Claiming Cinderella: A Dirty Billionaire Fairy Tale

by Amy Brent

  ooo000ooo

  We dozed, on and off, in my bed until the party downstairs started to grow quiet. My father tried one more time to get me to come down to greet his guests, but I just continued to ignore him. He left, after screaming at me through the door that I was a disgrace, that I was dishonoring my family name, and shouted that whether I liked it or not, I was going to marry Tony.

  It was easy to ignore him and laugh it off, because in the end though, he joke was going ot be on him.

  I looked at Deacon and stifled my laughter as my dad threatened me a million different ways. Deacon looked upset, like he wanted to murder someone – like my father – but I held him close and told him that soon, we'd be out of there. I soothed him by saying that soon enough, we'd be free.

  Eventually, everything downstairs grew silent. The party was over and it was time to go. And as we prepared to leave, Deacon handed me a gun. I stared down at it then back at him.

  “Just in case,” he said with a wink.

  I nodded. I knew we might run into a guard or some drunk asshole looking for a fight. Maybe even both. I took the gun, figuring that it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Deacon stepped into the hallway first, looking both ways to make sure it was clear, even though I told him it would be better if I did. Just in case. But he refused to let me go out first, fearing that there was danger lurking in the corridor outside my room. He looked carefully, listened even more carefully, and made sure it was clear. When he was satisfied that it was, he motioned for me to follow him out.

  We just needed to get to the bottom of the stairs and if all was clear there, then we could slip out the back. Deacon said he had driven a truck to my father's house – and that was what we were planning on escaping in. We just had to hope that the restaurant didn't have someone else drive it back or else we'd be hoofing it on foot. And if that was the case, it meant a long walk from my dad's property to the main road, and eventually back into town.

  But no matter how far we had to walk or how long it took, it didn't matter to me. Every single step away from my father's house – and my father's life – was a step closer to living my own life. With Deacon. And our child. A step closer to a life filled with happiness and love.

  We made it down the stairs and got to the end of the hallway just fine. We paused, listening and waiting before we continued down the stairs. For a moment, I thought this was going to be easy and I felt my heart filling with hope. Freedom was close at hand.

  But no, I couldn't have been more wrong about that.

  Coming up the stairs, at the same time we were coming down, was one of my dad's guards. A man named Gerardo. He stopped, a puzzled expression on his face. He looked at me first, then over to Deacon. It took a moment, but I saw the alarm begin to spread across his face as he comprehended what was happening. But before he could raise his gun, Deacon was on him. Gunshots could potentially wake up my father – and anybody else in the house – so we needed to keep it as quiet as possible. Not that the sound of an all out brawl was quiet, but it was better than gunfire.

  I watched Deacon struggling with the man and wasn't sure what we were going to do. He seemed to be getting the upper hand, maneuvering himself around behind Gerardo and putting him in a headlock. The guard grunted and looked pained, but he kept struggling, kept fighting, uselessly batting at Deacon's arms with his fists.

  “Look away, Emelia,” Deacon whispered, his voice strained with the effort.

  I quickly did as I was told – not that it helped much. The cracking sounds I heard as Deacon broke the man's neck would forever be ingrained into my skull. Slightly winded, Deacon dropped the man's lifeless body onto the stairs, Gerardo's head was bent at an impossible angle and his eyes were glassy and fixed on a point far beyond the house. Deacon took my hand, trying to snap me out of it. I pulled my gaze away from the body and looked at him, feeling my stomach churning.

  “I'm sorry – ” he said.

  I shook my head. This was no time to get squeamish. I knew that getting out of the house and away from my father wasn't going to be easy – and figured it wasn't going to be pretty either. I knew the possibility existed that people were going to die. But it was easier to grasp when it was an abstract concept – seeing an actual body was a whole different ballgame.

  But I had to be a big girl. I had to suck it up. If I wanted out of this life and away from my father, if I wanted to go away somewhere and build my life with Deacon, I had to simply get over it and push forward.

  “It had to be done,” I said, trying not to look at the guard.

  I couldn't think of him as Gerardo, not anymore. He was dead. He was gone. He was but a faceless stranger to me now. An enemy that stood in the way of my freedom. We'd done what had to be done.

  Deacon and I continued down the stairs, and he looked ahead of us, searching for the threats that lay between us and the back door. When it was clear, he motioned for me to follow him down the hallway again. We walked quickly but quietly toward the ballroom and all remained silent. The further we got from the stairs – and the closer we got to the back door – had me feeling good about our chances of slipping out of this prison once more.

  The big, heavy doors that led out the back were closed, which meant we couldn't see outside. And I knew from experience that they made a thunderous sound when someone pulled them open. Getting out meant we were going to make some noise. But we had no choice. If we wanted to earn our freedom, we were going to have to roll the dice.

  Deacon looked at me, and I nodded, taking a deep breath. I was ready – gun in my hand and at the ready if needed. And judging by the set to his jaw and the look in his eye, he was as ready as I was.

  Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the big, heavy doors. They squealed as mightily as I knew they would, making me wince.

  But as soon as he had the doors open, and the cool night air was flowing past us, we found ourselves face-to-face with Tony and three other men. All of them Irish. All of them, his former brothers.

  EMELIA

  “Deacon, old pal, lovely to see you, lad,” one of the Irishmen said. “What do you think you're doin' here? And where are ya goin' with the lassie?”

  Deacon didn't answer. He stared hard at the gathered men and I could see that he was formulating his plan in his head. He looked at me, trying to tell me something with his eyes – something I wasn't getting. I'd never been in a situation like this before and had no idea what I was doing.

  But I knew that if we were going to go down, I was going to go down fighting. I wouldn't be dragged back into that life again. Not when I had all I wanted in the world standing beside me.

  When Deacon moved, it was smoothly and it was quickly. Before anybody had even registered what he was doing – let alone react to it – he'd raised his arm and squeezed off a shot. The bullet tore through the man who'd just spoken, a fount of blood spraying from the wound in his shoulder. The Irishman squealed in pain and dropped to the ground, clutching his wounded arm. It was a non-lethal hit – I had to give him credit for that.

  But with three others in front of us – and raising their weapons – playtime was over. It was time to shoot to kill.

  Tony took several steps toward me just as the other two Irishmen moved on Deacon. I raised my arm and held my gun steady on Tony. He glared at me, shaking with rage, his face dark and his eyes filled with the promise of a painful retribution.

  “Don't make me do this,” I said, my hands shaking.

  More gunshots and men screaming rang out, shattering the stillness of the night air, but I couldn't look away from Tony. I was afraid that if I allowed my attention to be diverted, he'd move on me and I wouldn't be able to stop him. I had little doubt that Tony would kill me for what I was doing – so there was no way I was going to give him the chance.

  No, my gaze remained on Tony, and only Tony, as he walked toward me, his face growing ever darker with each step.

  “You wouldn't shoot me, princess,” he said. “You're a lot of th
ings – like an ungrateful little bitch for starters – but you're not a killer. You don't have it in you. I can see the fear in your eyes.”

  “Don't call her princess,” Deacon said as he stepped up beside me. “And you should apologize for calling her a bitch, while you're at it.”

  I cracked a smile. He remembered how I felt about terms of endearment like that. It was patronizing and condescending, and when someone like Tony used them, it filled me with a deep, abiding anger. I could deal with a lot of things, but being patronized or condescended to were things I couldn't deal with. Wouldn't deal with. From anybody.

  I considered taking a play from Deacon's book and aiming for the shoulder as I squeezed off a shot – mostly just to prove to the old son of a bitch that I could indeed pull the trigger. But Tony lunged toward me suddenly and I shot on reflex. The noise the gun made as it went off sounded like a cannon and the shockwave from the recoil reverberated all the way up my arm and into my shoulder. It had a kick stronger than I'd anticipated.

  Because it had all happened so fast, Deacon hadn't even reacted in time and I'd been unable to focus on where I was shooting. I didn't have the time to aim as Tony lunged for me. His body collided with mine, knocking me to the ground, and driving the air from my lungs. I screamed as his body pinned mine to the ground. It took me a moment to realize Tony wasn't moving. And until Deacon reached down and pulled the old man off of me, I hadn't even realized where the bullet I'd fired had hit.

  Right smack dab in the middle of his chest. His blood was pouring all over me and when he looked into my eyes, I saw pain blended with hate radiating within them. If he'd had the strength, he would have strangled me right then and there.

  Tony, while not dead, was going to be soon. If he didn't get help, anyway. But I got the feeling that nobody at my father's house was going to go out of their way for him. I didn't think that anybody would be calling an ambulance – at least, not for a little while.

  Deacon hauled me to my feet and I looked down at myself – grimacing at the sight of Tony's blood covering me. I looked up and saw that of the three who'd been standing with Tony, only one of the Irishmen remained. I didn't know why he was still alive, but he was just standing there, looking back at us. He wasn't holding a weapon and he didn't look threatening.

  I didn't understand what was happening, but Deacon kept his gun trained on him. The other man though, held his hands up and didn't make any overtly threatening gestures. Simply judging by his body language, I didn't think he was going to be a problem for us – the look on his face told me that he respected Deacon. Liked him.

  “Neil, let us past,” Deacon said. “Please. I don't want to hurt you. That's the last thing I want, brother.”

  “Your truck is gone, man,” the man named Neil replied. “How are you going to get out of here?”

  “We'll find a way,” Deacon replied. “Don't make me shoot you too. You know I don't want to do it, but I will if I have to.”

  “You wouldn't – ” But Neil must have seen the look in Deacon's eyes because he stopped talking and looked down at the ground. “I'm sorry it's come to this, brother. I never wanted this. I really didn't.”

  “I didn't want it to come to this either, man,” Deacon said. “Trust me on that, Neil. I didn't want this either. I just wanted something – different.”

  “Here!” Neil said, tossing something over to him.

  Deacon stared down at what was in his hand for a moment before looking back at his friend, a questioning look upon his face. He held up the keyring to me and dropped it into my hand.

  “It's one of your cars anyway,” Neil said and smiled. “Figured you might like it back. Should help you get where you're going.”

  Deacon thanked Neil and we rushed from the back of the house and toward a car parked out front. Climbing inside quickly, we drove off as fast as humanly possible, leaving my father and my former life behind. For good.

  Reaching out, I took Deacon's hand in mine. Things might not be easy from here on out. We were alone and we would struggle. But we had each other, and soon enough, we'd have a child. Maybe several more. Life was already beginning to look up.

  “Buenos Aires, here we come, baby,” Deacon said, winking at me.

  I smiled as I looked back at him. I was free. For the first time in my life, I was free.

  THE END

  …..

  A BABY FOR MY SEAL

  Chapter 1

  Shareena Hues spent most of her time in nature. As a photographer, which was her passion and hobby, nature always had her in awe. Sure, she had to pay the bills by doing portfolio work, but her love was nature. Birds and wildlife, the way the plants, trees, and streams would look. She never felt more at peace as she did when she was deep in the woods snapping pictures, and capturing pieces that very few people took the time to appreciate.

  She had been published in numerous magazines, and had written articles to go with them. Writing wasn’t nearly as fun for her, but she was getting good at writing descriptive articles that allowed visuals in words to go with the pictures.

  What she stumbled upon today surprised her. Out in the middle of nowhere, there was a body, laying in a field face down. Carefully making her way over to it, she poked it with her toe. The body shuddered and she realized he was alive. Bending down she helped him turn over and saw a very attractive man, in a navy uniform. It was a good two hours from the nearest naval port or coast, so he was a long way from home.

  “What are you doing all the way out here?” She asked him as he woke up and looked at her with one eye.

  “Bachelor party… gone wild.” He muttered and sat up, holding his head.

  “You had a party all the way out here?” She asked him, shocked.

  “No, it was in town a few minutes from her. The stripper was giving me a ride home. She dropped me off here, took my wallet, and left me to rot. She took my cell phone too.” He muttered. “I know, I know, but I don’t hit ladies. So don’t give me that look.”

  “You let a stripper take advantage of you?” Shareena stared at him and then started to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “You remind me of hot chocolate and smell like vanilla and cinnamon. Unless you want me to eat you, please help me up and let me borrow your cell phone so I can call a buddy to come rescue me,” realizing he didn’t give her his name, he paused and felt slightly embarrassed. “Charles, sorry. My name is Charles Danlies. You can call me Charlie though.”

  “Okay Charlie, I’m Shareena. I have my cell phone back in my car, if you think you can walk that far without falling over.” She helped him up and realized that he towered over her. She could feel his muscles through his uniform and while she wasn’t a small girl, he made her feel delicate and tiny compared to him. The man was a giant.

  “Did you know you have skin the color of mocha? And your eyes remind me of whisky.” He told her, as he looked down at her, “I totally am not hitting on you. However, you are beautiful. Thank you for your help.”

  Shareena didn’t know whether to laugh or feel embarrassed. The man was clearly still intoxicated, despite his night spent in the grass.

  “So, is anyone missing you?” She asked him quietly, changing the subject.

  “No, I work for Navy intelligence. I’m an investigator. I’m on vacation right now. I spent a few years as a regular navy guy. I also spent some time as a navy seal, but I found my interest was investigations and undercover work. I’m also talking too much, so tell me what a beautiful woman like yourself is doing out here.” Charlie asked her, and wondered how to get her number without coming off like a creep.

  “I’m a photographer. I was out here trying to get some work done. Actually, hold on, don’t move, the lighting is perfect.” She told him, and then stood back and took a few pictures of him with the sun high in the sky with him looking bewildered as she snapped a few pictures. “Perfect!”

  “If you say so,” Charlie muttered.

  “I have a consent form in my ca. I w
ill just need a signature to use and sell these photos, if you don’t mind?” Shareena asked him and smiled in his direction, her teeth flashing between her lips.

  “Only if you agree to go on a date with me,” Charlie told her and raised a brow as they reached his car.

  She hesitated slightly. She barely knew him, but it was clear he was a bit of a trouble maker despite being navy intelligence with a background that she admitted had her fascinated. She’d never gone out with a military man before, of any sort. Normally she dated bankers, and intellectual types. This man had brute strength and reminded her of Hercules. Maybe a change of the type of man would be a good thing. She could at least use a little fun.

  Handing him a release form and a pen, she nodded. “Deal, but I get to pick when and where.”

  “As long as it’s within the next week, or I get to decide,” he told her as he filled out the paper and handed it back to her. “Can I use your phone now?”

  “Sure, or I could give you a ride?” Shareena offered before she could stop herself. For some reason, she felt the urge to help him. Something about him had her drawn to him. Despite his size and his obvious military training, she wasn’t scared of him. His bad boy nature seemed to extend to acts of stupid, rather than scary.

  “I’d offer to pay for your gas, but I’m missing my wallet.” He gave her a quirky grin and she laughed.

  “I think I can afford the gas to help you out, as long as you pay for dinner.” She told him and got into her car, and started it. When he slid into the seat next to her, his blue eyes twinkled.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less. A gentleman always pays for a pretty lady’s meal,” he told her and winked.

  “Somehow, you don’t strike me as much of a gentleman,” Shareena told him, then started to back out of the park’s parking lot to take him where he needed to go.