by JT Schultz
“I must be crazy. I’m talking to a frog. A frog with an accent.”
“I’m actually a prince. My first language is Italian.” His cut ached and he wasn’t sure why he even tried to explain himself.
“Of course.” The man’s tone revealed his uncertainty. Under the light of the Beverly Wilshire garden, it wasn’t hard to miss the skeptic expression. “An Italian speaking prince. I find that as difficult to believe as you speaking.”
He thought for a moment. “I am talking.”
The stranger chuckled and nodded. “I know.”
“Can you help me?” He had never been at anyone’s mercy, now in a strange country; he relied on the compassion of the stranger.
“Well you're hurt and you’ll never survive the rain; it can be cool this time of year.” He sighed. “If you don’t mind girls I can take you home.”
“I love girls and they love me.” His lashes slammed shut with disbelief over the mess he was in. Already cold he shivered. “At least they loved me when I was a human.”
“Well no use feeling sorry about your predicament.” The man’s voice carried sad undertones.
Luciano opened his eyes and stared at him. “How can I not?”
The expression on the man’s face revealed definite indecision. “Come on,” the man reached down, picked him up and smiled. “Now that we're both soaked, let’s get home where it’s dry.”
“I’ll return this act of kindness and help you one day.” He meant the words he spoke, maybe for the first time in his life.
“No one can help me.”
“I’m Luciano. I believed no one could help me either.”
The man smiled, the gesture softened his features. “My name is Albert Starling.”
“Thank you for rescuing me and I’ll keep my word about aiding you.”
“I wouldn’t thank me until you’ve met my daughters.” Albert told him with a small chuckle.
Daughters are good. One kiss and I’m on a plane home.
“So Albert, how many girls do you have?”
He chuckled. “I have three.”
Perfect!
“I can hardly wait.” With any luck, he would beat his parents back to the palace and be waiting for Ramona to step off the plane. When they met again the witch would die for what she’d done.
Luciano poked his head out of Albert’s suit coat pocket and glanced around the large entrance of the home. The residence was smaller than the castle but nicely done. He knew from the conversation in the limousine that Albert was in the commodity of sugar. Currently, he had a lot of the sweet substance and if he didn’t liquidate soon, he was going to lose his house and everything else he owned.
Albert had saved him and now he planned to keep his word and make sure Albert got a hold of his father. If there was one thing Cammarata needed it was sugar. After all, it was an island country known for chocolates and currently suffered a shortage.
“Stella! Georgina! Chloe, I’m home!” Albert called out to what appeared to be an empty house.
Ah the daughters, now for the good part.
A large hand reached in and lifted Luciano out of the safety of the pocket and sat him on a table. The marble was cool beneath his feet.
A beautiful blonde about seventeen years in age came bounding into the room. “Daddy, you're home! What did you bring me?”
“Ah, my lovely Stella,” He kissed her cheek. “There are souvenirs in my luggage.”
Stella’s gaze narrowed and she pointed at Luciano. “What is that?” Disapproval crossed her features and another blonde about a year younger but almost identical to her in looks came to stand next to her.
“Oh my God! It’s a mutant frog! Daddy!” The new arrival sneered. “Why did you bring it home instead of just putting it out of its misery?
Mutant? Misery? What the hell. Albert is so nice. His daughters are beautiful, but bitches.
Luc’s heart sank. He had been a gorgeous prince. Now he was truly nothing, and apparently had no right to live.
“Georgina!” Albert scolded. “He’s hurt and needed sanctuary.”
So blonde number two is Georgina. Interesting.
“I’m sure my science class will take him.” Stella interjected then laughed wickedly.
“Oh my god! Stella, stop being a bitch! The frog is injured.” A new voice had entered the room and he found the compassion in her tone surprising.
He blinked at the tall, slender brunette with a bit more curves than her older sisters. Her hair fell in braids and glasses covered big brown eyes.
“Chloe don’t call your sister a bitch.” Albert scolded to the latest arrival, younger by a couple years than her sisters. She looked nothing like them.
Chloe didn’t seem fazed by her father’s words. “Sorry Dad, but if the slang fits.”
“Oh this from you,” Stella sneered. “The only reason you like the mutant amphibian is because he’s as ugly as you.”
The youngest Starling flinched as if she’d received a slap but remained silent.
Albert sighed heavily. “Stella that was uncalled for. Why don’t you and Georgina go see what I brought you in my luggage? I know how much you both love presents.”
The blondes cast Chloe a snicker and fled from the room. The brunette was far from ugly, not drop-dead gorgeous, but she couldn’t be anymore than fifteen or sixteen tops.
She grabbed a tissue from a box on the expensive marble table where he sat. “Why did you bring him home?”
Albert darted a look to Luciano then turned to his daughter. “He’s injured and needed a safe warm place.”
Chloe lifted her gaze to her father and nodded then bent slightly drawing close to Luciano. “I’m not going to hurt you but you’re bleeding.” Her voice was soft and with a shaky hand went to dab his eye. He wanted to wince but the child was nervous enough. She carefully touched lightly above his eye and smiled.
Nice eyes. They were as dark as her sisters’ were blue, but they held kindness.
“Can I keep him?” She sounded so sincere, his heart started to beat fast again and he questioned her motives.
She’s kidding right. Why would she want me?
Albert chuckled. “If you want.”
Lifting her face, she stared into her father’s eyes. “If I can make sure he lives, he won’t be able to go back into the real world. At least here he’s safe. Besides, I like him better than I do my own sisters already.”
He glanced at Albert who shot him an apprehensive expression. Luciano had told him the entire story of how he had gotten into this mess and what he needed to be human again. Albert had given him refuge and in return for the safety, was getting direct contact with the king of Cammarata―his father.
Albert slipped his hands in suit pockets. “Chloe―”
“Dad he needs help.” Her tone held firmness, the young lady sounded determined. She carefully dabbed above his eye again and studied him. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. What she lacked in looks she made up for in compassion. “Someone has to take care of him. It’s not his fault he’s hurt.”
Technically, it's entirely my fault.
He remained silent. Albert knew he could talk, but he wasn’t quite ready to let on to her that he could speak, in two different languages fluently. If Stella and Georgina knew they would proclaim him even more of a freak and his life would be over faster than he could rib-bit.
“Get him up to your room before your sisters get back.”
She nodded and soft fingers touched him, lifting him into her palm. “Come on lets get you upstairs before the blond demonic duo return.” She grinned at her father and took off out of the room. Her hand was warm, comforting.
They hurried up the stairs, down a hall and into a very―
What the hell?
The room he had entered was the pinkest thing he had ever seen―a downright atrocity, really.
She glanced around and he could almost hear her thoughts. Where was she going to put him in the bubble gum colo
red room?
“I guess I’ll set you down for now while I figure out where to put you. She wrapped her long slender fingers around him and it tickled in ways her touch had no right to do.
“Watch your fingers!” He snapped before he thought of the ramifications over him speaking.
Oh hell!
Eyes wide, she stumbled back as a scream left her. Her arms went up, he went airborne and she ungracefully keeled over backward from running into the corner of the mattress. Luciano came down and landed with a thud on her floral bedspread. The plush quilt assaulted his senses as much as her reaction. Big brown eyes peered over the side of the bed and she blinked.
“Oh my god! You can talk!” She breathed in disbelief.
Yeah, I can…Where do I go from here?
Chapter 2
“Did I hit my head? No, you talked before I fell.” Chloe didn’t understand what had happened. Never in all her sixteen years had she encountered a talking animal. Wait―maybe the amphibian didn’t or…
“You did speak right?” She closed her eyes and was grateful her family hadn’t come running. They thought she was strange enough, she didn’t need them thinking she had some sort of mental disorder on top of her bizarreness.
Why would they come running? An action like that might indicate they care.
The frog blinked and then―
Did he just nod his head?
“Yes, I spoke. Don’t look so shocked.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. She struggled for air then lowered her palm away from her lips. Things like this didn’t happen every day, and then again she chalked this too up to her strangeness. “Does my father know you talk?”
The dark green amphibian twitched his nose and tilted his head as if in debate. “Yes, Albert knows I can speak.”
She frowned, not sure what to think but wasn’t as afraid as she was at first. “Am I sane?”
“From what I can tell.” He answered in a soft voice.
“Pardon?” She knew he spoke English but she had been paying more attention to his soft accent than the words spoken.
He groaned and she inched back on the floor away from him.
“Yes, your father knows I talk and you so far seem sane, not exactly graceful, but lucid.”
She wasn’t graceful, besides she didn’t have to be. Both Stella and Georgina were nothing short of perfect in every sense of the word. “I’m a bit of a klutz, but there could be worse things. I could be mean like my sisters, who as I recall had a science class with your name on it.”
His expression turned into what she guessed was a froggy frown. “I appreciate you rescuing me from that fate. I think that would’ve ended badly for me, a petri dish does not sound like a good time.”
He had absolutely no idea how tragic that scenario would have gone. She decided not to tell him how he would be dissected and analyzed. Instead, her eyes glanced to his gash. “Does your cut hurt?”
“It burns.” His tone carried moodiness but she was more concerned over the fact the slash above his eye still bled.
“I can help you.” She leaned in and carefully patted the injury again with the tissue.
He stretched his neck slightly, drawing closer to her. “Why are you being nice?”
“So you not only talk, you’re a skeptic, great, lucky me. Things will get tedious if you question everything I do for you.” She sighed.
What have I gotten myself into?
“Are you always so sarcastic?” He twitched his frog nose again and―pouted?
“Only to frogs who don’t know how to appreciate help when it’s offered.” She dabbed the gash above his eye.
He made a strange grunt-growl sound. “Well you’re hurting me.”
“And you’re being a whiner!” Maybe the name calling wasn’t called for, but then again…
He hopped back and scowled. Quiet for well over a minute he finally spoke. “I’m not a whiner. I just don’t appreciate the pain.”
“If you’d stop complaining, then I could help you and stop the cut from hurting or you can continue whimpering like some baby and argue with me.”
An odd look crossed his green face. “Fine, just be gentle.”
A-ha! Victory was hers; she was making headway with the headstrong frog. “Fine! Stop making this more difficult then it has to be.”
He harrumphed and allowed her to pat his brow again. “To think you’re the nice one.”
She pulled back and stared at him. “Careful or I’ll give you to Stella and let her have her way with you.”
Horror worked its way across his features and his eyes widened in surprise. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Chloe lifted her brows and smiled. Of course, she wouldn’t, despite how cranky and slightly unusual the whole talking thing was, the accent was kind of cool and she liked―
“I don’t believe I caught your name.” She asked making sure that the open wound didn’t have any dirt in the crevice.
“It’s Prince―”
“Oh right, you’re a prince.” She laughed; he was kind of cute with his sense of humor. “Yeah right and I’m a princess,” She giggled. “For the record, I’m smarter and old enough not to fall for the whole kiss me I’m a prince thing.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “It’s Luc, my name is Luc.”
“Got it ,Prince Charming, your name is Luc.”
“And you’re Chloe.”
“You can call me princess if you wish.”
He groaned again. “Chloe is fine.”
Finally, now they had stopped arguing, they were making a bit of progress. Who knew a frog could be so stubborn? “Now let me get something to put on that cut.”
“Are you always so bossy?”
She smiled. “No, usually I save that for my sisters.”
Another odd look crossed his face resembling a smile. “Good to know.”
“So before I get some ointment did you want to know anything else?”
“How old are you?”
She blinked. “I’m sixteen.”
“Oh dear.” He sounded…well...nervous.
Oh dear? “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” His throat moved with the loud gulp. “Could you do me a small favor?”
Not only is he mule-headed he's making demands. Thank heavens he’s cute.
“Anything to keep you quiet for two minutes.”
His eyes widened. She was quite sure if had physical eye brows they would have lifted. “Great, a little cooperation. If you get the need to change your clothes could you do it away from me?”
This is crazy, he already forgets whose room this is.
“Anything to make you happy.”
He raked his gaze over her. At least she was pretty sure that’s what he was doing. He mumbled in what she guessed was Italian then met her gaze. “I never said it would make me happy. Just do this one small thing okay?”
Chloe sighed and pulled herself off the floor then walked toward the bathroom. Hopefully things with the cranky frog would get better.
Change in the bathroom? What is up with that?
She thought a moment.
I’m not that ugly am I?
“Day twelve in captivity.” Luc sighed and glanced at the bedroom door. He wasn’t sure where the time had gone but it was almost two weeks since he’d come to be with Chloe. She should have been home from school by now. What could he say? He missed her when she was gone. She had helped his cut get better and though it still hurt, the nasty gash had healed for the most part. He knew he would have a scar and an ugly one at that once in human form. Not that he could see that happening anytime soon. There was no way he was going to turn back into a human spending his days imprisoned in the pink catastrophe with a teenage girl. It would be one thing if he’d been a teenage boy, but he wasn’t. He was a more than legal―well frog and her…what was the American term?
Right, jail bait.
He glanced around the room.
Someone really should’v
e shot the decorator.
The weird thing was, despite how sorry he was over his situation, he liked being with Chloe and it really wasn’t like this was prison or anything equally dramatic. She was a good kid and definitely had a good heart. From down the hall the sounds of Georgina and Stella arguing echoed into the room.
He muttered in Italian and glanced again to the clock. Those two sisters of Chloe’s were something else―something else not so good. Sure they may have been blessed in the looks department, but the two ladies were selfish, cruel and rude. Such qualities outranked their beauty. They argued with their mother, they disagreed with Albert and fighting with Chloe was their favorite pastime. Not to mention, they bickered often with each other.
It was only a minute later on the clock on the wall then it had been the last time he had looked.
Where are you Chloe?
On cue and in answer to his question she walked in and glanced at him. She shut her bedroom door until it latched then turned and smiled. “Hello Luc.”
“It’s about time. Where have you been? You got out of school almost two hours ago.”
She set the large box in her arms on the bed and dropped her book bag on the floor. “Careful, you sound parental.”
“I was worried.” Was this the worry his parents experienced when he didn’t get in until the wee hours of the morning?
“I went shopping with my mother.” She explained and quickly opened the box. “I bought you something prince charming.”
“Was that sarcasm?” He didn’t like her tone.
She rolled her eyes and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Heavens no, not when talking to you.”
Oh yeah that’s sarcasm all right.
“No, of course not.” He hopped down off her dresser where he had rested in the sun, not to mention the exceptional view of the clock and landed on the bed next to the box. “So what is this?”
She tilted her head and shrugged. Right—the voice of comebacks finally chose now to be quiet as she unwrapped whatever hid in the brown cardboard folds.
“Chloe don’t keep me in suspense, you know I lack patience.” Did the child not learn this by now? He never realized how lacking he had been, since as a prince, no one ever had kept him waiting.
