Modern Fairy Tale

by Proby, Kristen

  Christian pointed at him. “You I recognize.” He plopped down in the nearest chair. “For a moment, you had me going. Flew all this way for nothing.”

  “Don’t let me keep you from flying back.” Sebastian nodded in the direction of the foyer. “I have plans with Daisy tonight.”

  Christian raised his brows and smirked. “Going over profit margins for her catering business?”

  “Something like that,” he said lightly, unable to confide his fear to his brother.

  “Some things never change and they never should, I guess. Might make the world stop spinning.” Christian grabbed several biscuits, wrapped them up in a napkin, and stood. “Cheers, Bastian.”

  “Have a safe flight home, and tell Zoe I said hello,” Sebastian said, walking with Christian to the foyer.

  Christian nodded. “I know the way out.”

  Just as his brother closed the front door, the French doors in the kitchen swung open, and Ivan burst inside, dripping wet. “I lost her.”

  “You lost who?” Panic swelled inside of him, threatening to explode.

  Ivan flicked water off his hands. “The little countess disappeared.”

  “How in the hell did that happen?” The worst possible situations flashed through Sebastian’s mind. She’d left him, without a note of goodbye. Someone had kidnapped her and he’d soon get a note asking for money. A member of his family had kidnapped her and he’d soon receive a package with her finger or hand in it, if he didn’t come back into the family fold.

  Grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket, he strode to a large picture on the far wall and swung it open. The safe had been installed the day after he closed on it. He punched in the code, opened it, and reached inside to pull out a Glock similar to the one Ivan carried.

  He examined it. All three safety features remained activated, until he pulled the trigger. Smiling grimly, he shoved it in the waistband of his jeans and pulled his T-shirt over it.

  Starting for the door, he pivoted and headed to the bathroom. Without hesitation, he barged inside, read the instructions she’d left on the counter, and then studied the sticks.

  His heart careened wildly for a moment, relief palpable at finally having an answer.

  “Mr. Romanov?” Ivan called from the back.

  Sebastian left the bathroom, determined strides matching his mood. “Let’s go.”

  They exited the house through the French doors. The wet grass was slick beneath his boots as the sun sank below the horizon. Fog had begun to roll in—naturally. “Tell Boris to bring flashlights.”

  Ivan followed. “I’ve secured the perimeter around Hawkfell Hall. No Romanovs, besides your brother and mother, have been spotted in the area.”

  Of course his mother had been there. She’d probably been doing her weekly dancing on Vladimir’s grave routine.

  He and Ivan walked the property for an hour, finding no sign of her. No amount of texts or voice mails made her return his calls. He could only hope she was still too mad and hurt to answer him.

  “Security cameras show her dashing off in the direction of the lake,” Ivan said as he hung up his phone.

  “Shit.” Pulling out his phone, he texted Daisy one last time. Where are you?

  She didn’t answer him and his body became cold. Numb. He’d never forgive himself if something had happened to her, whether by accident or on purpose.

  He ran for the lake.

  Fifteen minutes later, he stood at the edge of the water and shielded his eyes with his hand.

  He found Daisy, sitting at the boat launch with her feet in the water.

  Relief shot through him so quickly that his knees went weak. She was safe. She’d been safe the entire time. Relief gave way to righteous anger.

  He handed Ivan his gun. “Give us some privacy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Small fish nibbled at her feet, tickling her, but Daisy didn’t have the strength to smile or laugh.

  When she’d first found this spot a couple of hours ago, she’d still been mad. Still had been hurt and unwilling to think Sebastian was anything but heartless. Was anything but a man worth knowing.

  But the longer she sat, the more she began to think that she could have been wrong to have let her temper fly so hot. She could have been a little hasty in writing him off. After all, he was still Jules. He was still the man who’d been there for her through the never-ending bills, through her breakup with Glen, through selling her house … everything.

  He was also the man who’d used his knowledge of her to do nothing but good things. Thoughtful things, like showing up when she needed someone. Buying her cupcakes for outrageous sums of money. Telling off Glen and Nina. Remembering everything she liked and didn’t, had offered to pay for her bills by purchasing a billion cupcakes … and a whole host of things that people who cared about each other did.

  But he’d lied to her.

  Only—what made her so pure and good?

  She’d been willing to lie for him for money. He lied to her for no other reason than to get to know her, to let her get to know him. The side, he’d confessed, that he was terrified to share with anyone else.

  “Why in the hell haven’t you answered my calls?”

  Turning, she was stunned to see Sebastian standing beside her, his face harsh and his blue eyes like hot flames.

  Her heart stuttered.

  Despite everything, he still made her heart beat fast, he still made her sigh, and … he was still her Jules. He was still her Sebastian, and had become everything to her.

  “Did you actually fly to my house the night Glen broke up with me?”

  “Yes.”

  So her mind hadn’t been playing tricks on her. “And when you sent me the celebrity look-alike picture?”

  “It was actually me at a bachelor party for Prince Damien. Christian has the exact same suit.”

  All along, he’d been giving her clues but she hadn’t bothered to investigate them, mostly because it seemed outrageous. Heck, becoming his fiancée was outrageous, yet she had done it anyway.

  “Does your time still belong to me, Jules?” she asked softly, not moving. Sebastian looked dark, dangerous, like he’d pounce on her at any moment if she breathed too deeply.

  His face softened, just a little, and then he held out his hand. “Come with me, love.”

  Time seemed to stand still.

  Slowly, she got to her feet and put her hand in his. He jerked her to him, his fingers going to her hair and taking out the chopsticks. They fell on the cement dock with a small thud.

  “I’ll buy you more.” He started in the direction of the Hall, his long legs eating up the distance. She had to jog to keep up with him.

  “Well, I did want the private tour,” she said as they entered the family entrance.

  Sebastian came to a sudden halt, backing her into a nearby corner. “Don’t. I’m barely holding on by a thread. The things I want to do to you right now aren’t civilized.”

  Desire arched between them. She ran a finger down the front of his shirt, and then slipped her hand underneath. His stomach contracted and he drew in a sharp breath.

  “What name should I scream when you’re inside of me—Jules or Bastian?”

  He was on her in an instant, fingers digging into her shoulders. “Don’t care as long as you know it’s me. As long as you know I’m the one making you scream in the first place.” Then his mouth came down on hers, his tongue breaching her lips easily.

  “Which you—Jules or Bastian?” she asked as his teeth caught the lobe of her ear. She gasped in pleasure. His hand found its way under her skirt and ripped off her panties.

  “Spread your legs.”

  Closing her eyes, she did as he asked. He slipped a long finger inside of her sex, finding her shamelessly wet. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

  “I want this. I want you,” she said, her voice trembling. She trembled, but not in fear. This was how she always wanted Glen to be with her. Deman
ding, yet concerned for her pleasure. Sebastian’s thumb pressed against her swollen clit and she moaned. His finger left her and she began to protest, until she heard the rough slide of his zipper, then the silken nudge of his cock as he bent his knees.

  “Took my piercing out earlier, so…” The head of him entered her and he flexed his hips, driving deep. She cried out in pleasure.

  “Wait … we don’t have—”

  “Don’t need it.”

  She gasped. “I’m—”

  “Yes.” He dragged his lips across her throat and slid the smallest of distances inside of her. She grew wetter and groaned. He nipped at her chin. “Yes, you are. Two results, same answer.”

  “Are you hap—”

  “I’m bloody terrified.” He cupped a breast, thumb brushing a hard nipple. “You?”

  She arched her throat and he nibbled his way up, finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. “I’m happy and scared … and you’re making it impossible for me to think straight right now.”

  “Talk. Later.”

  No further words were needed. He grasped her hips, digging his fingers in. If anyone came down this hallway, they would get an eyeful, but she didn’t care.

  A delicious friction built up with every thrust. Her entire being centered on where they were joined. Flesh to flesh, their clothes separating them. Tension built. Desire flamed high. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on for dear life.

  Her body burst into flames, tension snapped inside of her, giving way to wave after wave of pleasure. He surged against her, his body growing taut as he growled her name.

  “I love you, Bastian,” she whispered as the tension left him and the room. “Now tell me your real name.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sebastian could barely drag in enough air, he was panting so hard. Anger and desire had merged together, taking over his body and—

  “I love you, Bastian,” Daisy whispered. “Now tell me your real name.”

  “You love me?” he asked, leaning back slightly to look at her. She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes.”

  This required his entire brain, not just the one he’d been thinking with when he’d ripped off her panties. He let himself slip out of her and adjusted his clothes. “Even after all the lies and what I said earlier about conquer—”

  She placed a finger against his lips. “Even after all of that.”

  He kissed the tip of her finger before she gently pushed it away. “Tell me your real name.”

  “Sebastian Julian Westmoreland Romanov. Jules is short for Julian. I’m named for my mother’s father, the Duke of Everham.” He gave her a wry smile.

  “So you gave me part of the truth.”

  “Yes.” Brushing back her dark hair, he took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “But I meant every word of every email, every text, every chat … those were me, Daisy.”

  Truth colored his words, bright and bold.

  She smiled. “Let’s go home, Sebastian.”

  “You haven’t any shoes on,” he pointed out.

  “Oh. Can we stay here or will you get Ivan to pick us up?” she asked.

  Taking her hand in his, he steered her down the hallway and to the right, stopping at a bathroom along the way. “I’d rather not stay here. My memories of this place growing up weren’t the best,” he said through the cracked open door while she cleaned up.

  Opening the door, she stepped out and gazed at him, happiness radiating from her.

  The color in her face was nearly back to normal, though he knew the blush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes had been put there by him. She’d fixed her hair, piling it into a large bun on top of her head, streams of multi-colored tips sticking out every which way.

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “What about now?” she asked, her head tilting to one side.

  “Now?”

  “After…” She glanced down the hall, in the direction they had traveled only seconds ago.

  “Oh? Yes, well, that certainly—” He flushed and bit his lip, running a hand through his hair.

  She stared at him in bemusement.

  Yes, he, the Earl of Spenserfield, the former President of Romanov Industries, was actually blushing over sex. But it wasn’t over sex. It was over the connection that flowed between them, the love in her eyes, and his baby inside of her. Dipping his head, he peered at her through his lashes, unable to quite meet her eyes.

  Gently taking his chin in her hand, she tipped it up. “Never be embarrassed with me, Sebastian.”

  “I lo—not here,” he quickly amended. No way he’d tell her here. They needed to be at home, at The Rectory. Safe, dry, and warm while tucked into bed.

  Quickly navigating a maze of hallways, they soon arrived in a tastefully decorated room, much like the one in his London home. She paused at the fireplace.

  Above the mantle hung a portrait of Vladimir, Lady Francesca, and two young boys—one small and frail looking, the other strong and tall.

  “Who’s who?” she asked, head back as she stared at the painting.

  “I’m the one on the right. My mother always complained I’d stolen Christian’s good health and her figure when we were little.”

  Daisy glanced back at him. “One twin is always bigger than the other and a lot of times healthier, too. You had no control over that. As for the other … she can get over herself.”

  “I’ll be sure to convey your message to her,” he said, amused and grateful for her defense.

  “Why did you leave at seventeen?”

  He almost lied to her. He almost told her that he’d left because he’d wanted to travel the world during his gap year, but he couldn’t. “I found out that my title, this house, this estate … my past and my future had been bought from the rightful heirs.”

  Turning, she gazed up at him. “I saw a show once where the winner won an English title.”

  “Not the same.” He took a deep breath. “My father paid off the rightful Earl of Spenserfield and took his place. The title and the estate had been sitting here, rotting.”

  “Why?”

  “Why did he want it or why was it rotting?”

  “Both.”

  She wandered over to a club chair by the fireplace and sat down.

  He grabbed a remote off a side table and clicked on the fire. “Neat!” she said, unable to contain her excitement, and then she schooled her expression. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. If I were seeing this place for the first time, I’d think it neat as well,” he offered and maneuvered her so that he was the one in the chair and she was in his lap. He placed a possessive hand on her stomach and she leaned back, laying her head on his shoulder and propping her legs across the width of the chair.

  Holding her like this, he felt safe. She lightly scratched at the nape of his neck. He breathed her in, honey and vanilla mixed in the flowery scent of her shampoo. A man could get used to this, even a man who thought himself to be a monster.

  “Chetham, the earl at the time, apparently sided with the Nazis during the first World War. The Crown tried him for treason, found him guilty, and took everything away. He wasn’t the only titled gentleman to be tried. There were barons, viscounts, and a duke, I believe. Later, they revised the ruling and declared that any heirs could reclaim their title and the estates. So far, Vladimir has been the only one to do so. It was bad enough to live with the taint of that, going to school and being the heir to a treasonous title wasn’t the easiest thing, but I worshipped my father. He didn’t care what everyone else thought, only his opinion of himself mattered. He was a god in my eyes.

  “So, when I found out he’d bought the title, that we weren’t actually related to Chetham at all … Let’s just say that my hero worship began to die a slow, painful death and I let it be known.”

  “You worshiped him despite all the stuff he did to you?” Daisy asked slowly.

  “I did. I loved him, even when he marked me w
ith the Romanov tattoo on my back,” he said, staring into the fire. “I should be proud, he said. I should be grateful for the blood running in my veins, he said. It could be worse, he said. I could have given you a bloody rose on your chest like Christian.”

  All over a fifteen-year-old boy’s temper, all over Sebastian shouting in front of the wrong people at the wrong time that he hated being a Romanov. For his punishment, he been held down, tied up, and forced to endure hours of pain as one of his father’s bodyguard inked him.

  “Try denying me now, boy,” his father had spat as Sebastian had struggled to his feet. His back burned, his skin felt stretched and thin.

  He’d stumbled and instead of reaching out to steady him, his father had kicked his legs out from under him.

  The touch of her hand on his pulled him back to the present. “Do you want to talk about it anymore?”

  “No.” He caressed her stomach, slow easy glides that hitched up her shirt and made it possible for him to touch her bare skin. It was hot and smooth beneath his palm.

  “That feels very nice.” She made a little noise, a sort of purring sound of pleasure. He kissed the top of her head and smiled against her hair, then frowned at her lack of concern. Shouldn’t she be running away from him, yelling at him that monsters bred monsters?

  Like his mother had? Oh holy hell, he had mother and father issues. Actually, he just had issues. Screwed up, needed-to-be fixed issues.

  None of that seemed to bother Daisy.

  Don’t you think it makes me a monster?

  No, it makes you human.

  Even then, when he’d bared his soul to her in their texts, she’d not judged him. She’d listened and given comfort. Maybe it wasn’t so unreasonable to believe he was worth loving.

  She snuggled deeper into his arms, her body relaxing into his in soft degrees until he knew she was asleep.

  Ivan ambled inside, his eyes missing nothing, yet the bodyguard remained the epitome of discretion. “Shall I bring the car around?”

  “Yes. It’s time I take the little countess”—Sebastian flashed a smile as he stood, cradling the woman he loved against his chest—“home, don’t you think?”