Damsels in Distress: Book Two: Desperately Ever After Trilogy

by Laura Kenyon

  She was too angry to move, and before long he was inches in front of her, apologizing for not forwarding the electricity notices or continuing to fill her account.

  “What do you mean continuing to fill it?” she snapped. “There was money in there when I left and—”

  “And I used it to pay your bills.” A swath of hair tumbled over his left eye. Rather than flick it away, he slowly rolled his head to the other side—as if changing the angle at which he saw her might change the spiteful expression on her face. “The bills that continued to come after you left … four months ago. It’s not my fault if you didn’t compensate for the allowance I’d been giving you. Surely that hotel must be raking it in by now.” He smirked, then raised his eyebrows in realization. “Or did you think all that money was just miraculously regenerating?”

  Belle felt all of her anger crystallize and shatter in a mist around her. How could she have been so stupid? She’d been so preoccupied with Donner’s pre-nup, and the baby, and the inn, and Ruby’s prophecy, that she hadn’t even thought about it. Some savvy businesswoman she was.

  The only thing worse than realizing she’d been so oblivious was realizing Donner’s hand was on hers now. And his chest was inches from her chin. And he smelled like the one good year they’d had together, rather than the booze and debauchery that came later.

  “Just come back and you won’t have to worry about things like money,” she heard him say. “You’ll have everything. Like before but on your terms.”

  “You threw me away,” she said, more to herself than to him.

  “I told you, I’ve changed. Just like I promised I would. Don’t you remember?”

  Belle’s head spun as memories of Letitia’s anniversary party flooded into it: Donner on his knees, begging her to come back. Donner grabbing her by the arm and proclaiming that she was his. Donner actually raising his fist against Penny before Ethan intervened. She’d revised their story that night, telling him that they’d never really loved each other to begin with—they were just in need of each other as means to different ends. Of course she remembered. The image of him walking into the darkness had been seared into her brain forever. But she never wanted to think of it because she never wanted to question whether she believed everything she’d said.

  They’d stood in this room many times before, for holidays or lazy Sundays or yet another disappointing pregnancy test. She knew its marble floors and wall-to-wall bookshelves and grand piano all too well. But these were the softest words he’d spoken here in years. And even though they were about his betrayal, Belle found her anger easing. Her hands had stopped shaking. Donner’s fingers curled around them. She felt the heat of his body close to hers as he let out a long, slow breath. She was acutely aware of her heartbeat—and the baby doing somersaults in her womb.

  “I miss you,” he said, reaching for her cheek with his free hand.

  A sudden kick to her kidney jarred her awake. “You have no right to miss me,” she said as his hand fell away.

  “Oh, come on. What do I have to do to convince you? I haven’t been with anyone since you left.”

  Belle let out an alien, cold laugh as the tender moment between them collapsed. “Oh, gee, well that changes everything! I guess you deserve a prize for actually honoring your marriage vows for a few weeks. Must have been tough for you. Need I remind you that you didn’t just screw my sister … you actually wanted to marry her?”

  Propelled by some sort of infantile fury, Belle hurled herself towards the other side of the room. She just needed to put some space between them. He sped after her but wound up caught on the other side of the piano. Both of their reflections stared up from the polished black lid: Belle clutching her hand like a wounded animal, Donner narrowing his eyes to better focus on his prey.

  “What are you trying to do?” she shouted. “You think you can just trade your silk shirts for a cozy sweater and charm me back after everything you did? Like I’ll just swoon at the thought of your attention and wipe the slate?”

  Donner moved to the right, but Belle was prepared and shimmied as well. Then he slid left. She twirled away from the piano and stopped on the other side of the couch. He tripped forward, slamming into the bookshelf and sending a bronze falcon clattering to the floor. They watched it roll—wing over tail over wing—till it came to rest beak side up. It was a gift from Donner’s mother Hazel, having been in her family for years.

  They flashed each other a “close call” look that inferred a sort of humiliated peace. They were acting like children. They were supposed to be monarchs.

  Without another word, Donner picked up the statue, placed it back on its shelf, and returned to the couch.

  Belle took a deep breath and looked out the window. There were the beautiful gardens in which her father picked the rose that started this whole mess in the first place. There was the weeping willow tree where she first met Donner—in dreams—before she knew he and the monster were the same. There was her car, a little worse for the wear of careening over here, with Gray drumming the dashboard inside of it.

  Her stomach shifted to one side. Then the other. Gray was sitting out there, possibly watching all of this, with no way back to the inn. She’d nearly killed him driving over here. And all for what? Money? Pride? How selfish could she be? Not long ago, her life’s purpose had been bending over backwards to help even those who hurt her. Her determination to control her own life was turning her into a monster. There had to be a better way.

  “I have to go.”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than Donner was back on his feet. Belle scurried for the door, only to see it slam shut on its own accord seconds before she reached it.

  “That’s not fair,” she said, spinning around. “You can’t use magic to keep me here.”

  It was an argument they’d had a million times and never resolved—the closely guarded fact that Donner’s mother was pure blood fairy and his father was a distant descendent, giving Donner seemingly meaningless powers like summoning objects from across the room or pushing them away. It was only when he got angry that they posed a real threat, so she’d kept the secret. She didn’t want her child on some Parliamentary watch list. But he was never supposed to use them against her.

  One towering mass of muscle, Donner seemed to take all the light from the room as he leaned over her, trapping her against the door. There was no denying he had a presence—for better or for worse. You couldn’t overlook someone like Donner. “Just let me say my piece,” he said.

  Belle turned her face to stone though her insides were nothing but nerves. “Open the door.”

  “It’s officially been a month since we last spoke about the pre-nup.”

  “Has it?” Belle asked, though she knew it was true. Yesterday had been the Phoenix’s one-month anniversary. She’d dyed the pancakes purple and shared sparkling cider with Gray.

  “I think I’ve been extremely patient.”

  Belle braced for his ultimatum but didn’t try to stop it. What could she say? She knew this day would come eventually. Honestly, she was surprised it had taken this long. He had been extremely patient. And she’d had her chance to find a loophole. Now, at least, the choices were clear: Roll the dice with him but keep custody of her child, or roll the dice with everything and quite possibly lose it all.

  “Look, Belle,” he continued. “No matter what you think of me, that’s my child too. You know how much that means to me. I want to be part of this, and I don’t mean just when you decide to see the doctor. It kills me to be on the outside now, while you’re making all the decisions.”

  Her eyebrows rose involuntarily. She knew exactly what that felt like. “What are you really most upset about losing, Donner? This child or the upper hand?”

  “Dammit, Belle!” In one swift motion, he cursed and slammed his hand into the door—inches from her face. She stiffened up as the other hand followed. She was blocked in on all sides, trapped between his huge arms and solid mahogany. Both of his
eyes were bright red.

  “Look. I’m offering to take you back because I want you back. For some ungodly reason, with all your self-righteousness and judgment, I need you. But I won’t let our child grow up without a father. I know what that’s like.” Belle’s chest heaved as he spoke. His intensity sent waves of terror and, to her shame, excitement, pulsing through her body. “Things weren’t always bad between us, and you see everything through rose-tinted glasses. How come you can’t see us that way?”

  His lips were inches from hers now and she actually—she couldn’t believe it, but she actually—felt herself starting to crack. He wasn’t wrong. They had been happy in the beginning. She had loved him, regardless of what she’d said back in May. But after a year of trying and failing to start a family, he’d fallen away. And that sense of failure—compounded and verified by his rejection—was more painful than anything she’d ever experienced before.

  “Come on.” He peeled one palm away and rested it over her stomach. Belle held her breath and prayed he didn’t feel a kick. “Please. Just come back. This baby deserves to grow up in a castle, with both parents right—”

  A melodic rap at the door shattered the moment. Donner jerked back in surprise, then squinted curiously at Belle. The knock came again, followed this time by a voice.

  “Belle?” It was Gray. She heard the doorknob twist, unsuccessfully. “Is everything okay in there?”

  Like an egg curdling in boiled water, Belle could actually see Donner’s thoughts go from soft and loving, to hard and murderous. He moved her aside and yanked open the door.

  “Hi,” Gray said, bouncing back and forth like a child in need of the bathroom. “Just, umm, heard some noises so—”

  “Who the hell are you?” Donner’s words came out in a roar, not unlike a lion proclaiming dominion over his prey.

  Gray’s eyes flashed towards Belle, but she was too afraid to meet them. She was afraid of what Donner might see if she did.

  “Name’s Gray. New Phoenix employee.” He stuck his hand out and took a rather bold step in—angling his body so that it was slightly between her and Donner. “Pleasure to meet the King of Braddax.”

  Donner barely glanced at the hand before staring intently at his wife. His mouth opened, then closed without making a sound. “Is this what’s holding you back?”

  He stepped toward Belle but Gray quickly blocked his path. Belle sucked in a gasp. Donner’s chest ballooned in front of her eyes. He towered over Gray, who simply raised his hands and shrugged, as if to say, “I don’t want any trouble … but I’m not moving.”

  “You should really get out of my way,” Donner warned through clenched teeth.

  Gray shrugged again. “Love to. But the thing is I need to get back to the inn by four o’clock and that’s in … oh, twenty minutes. So unless I take Belle’s car, I—”

  “Move!”

  Belle’s heart vaulted as Donner jerked forward. But Gray was fast. Extending both arms out and behind, he swept Belle to the side—keeping Donner in front of him at all times—and ushered her out the door.

  “Sorry, man,” he said. “But a ride’s a ride. You know how it is.”

  Belle braced for the inevitable explosion. She expected blood, and broken bones, and Gray being rushed to Marestam General. But then something extraordinary happened. As Gray reached up to rub the back of his neck, Donner caught a glimpse of his forearm and … backed up.

  Then he looked at Belle—that chiseled jaw hanging open in a mixture of shock and disgust—and gave his ultimatum. “I’ll see you at Dr. Frolick’s tomorrow. And I want your answer then.” The words were like a swift punch to the gut. “Otherwise, I’m filing papers.”

  * * *

  Belle was in an emotional cocoon all the way to the bank, where she opened a truly private savings account with the $17.63 in her purse and a $20 emergency bill from the center console. She said nothing to Gray, who asked nothing of her. It was enough that she knew he was there, watching the road with her, glancing her way with each turn of the car, hands at the ready for anything she might need.

  She was driving a little more responsibly now, scanning the slick road and staying no more than ten miles over the speed limit. She still kept forgetting to signal (and she could never get the timing right for the windshield wipers), but under the circumstances was doing pretty well. The world she knew was splitting apart and she was standing on the fault line. She clutched the steering wheel until not just her knuckles, but the backs of both hands were white. This needed to stop now. Her attempts to find loopholes, to save her business so she could provide for her child so that maybe she could beat her husband and win custody in court … it had to stop. At the end of the day, all that mattered was the tiny creature squirming inside her belly and depending on her for life. Donner was right. Their first responsibility was to their little one. And if she had to sacrifice her own happiness … if she had to move out of the inn … if she could never let herself feel love ever again … so be it.

  As they swished through the road, she focused on the sound of the trees breaking their speed, the rain blurring her vision, the jolts from where the pavement had broken. The weather suited her. She was one with the storm. Or so she thought.

  Belle was so preoccupied, she didn’t feel Gray’s hand on her arm until it was too late. She didn’t hear him shout until the car plunged forward with a loud pop, and the tires veered violently to the left.

  “Don’t touch the brakes!” he ordered, straightening one arm against the dashboard and another on the wheel. “Just get off the gas and pull over.”

  Belle scanned the road quickly but all she saw were trees, mud, and thick underbrush. It was the blessing and the curse of living in the woods.

  “Pull over where? There’s no shoulder!”

  Belle was yelling, even though Gray was just barely a foot away. Her heart pounded so fast she thought it might burst from her chest at any moment.

  But Gray, of course, was calm enough to guide her into a clearing between two evergreen trees. The driver behind her blared his horn as he sped past, sealing Belle’s mental breakdown.

  “Ignore that jerk,” Gray said, letting his seatbelt retract like a slingshot. “If he knew who he was barking at, he’d—”

  He paused and twisted on his seat, sending a whiff of spring in Belle’s direction. He cupped both hands on her shoulders and softened his voice. “Are you okay?” She pressed her lips tight and nodded. Everything inside of her was trembling. “Hey, it’s just a flat tire. I’ll patch her up in no time. You did great.”

  His voice was soothing, but the words meant nothing to her. She could feel him, smell him, appreciate him, but in her head she was still millions of miles away. She was watching in slow motion as the mountain of stress she’d been lugging around for months finally crashed to the ground. She pictured each boulder as it rolled away and dropped over the horizon: Her motherless childhood; Donner ripping her heart out and then igniting her reputation; her sister’s betrayal; Ruby’s insistence that all the world’s happiness rested on her shoulders; the very real threat that her inn would fail and she’d wind up destitute, so that even if Penny found a way to break the pre-nup, the courts would sever her umbilical cord with a pickaxe. And now, a flat tire. The final straw.

  “It’s going to be fine.” Gray was struggling to hold her gaze, to toss her a line that would bring her back. “I don’t know what happened in that castle, but you’re strong and you’ll get through it. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I’ll help in any way I can. Belle? Are you listening?”

  Finally, he hooked her chin with his fingers and drew her face toward his. She saw his eyes first—steely and bright like two moons guiding her from the darkness. There was a slight shock and then air broke into her lungs at a normal pace. His palm opened against her cheek and the rest of the world crept into focus.

  “Welcome back,” he said, peering into her and then cracking a smile. “I thought you’d checked out
on me for a minute there.”

  Belle gave a small, self-deprecating laugh on which she promptly choked. Then she burst into tears.

  Gray spouted apologies and dug frantically through the glove box for tissues. He handed them over with both hands, as if offering up a sacrifice. Then he slid out into the rain to work on the tire.

  Alone inside the car, Belle paced her breath to the rhythmic swish of the wipers and watched him—clear and then blurred, clear and then blurred. He circled the car twice, kicking each tire with his foot, and then marched into the woods. By the time he came back—lugging three hunks of wood to steady the intact tire—his olive green shirt was soaked to black and pulled tight against his chest.

  She may have been used to Donner’s brawny, beefy figure, but she’d been wrong to think of Gray as wiry. A far better word was chiseled. His muscles didn’t bulge from protein shakes, but were tight and compact; they’d been created in the real world. Watching him now, with the rain running down his triceps like rivers along a mountain range—

  He caught her looking at him and twisted his face into that once-so-irritating sideways grin. She immediately dove back into her tissues and hid there, feeling the car rock with each push of the jack. The she heard lug nuts being loosened, a tire iron clanging against a rock, and a new wheel scraping in where the old one used to be.

  She’d never wanted a savior, but in so many ways that’s what Gray had become. Wrecking his car to save Beast. Punting the copperhead. Fixing the water heater. Nursing her back to health when she fainted. Standing between her and Donner. And now this. She wanted to repay him. She wanted to repay him in a way the universe didn’t want her to. In a way the man who feared nothing might not even welcome—or understand.

  When they finally got back to the inn, the power had returned and Nathan was standing behind the front desk with model perfect posture—despite the fact that no one else was there.

  “After your tantrum,” he explained in his usual, condescending drawl, “your partner and her … male … came by with a box of circular carbohydrates to lift the guests’ spirits.” He pursed his lips as if the very thought of Rapunzel—or donuts—detested him. “Evidently we’ve gone from luxury inn to motor lodge overnight.”