The Princess and the Pizza Man (Destined for Love: Mansions)

by Cassie Mae

  “Your names are in front of your seats. I know it’s out of comfort zones to sit by strangers, but here at Frostville, we like to mix things up and force you to get to know each other.”

  She winked, and on her, it was cute. Probably because she added a sound effect and pointed her finger. She had good stage presence.

  They all shuffled through to the dining hall, another room that was bigger than anywhere Will had ever owned. Bells was first—of course—following Winter right on her heels. She was placed between two men: the tall black man who’d entered with Winter in the other room and the man who’d attracted all the women. Will caught the grin on her face when the popular winker took a spot next to her, smiling a smile that told Will he was gonna watch that interaction. He was there to make sure she wasn’t going for any old yahoo, after all.

  Will found his name between two women, and he wondered if the boy/girl pattern was on purpose. Back to elementary school, he mused.

  As soon as they all were seated, a parade of kitchen staff came in with the first course. Will rubbed his hands together, anxious for something, anything, in his belly.

  “I’ve never seen someone so excited for a salad,” said the woman on his right. She was older, with laugh lines around her eyes and a clip in her red hair.

  “I’m excited over all food,” Will said, tucking his napkin into the collar of his t-shirt. He paid no mind that he was the only one placing it there and not on his lap.

  “You sound like our princess,” she answered, and he felt his brows turn in. The woman nodded at Winter who sat at the head next to a chubby and boisterous man. “Princess Winter. She’s quite the foodie.”

  “Princess?” he asked. “Princess of what?”

  The woman laughed like he was an idiot. “Frostville.”

  Okay, so people here were crazy. Either that or Winter put off the cute, “I’m normal, too!” vibe while secretly making everyone refer to her as royalty. Will stabbed his salad and shoved it in his mouth, bitterness making him sloppier than he would’ve been under different circumstances. Princess? Really?

  The woman placed her fork down and stuck her hand out. “I’m Ms. Emily Vancouver. Winter’s tutor.”

  Will swallowed and shook her hand. “Will Monroe. Just a guest here.”

  “Yes, I figured.” She went back to her salad. “Where are you from, Will?”

  “Alabama, ma’am.”

  “I was thinking around there. Your accent is so very strong.”

  He grinned through his food. “First time someone’s told me I have an accent.”

  “You’re joking.”

  He shook his head, the conversation making him feel a bit more at ease. But he wasn’t about to look at Winter. Or call her “Princess” for that matter. Who was that full of themselves?

  “This is my first time outside the state.” A long breath fell from his lips. “Been kinda strange.”

  “I can imagine.” Ms. Vancouver plucked her glass up with a dainty, fragile hand. “I love Alabama. Such good people there.”

  His heart lifted. “You been?”

  “Many, many times.”

  They fell into an easy conversation all through the first and second courses; Alabama was something Will could talk about for days on end. And it was a somewhat cure for his homesickness… and his mood. After the main course of chicken cordon bleu—which was phenomenal—he felt his irritation float away, replaced by relaxation.

  “… you would not believe the look on this guy’s face!” The loud voice of the man next to Winter came floating across the table, grabbing the attention of every guest there. He was laughing, his face near purple as he tried to get air into his lungs. Will started laughing, too, wishing he’d heard the beginning of the story that had this guy rolling.

  Will’s eyes flicked to Bells, her head leaned in closely with the woman-magnet. He planned on talking to the guy at some point.

  The hulk of a man on the other side of her, shifted in his seat, his eyes darting to Winter and to her plate. Back and forth. Like he was waiting for her to take her first bite of the dessert.

  Winter laughed, completely oblivious, her smile so genuine and adorable that Will had a hard time believing the woman was conceited at all.

  There was this sudden tightness in Will’s chest that made him want to get up, cross to her side of the table, and knock that dessert right to the floor. What in the world was that guy lookin’ at? What was he waitin’ for?

  “Oh,” Winter said to one of the servers, jolting him out of his reverie. “I asked for strawberry. Not strawberry chocolate.”

  She went to hand the bowl back, and Will felt a blanket of relief. He was most likely being paranoid, but he’d known several people who would tamper with food. Employed some, fired them all.

  “I’ll trade you, Princess,” the man next to her said, his face turning back to its original color, but there were still tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. “I prefer the mix anyway.”

  They gladly traded, and the man started telling another story. Will’s eyes shot back to Mr. Big and Tall, but he was getting up, excusing himself politely to use the restroom.

  “You all right, dear?” Ms. Vancouver asked. She put a light hand on his arm. “You look upset.”

  He shook his head. “I’m good. Thank you, ma’am.”

  But he wasn’t good. Not at all. Something felt off, but he shrugged it away when Winter and the man next to her took healthy bites of their food with no real effect other than big eyes and excitement for their next scoop.

  “That’s Joshua, by the way,” Ms. Vancouver said, nodding toward the jovial guy. “He’s known Winter almost as long as I have.”

  “How long’s that?”

  “Twenty years. I babysat those two ruffians every Tuesday and Thursday for six years while his mother was working. They were quite the pair.”

  Will watched the two, laughter punctuating any awkward silences that were found among the table. It felt just like him and his sister—too loud for their own good. He liked it.

  Clearing his throat, he glanced at the empty seat next to Bells. “Uh, do you know the man who was sitting there?”

  She tilted her head and followed his gaze. “Oh, you mean Michael? He and the princess are good friends… now.” She leaned in and covered her mouth. “They have a history. A very long, a very complicated history.”

  He slowly nodded as she backed away. Maybe that’s why Michael was so interested in Winter’s food. He knew her well, knew that wasn’t what she ordered, maybe jealous of the relationship between Joshua and Winter…

  “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, taking the napkin from his collar and pushing his chair out. Ms. Vancouver looked like she wanted him to stay, but he took off as quickly as he could without causing too much of a scene. He wasn’t sure about that Michael character, but he’d have a better idea if he talked to him. Will prided himself on reading people, and his suspicions might subside once he’d actually had a conversation with the guy.

  He went out into the lounge, backtracking once again to the main entryway.

  “Yeah, it’s been done,” he heard a deep voice say. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, so he stood stone still and listened. “Princess better watch her back.”

  “First night, huh?” a female voice answered. “Do you think it should’ve waited for a bit?”

  “Had to be done tonight.” The voice drifted into whispers. Will could only hear the pounding of his heart as he strained to listen in.

  A piercing scream cut through the air, and Will whipped around. His feet couldn’t carry him fast enough to the dining hall.

  The chatter and buzz cut off as Will banged the double doors open, eyes bulging at everyone standing, desserts forgotten as they stared at the table head.

  “He’s dead, Princess,” a man said, his hands on Winter’s shoulders. “He’s… he’s gone.”

  Will tore his gaze from the tears streaking down Winter’s face to the man slumped i
nto his chocolate and strawberry dessert, a laugh still on his unmoving, purple lips.

  Perfect, Winter thought as she sobbed over Josh. Some nights she couldn’t seem to get the tears flowing, especially since Josh usually had her laughing before she had to cry, but tonight, she had this.

  Edward, another one of the brilliant actors, had her by the shoulders, consoling her and begging her to get away from the body. The chatter and buzz and excitement in the room was palpable, and Winter had to really concentrate on the scene so her giddiness didn’t get the best of her.

  Stay in character, please. Don’t mess this up!

  A warm and rough and unfamiliar hand grasped her wrist, pulling her upward. Her eyes were blurry as her back fell flush against a body of steel, a strong and firm arm wrapping around her torso and dragging her toward the doors.

  Her heart drumrolled in her chest. This wasn’t part of the act, but she kept her head down, going with the improvisation.

  “Shhh…” the man said, moving her with ease. His hand came over her mouth, something she definitely wasn’t expecting and didn’t like much, but she kept on acting. Maybe Mel had given someone a new direction and kept it from her to make sure her reactions were authentic. It’d happened before.

  The dining hall grew smaller and smaller in the distance as he led her to a side hallway, one she rarely ventured down—only once in a blue moon when she felt like a swim. The shimmering reflection of the sunset on the pool outside lit up the walls, making them wave at her as her captor took her away.

  She blinked out her last bit of fake tears, noticing a pair of shoes she’d never seen before. Winter stopped dead in her tracks. What in the world…? Panic filled her stomach, and the hand on her mouth tightened.

  “Shhh…” he said again, and her mind reeled, trying to place the voice to a person she knew. The creak of a door filled the hallway, and the man dragged her into the pool supply closet.

  He backed them against the door. “Please,” he said, “Winter, please don’t say anything. They can’t hear us.”

  Confusion wrinkled her forehead. The voice… the voice was southern. She pried at the fingers over her mouth, pulling them away one by one. “Will? What are you doing?”

  The hold around her loosened, and she turned around, ready to release a stream of hellfire, put her self-defense training to good use, or simply kick him straight where it counted, but the soft concern in his worry-stricken face stopped her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a rush, “I had to get you out. I think… I think y’all in danger.”

  She blinked, taking a step back into a rack of life-vests. “What?” she said, her heart rate beating down to a normal pace. She had to get back into character, but she was having a hard time coming up with something.

  Will held a finger to his lips and pressed his ear to the door. His eyes focused on the pool cleaner in front of him, but his head looked like it was out in the hall. She’d hate to break it to him, but this place was pretty sound proof.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  His bushy brow furrowed, the corners of his scruff-covered lips turning downward. “Me?”

  She nodded and tentatively took a step forward. She was honestly concerned about his mental state, but she wouldn’t dare say that out loud. “What… why did you take me away?” She couldn’t think of a reason. It was all part of the act. Maybe she was a better actress than she’d thought, and he was really concerned about her “losing” her friend.

  He turned, his breathing shallow and sharp, pulling his shoulders up and down with every intake. His arm lifted, his hand running through the thick strands of his brown hair, and a faint scent of something spicy and familiar filled the air. Salami? No… pepperoni.

  His baby blue eyes suddenly flicked down to her chest, and Winter’s defenses shot right back up as he reached toward her.

  She smacked his hand away. “What do you think you’re—?”

  “Sorry,” he said, putting his hands up. “So, sorry, Miss. I just… a phone. Do you have a phone?”

  His southern accent makes him sound so innocent, she thought and quickly shook it away. Stockholm syndrome was not her style.

  She reached into the lining of her dress and pulled her cell out. He held out his hand. “May I?”

  She searched his eyes for any danger. For someone so strong, there was this childlike quality to his eyes that she no doubt believed women fell all over themselves for.

  “Please,” he said. “I need to call the police. I need to get you safe.”

  “The police?” A thunderbolt jabbed her right in the heart, and she moved around him, trying to pry open the door, but he stepped in front of her.

  “You can’t go out there.”

  The heck she couldn’t. “This is my house, Will—”

  “You can’t.” He settled his massive hand on her stomach, nudging her back. His innocent eyes turned intense and serious, concerned and genuine in a nanosecond. “I heard him. Michael. And the way he was looking at you… Winter, I think he’s gonna hurt you.”

  Stay in character… “What did he say?” She grabbed his arm. “What did you see?”

  “I think someone wants to kill you, ma’am.” His voice became ten times more urgent, no more tip-toeing around, and thank heavens, because Winter finally was able to understand what had happened—and appreciate his southern charm in the way he’d addressed her.

  He swiped the phone from her hand and got in two numbers before she stopped him. “Don’t call the police.” She was going to have to break character, if just for an explanation. “Joshua was supposed to be poisoned tonight.”

  “You’re in on it?” He backed up into the door. “What in the Sam Hill is going on in this place?”

  She bit away her laugh at his adorable curse, but this was definitely not the time for it. “You do know this is a murder mystery stay, right?”

  His back straightened, his lips flattening to a thin line. “What?”

  “A murder mystery. It’s all an act for the guests. For you.”

  A flush ran over his skin, and Winter didn’t need any help holding back her laugh this time; the darkened look in his eyes did the trick.

  He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing deep. “Excuse me,” he said as politely as he seemed he could muster.

  Then he opened the door and strode down the hall.

  Will didn’t have to go very far before running into his sister; Bells was already in the main foyer, perched on the bottom stair and looking like she’d been waiting for him to emerge.

  “Will…”

  “Think you shoulda clued me in?” he said, embarrassment shaking his voice. She shrugged innocently, batting her eyes in the way she’d always done when she knew she was wrong.

  He sighed. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

  “It’s only eight o’clock.”

  “Nine where we’re from.”

  She pushed off the stair and clacked her way over, her dress swishing with every movement. Noise from the dining hall echoed in the distance. Will looked over his shoulder, hopin’ Winter wasn’t following him. He’d most likely scared the living daylights outta her. But she’d acted well, only once seeming to break character. He’d seen it in her eyes, the character disappearing and a person taking its place. Who else was in on it? Joshua, obviously. What about her security guard, Ms. Vancouver, the man sitting next to Bells at dinner…?

  I’m a fool.

  “Is our entire stay a murder mystery?” he asked. Bells gave him that innocent look again.

  “Yes. But don’t look at me like that. It’s fun. You’ll love it. Adds a twist to the whole place, right?”

  “If you’re so confident in me liking it, why didn’t you tell me?”

  He had her there. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms in defense. “You’d thrown such a fit when I asked you to come with me, not to mention all the whining on the drive up here, and you’ve been a party pooper since we walked through those exquisite double doors
. So don’t you go accusing me of making things worse when it’s you who needs an attitude adjustment.”

  “I just humiliated myse—”

  “And another thing.” She jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “Stop moping about the weather. We’re inside for pete’s sake.”

  “Geez, Bells, I’m not trying to—”

  “This could be it, Will. This could be the place I find the love of my life. I brought you for support, so support me. Put on a smile, even if it’s fake as all get out. You owe me that much.”

  He let her take a beat. Her face had turned the color of fruit punch, her hair loosening from its up-do. Her dramatics didn’t surprise him much anymore, but they did when she brought up some good points in her ranting. The way she made him feel bad when he was initially irritated with her was one of her super powers. And she used it often.

  “’Kay,” he said when he was sure he wouldn’t get interrupted again, “I’ll smile. I’ll enjoy it, a’right? But, gosh, Bells, try to fill me in on the details before I think someone’s been murdered right in front of me.”

  She snickered, the tension leaving her shoulders. “This way was much more fun to watch. You shoulda seen everyone when you dragged the star of the show from the room.”

  He ran a hand down his face, covering the rising heat. “I should make you explain all of that.”

  She waved him off. “Oh, everyone just thinks you’re a part of the act.”

  “Not the actors.”

  “Winter will tell them, I’m sure.” She twisted a finger around one of her red curls and let it bounce against her shoulder. “They’re really good. Not a single person broke character. I’m actually not one hundred percent sure who’s a guest and who’s an actor.”

  “Guy next to you is in on it.”

  “Garreth?” she said, disappointment tickling the edges of her voice.

  “The big guy.”

  “Oh, that’s Michael. Yeah, he’s definitely one of the actors.”

  “What makes you say tha—”

  “But Garreth… he’s a guest.” She sighed, her mind gone to whatever else this Garreth was, besides, obviously, a woman-magnet.