Royal Baby_His Unplanned Heir

by Layla Valentine

  I tried to remember what Paul had said about fate, about our stories being intertwined. I thought about the sheer adoration in his eyes as he’d made love to me, and there was no longer any doubt in my mind that what we were doing was rooted in love. Perhaps I was being foolish, perhaps I was being naïve, but I wanted so badly to believe in this idea of fate that Paul had instilled within me.

  I had to shake off these thoughts before meeting with my mother. She always seemed to notice when I had my head in the clouds, daring to think about anything besides my future potential income. I’d learned to wear a mask of interest when it came to things she discussed with me regarding EBgen, but I could only hold out for so much longer. I continued to hold out hope that watching the event with me that evening would change her mind about free spirits altogether. Perhaps that was the naivest thought of all.

  When I knocked on her door, she groaned for me to enter. I hesitated, lingering outside her door for a moment before pushing through. As I might have expected, she lay sullen in her bed, sunglasses obscuring her eyes from view.

  “Are you all right, Mom?” I inquired gently, closing the door behind me.

  She remained silent for a long moment, lowering her sunglasses to look at me.

  “Mommy’s just tired, darling,” she drawled, adjusting the glasses back onto her face.

  I could no longer tell if she was actually looking at me, which I suppose made it easier. I bounced from foot to foot, well aware of how anxious I must have looked, but she seemed to pay me little mind. Maybe she was adjusting to the fact that her daughter had—God forbid—a personality of her own!

  “Stop with that dancing and tell me what’s on your mind. You don’t come to see me for small talk,” she said curtly, and I forced myself to fall still. I offered her the politest smile I could muster, clasping my hands in front of myself.

  “I was hoping you would come with me to see the show tonight. Paul has one of the leading roles, and I think you’ll be really impressed,” I said, my voice cracking more than I would have preferred.

  She chuckled, the sound nearly evolving into laughter before she cut herself off with a pained groan.

  “Of course I’m going to see the show, you silly girl. I arranged the whole event, did I not? And though I have my regrets about hiring this Paul fellow, I suppose there’s no harm in watching him perform. That’s what the help is for, after all,” she hummed, sitting up and glancing at the clock.

  I swallowed my anger at the implication that Paul was little more than a servant to her, remaining silent as she contemplated the time and God only knew what else.

  “It’s starting in an hour, right? We may as well go watch the carnies set up their little act. I’ll have the catering crew begin serving early,” she said, slipping out of bed.

  I felt my eyes widen, uncertainty creeping up my spine. My mother was clad in little more than a silk robe, and while I had seen much worse, I had my doubts about accompanying her in public. She slipped on her bedroom slippers, either entirely unaware of my distaste or reveling in it.

  “Aren’t you going to wear the evening gown you packed?” I asked gently, and she turned a cocky smirk upon me.

  “Oh, you know how it is, Ella. You just have to let it all hang out at these sort of events. What, don’t tell me that I’m more free spirited than you?” she said coolly.

  I narrowed my eyes, immediately realizing the game she was playing. All right then, if she wanted to look foolish in front of her employees, it was no skin off my back.

  “You’re right, of course, Mother. You’re always right,” I said blandly. “Let’s go, then,” I announced, slipping towards the door and pulling it open.

  The evening air was cool on my skin, and I allowed myself to take a small comfort in it. The fire of passion that burned within me had given way to giant flames of rage, and while I felt entirely too hot and flustered to face Paul at the moment, I had no choice in the matter. I couldn’t let my mother see that she was getting the better of me.

  We walked side by side towards the entertainment hall, and my mother threw the doors open with a flourish. The circus workers were setting up props for the show, and I spotted Paul in the center. He was clad in shimmering cloth, just enough to obscure his more private areas. His body was painted a beautiful shade of silver-toned blue, and my breath caught in my throat as I laid my eyes on him. He looked like some sort of angel, some mystical creature sent from the heavens to save me from my dull existence.

  “Is that him? He looks like a goddam fairy,” my mother said with a smirk.

  I refused to let the remark get to me, guiding her to our seats nearest the performing area without another word.

  As Paul worked through the preparations for his routine, I watched with a content smile, noticing how the spotlight danced across his skin as if it were where he truly belonged. I sighed longingly, and my mother turned an icy glare upon me.

  “Keep it in your pants, Ella, for Christ’s sake,” she bit out. I rolled my eyes, ignoring her as more and more people began to file in.

  The crew retreated to the backstage area, and all that remained were the props they had set up. EBgen employees began to fill the room, and my heart pounded in my chest as I took in my mother’s tense expression. I was convinced that when she saw just how much her employees loved the act, she would have no choice but to admit that Paul was, at the very least, a good performer.

  The lights dimmed, and I could hear the murmurs of the other passengers as everything went dark. All at once, a spotlight shone upon one of the highest acrobatic swings in the room. Paul stood proudly, seeming to hold no fear regarding how precariously he was balanced. Then, as if ready to accept his death, he plunged from the highest perch.

  Gasping, I jolted forward in my seat, just as the rest of the mood lighting hit. Paul was caught mid-air by another man, who flung him across the stage. Paul flipped and turned gracefully, the silken cloth that clung to his form leaving very little to the imagination.

  I glanced over at my mother, who—to my shock—seemed rather entranced by the act. She drew her attention from the stage where Paul was putting on one hell of a show, meeting my gaze bitterly.

  “This is silly. Ridiculous,” she snapped, rising from her seat much to the complaints of the people behind us.

  She barked for them to quiet down, and I felt tears pool in my eyes as she slinked down the hall and out of the entertainment hall. I rose from my seat in spite of how badly I wanted to see Paul finish his act, trailing after my mother like some lost puppy. She stood just outside the door, puffing on a cigarette as if her life depended on it. I approached her carefully, knowing that it would take very little to set her off.

  “Why did you leave the show, Mom?” I whispered nervously, and she fixed narrowed eyes upon me.

  “Because it disgusts me to see where my daughter might end up someday soon. Ella, do you know how hard I worked to see that you would lead the most privileged life possible? Do you know the agonizing hours I worked? How can you be so willing to throw it away just to engage with some pathetic low-life?” she spit out, stepping closer to me and exhaling a plume of smoke.

  I coughed, feeling my fury alight once more.

  “You never cared about what I wanted, Mom! My whole life, all you’ve ever cared about was the company. But I like Paul, and he likes me. He’s a free spirit, and being with him has shown me just how little I desire the life you’ve laid out for me. He’s shown me that I’m the one in charge of my destiny. Not you!”

  She tensed, looking as if she wanted little more than to slap me across the face. It almost felt worse when she simply turned her back on me and started walking.

  “No daughter of mine would act like this,” she muttered, slinking away.

  I felt more tears gather in my eyes, a mixture of anger and agony. I slumped against the outer wall, hearing the rounds of applause from inside the entertainment hall. I couldn’t go back in, not now.

  I could only hope
Paul would forgive me for missing the show. I’d already lost my mother, it seemed. I couldn’t bear to lose him, too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ella

  It seemed like an eternity before Paul emerged from the show. Dozens of my mother’s employees trailed out of the entertainment hall before him, scarcely paying me any mind in their joyful excitement. From what I could discern, the show had been wonderful, and I couldn’t deny the sense of mourning in having missed it.

  I could imagine what Paul would think of me, unable to enjoy his hot bod in action for being a mommy’s girl. I should have simply allowed my mother to leave. I shouldn’t have chased her and I shouldn’t have felt so broken at her rejection.

  Was I truly that bad of a daughter? Were my dreams so unspeakable that she couldn’t even accept me as her offspring until I allowed that which she had laid out for me?

  God only knew what Paul would think, and he was the only thing I had aside from my absent mother. I knew it was a bit soon to be relying on him for my emotional needs, but I needed someone to count on, to talk to, to love me.

  “What’s wrong little bird?” Paul asked, startling me. I quickly wiped my eyes, though I knew it wouldn’t sweep away all the evidence of my weeping.

  He was still slathered in body paint, the silver of it and his clothing making him look like a statue of a Greek god. I longed for him with all of my body and soul, but how could he see anything in someone who couldn’t even stand her ground?

  “Ella, honey,” he murmured, stepping closer. I realized belatedly that the tears were still falling, and cursed myself for what a giant baby I was being.

  “I’m sorry,” I blubbered. Paul looked taken aback, but who could blame him?

  Before I could sputter out some other apology, he drew me into his arms and rested his chin atop my head. I pressed myself into his chest, aware of the body paint smearing onto me but not caring enough to pull away. He stroked a hand through my hair, and I sniffled softly, the scent of the paint stinging my nostrils.

  “I really wanted to see the show. You were so handsome, and, God,” I paused, my voice strained. “I couldn’t have asked for a better performance, from what I managed to see,” I whispered.

  He chuckled warmly, drawing back just slightly to look me in the eye. I could only stare in wonder at just how well the body paint adhered to his skin, even after I had been sobbing against him. I traced my fingers along his pectoral muscles, smirking at the darker shade of blue they had used on his nipples. It was a welcome distraction from the guilt at missing his performance, though that came flooding back as I met his gaze.

  There was an unfamiliar sadness in his eyes, and my heart ached at the thought of being the reason for it.

  “There will be other shows,” he said soothingly, brushing a hand through my hair.

  I took my lip between my teeth, nibbling at it as I tried to discern if he was truly upset or not. I was so used to manipulation from those who claimed to love me; saccharine sweet smiles that prefaced a soul-shattering insult. Such was what made Martha Beck tick, it seemed.

  “How can you not be angry with me? I tucked tail and chased after my mother like some sort of child,” I muttered softly, and his expression turned stern.

  “Ella, you have every right to miss my shows if it means patching things up with your ma. While I certainly don’t agree with the old broad’s methods, I know you love her dearly. Makes my heart ache to think about how she treats you, but come on, love. I wouldn’t be so cold; I thought you knew me better than that by now,” he murmured.

  He brushed the pad of his thumb across my lips, and I took a moment to revel in his gentle touch.

  “I take it things didn’t work out how you might have liked,” he said gently, tugging me from my reverie.

  I felt my eyes prick with tears again and quickly raised a hand to wipe them away before they could fall. My mascara was long past being salvageable at this point, and I knew I likely looked like a raccoon. Paul didn’t seem awfully put off, however, so perhaps it was safe to share my innermost thoughts with him.

  “She said that no daughter of hers would behave in the way I am currently. She seems prepared to disown me over the fact that I want a life beyond EBgen. I’ve been thinking about what you were saying about fate. About how we’re on these trains, waiting until we come to our stop. For so long, I’ve been convinced that my railway lay alongside my mother’s. But now…I’m not happy with where it’s taking me. I want to change directions; I want to…I want to change my fate. I want to be with you, Paul. More than anything, I just want to be your little bird.”

  I wept, and he drew me near to his chest again. His skin was as warm and welcoming as ever against my own.

  “Your old ma is headed towards a train wreck, baby girl. Hell, maybe I have been too. Now I know, though, that you and I are due for a new ride. I’ll change my future, I’ll change my fate, I’ll change everything if it means being with you. As long as we reach that final destination together, I can die a happy man,” he murmured.

  I leaned in to kiss him, sucking on his bottom lip. He shivered, tensing a hand in my hair. There was a pressure to his touch, but nothing harsh. It was simply enough to ground me, to keep me from drifting back into hysterics.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll collect my last check. The money I get from this job will be enough to get us a plane ticket to somewhere in Europe, or something. We may be living paycheck to paycheck for a while, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means being together. I can’t offer you riches, Ella, but I can show you the world as best as I know how,” he said warmly.

  I felt my insides shudder with delight and a touch of disbelief. Was I truly going to run away with this man, this gorgeous performer who I scarcely knew? Was I willing to give up the life I knew for a chance at exploring my destiny? The answer was an easy one to come to.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about the future. For now…we have tonight,” I whispered.

  His eyes danced with mirth, and he abruptly scooped me up in his arms. I had to swallow a squeal as he carried me, bridal style, across the deck.

  “Where are we going?” I giggled, the doubt I had felt slipping away with ease.

  “To my room. Your mother won’t know where I’m staying, so we shouldn’t have any interruptions. You’ll have to give me a minute to wash this body paint off, though.” He chuckled.

  I grinned, leaning in lick his cheek. The paint seemed to be water resistant, and I imagined he would have a hell of a time getting it off, which meant less time in bed together.

  “Leave the paint on. You’re my fantastic fairy prince, carrying me away on the adventure of a lifetime.” I grinned, tracing my fingers along his jawline.

  He rumbled a laugh, quirking a brow at my choice of words.

  “Fairy, huh? That’s a new one.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sweeping you off of your feet is something I have no problem with, though, I gotta say.”

  The sun was sinking towards the horizon as we made our way to his room, and I stared at the mishmash of colors in the sky as the clouds melded together. I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

  “You’re so wonderful. Too good to be true,” I mused aloud.

  He might have thought I was being mushy, but in my eyes, it was the truth. He was better than any man I could have ever imagined meeting. Though we had not yet said the words, I had no doubt that he loved me as dearly as I loved him.

  “I could say the same about you, missy,” he replied, stepping around a corner and swiping his key card in his locked door.

  The light flashed green before the door unlocked, and he swept it open with gusto. I giggled as he carried me into his messy room, squealing as he tossed me up into the air. For a moment I was flying, but soon I crashed onto his mattress with a loud thump. He grinned, looping his thumb in the waistband of the shorts he was wearing.

  “You sure you don’t want me to wash off first?” he inquired, sauntering toward
s the bed. I reddened, excitement flowing through my veins.

  “Come on and take me, my prince,” I announced grandly, shimmying out of my gaudy evening gown. I tossed it carelessly to the floor, deciding I would be just as content if I never saw it again. Paul tilted his head, chuckling as he shifted the shorts down his legs.

  Wow. It seemed like whoever had applied the paint had been painstakingly thorough. I wasn’t sure if I should feel jealous or excited. Perhaps a mix of both. He seemed to sense my trepidation, flicking the tip of his blue-painted cock with his finger.

  “I applied it myself, little bird. You don’t have to worry about sharing the goods.”

  He grinned, waltzing towards the bedside table and grabbing a condom out of the drawer before approaching the bed. He wasted no time, slipping on top of me and curling his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. I took the initiative to unclasp my bra, and he smiled toothily as my bare skin was exposed. I shivered at how animalistic he looked in that moment, like I was some morsel, ready to be devoured. For all I cared, he could consume every ounce of me.

  “So, if you’re my fairy prince, what does that make me?” I inquired softly, ghosting my fingers along his abdomen.

  He smiled, peppering kisses along the length of my collarbone.

  “I imagine you’re some human princess, held captive by an evil witch. Evil not-step-mother? Hell, I don’t know. All I know is that she’s the bad guy in our love story.”

  I smiled bashfully, taking no small pleasure in his use of the L word. While it wasn’t an outright confession, it was only a matter of time before we were saying it with every other breath. I tangled my hands in his hair, shivering as he aligned himself with my entrance.

  “What happens when the clock strikes midnight?” I asked.

  “Oh honey, you just wait and see,” he riposted, easing into me with a groan.

  It was still a process adjusting to his large girth every time he entered me, but you wouldn’t find me complaining. He sank his teeth into my shoulder, and it was all I could do but to scream his name as he began to rhythmically rail into me.