouse at that moment. I wanted his bare skin across my mine.

  “I keep my secrets. You keep yours.” He skimmed his fingers across the side of my cheek. Up and down several times. “Be mine tonight.”

  I closed my eyes against the feel of him. He lifted my chin so that my eyes opened directly to his heated gaze.

  “Say yes, my little Margarita Girl.”

  I vaguely remembered admitting to Granny: I want to be Christian’s Margarita Girl.

  And it didn’t take a Harvard degree to recognize that he wanted me, and I wanted him, with or without the masks.

  Maybe Divina was right—there was a certain freedom in the illusion the masks provided. Instead of unmasking complicated love triangles and ex-wives and my temporary stay here until Stanvard, I could be simply his Margarita Girl… for tonight only.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my little Margarita Girl,” he murmured into my ear. He inhaled. “Mmm, you smell of strawberries.” He pulled out a chocolate candy and unwrapped the silver foil. “I love strawberries and chocolate.”

  He traced the smooth chocolate over my lips. He outlined my bottom lip from corner to corner and then advanced to the curves of my upper lip. Over and over and over.

  Then he teased me by swirling the chocolate on the tip of my tongue. Around and around and around. Finally he slipped the chocolate in my mouth, and it melted on my tongue… and my heart melted along with it into a gooey mess.

  He dallied his finger on my bottom lip, swayed the tip across, this way and that, and sent waves of tingles all the way down to my toes.

  He leaned in closer. The heat of him bathed my body.

  Closer. His breath mingled with mine.

  With every pulse beat, I shifted infinitesimally to meet his lips. He closed his eyes. I closed mine. I heard only the sounds of my uneven breaths matching his own.

  And then… Heaven.

  His lips on mine. Rough. Gentle. Any remaining rational thoughts scattered on contact. A peacefulness reigned over me as I explored this newfound paradise.

  He parted my lips with his tongue and beckoned me like the Promised Land. On a whispered prayer, I allowed him to enter me.

  This was “hot tongue action.”

  A bolt of lightning surged between us. He devoured me, his tongue taking full possession of my mouth. His moans urged me to give him more, and my soul burned to give it to him.

  Swish-swish.

  The curtain drew back.

  I opened my eyes. The electricity between us still hummed through my blood, and I tried to focus on the two people in front of us.

  I rubbed my eyes. Did I see them correctly?

  Mr. Krusher, the man who’d warned me to stay away from Christian, and…

  “Granny?!”

  This Big Bad Wolf was trying to take my Granny into a Naughty Nook?!

  I jumped up so fast that I might’ve given Christian whiplash. That Big Bad Wolf clutched Granny’s hand, and I jerked her away from him. I led her to the other end of the ballroom so that we could talk, leaving Christian to fend for himself.

  I didn’t worry about Christian—a wolf wouldn’t intimate him. But Granny—she needed protection. Although she didn’t see it that way.

  “Sass, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “You can’t go into a Naughty Nook with that man… he’s—he’s mean.”

  Granny laughed. “For the love of dolls, not Kurt,” she said about Mr. Krusher. “I’ve been talking to him on and off all night, and he’s”—Granny cast a dreamy look towards the spinning lights on the ceiling—“wonderful.”

  “Not that wonderful because he threatened me about Christian.”

  “Oh, that.” Granny focused back on me. “He told me that he saw you and got a little carried away for his daughter’s sake.”

  “A little carried away. That’s not how I remember it.”

  Granny shook her head, and she had a sad look to her. “I think what’s going on,” she said, “is that it’s hard for you to see me with someone other than your grandpa. It is for me, too.” She let out a long breath. “But Kurt is a good man at heart. I see it. And in time, you also will.”

  “In time, Granny? Why are you talking like you’re going to be seeing this man past tonight?”

  “He’s asked me to dinner and—and… we’re planning a trip to romantic Paris.” Her eyes lit up as bright as the Eiffel Tower at night.

  That man, the one who’d given Granny that doe-eyed look, stepped up to us. “Everything okay here?” Kurt slipped his arm behind Granny’s back—and she let him!

  “No.” I was about to say more, but Granny had a smile that I hadn’t seen on her face since Grandpa. “I-I just needed to thank Granny for helping me when I was feeling unwell and for taking Tessa back to Bella.” And I did need to, but that wasn’t the real reason why I’d dragged Granny across the ballroom.

  Granny shot me a puzzled look, but then turned her attention to Kurt. “I also was telling her how sorry you were about getting a little carried away when you two talked earlier.” Granny patted Kurt’s shoulder.

  He nodded. “Little lady, I greatly apologize for how I may have come off to you earlier.” His words were friendly, but his eyes had a metallic edge. He extended his hand. “Accept my apology?”

  Granny pleaded me with her eyes. I held out my hand, and he clawed it tight.

  “For your granny’s sake,” he said in a benign voice, but his eyes were like two towers of steel. “I hope you’ll walk away understanding me.”

  He then excused himself by saying that he needed to talk business with someone, and he’d meet Granny back over by the Naughty Nooks.

  Granny said, “I’m glad that’s all worked out now.”

  Hardly. Was that another warning he’d just given me? I couldn’t tell if that man was good or bad, a saint or a sinner, or the Big Bad Wolf claiming my Granny.

  Granny brushed back my hair. “Don’t worry. He’s a good man, Sass,” she said. “Now go back to your Christian.”

  I shook my head. “We don’t know this Kurt very well. You might need me.”

  “For the love of dolls, go!” Granny said. “I don’t need you.”

  “But—”

  “Go, I don’t need you,” she said in a simple statement. But I couldn’t swear it was fact.

  When I returned back to the Naughty Nook, I wrapped my arms around my stomach and stared, for more heartbeats than I cared to count, at the empty room.

  My head pounded over my heart:

  See, he walked away.

  My heart beat over my head:

  Perhaps he is just like my father.

  My nerves gripped both my head
and heart:

  He merely wasn’t that interested to begin with… I’m not a tall brunette.

  He was gone. That was statement of fact, but I swear I wished it wasn’t.

  Swish-swish. The curtains spread open for a second.

  Christian.

  He had a grim set to his lips.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Business talk.” He shook his head like he was shaking something off his mind, and he sauntered over to me. “Now where were we, my little Margarita Girl?”

  Right before he reached me, I pressed my hands against his chest. “Next time, leave a note or something,” I said. “I thought you’d left me, and a girl like me has other things to do than wait around on you.” If I sounded pouty, I would not own up to it.

  “Good to know.” He drew me into his warmth. “But I’d never purposely walk away from you.” He tucked me within his strong arms. “You’ll figure that out.”

  He burrowed his face in my hair and held me tighter. He exhaled and inhaled, stroking his fingers through my hair. I mimicked his breathing pattern, completely under his spell.

  He slipped something out of his pocket and moved to hold it between us.

  A black, plastic room key card.

  The implication of what this card might mean whirled in my head.

  “My little Margarita Girl, let me show you the pleasures of my bed.” He had a wicked gleam in his eye.

  I trembled.

  “Yes.” I tilted my head up to look at him.

  He groaned. He hooded his eyes and leaned into nuzzle my exposed neck with his lips.

  Next to my ear, he whispered, “Will you keep this in a safe place for me, my little Margarita Girl?” He swirled the black card up the smooth material along my arm, and his lips trailed those butterfly kisses along my neck.

  I nodded against his impassioned lips. It was just his room key, but my traitorous body would have nodded to most anything at this point.

  He teased the tip of the card up along the curve of my hip and all the way up my side. In languid motions, he trailed the card back over my hip and down my thigh. He repeated this up and down motion. Over and over and over again.