A Cinderella Twist: A Contemporary Royal Romance

by K. S. Thomas

  “No backstory,” I tell her, having spent the last few hours convincing myself she didn’t need one – that I didn’t need one. “The story is really all about the prince. The princess just has to show up and look the part.” And that I can do.

  Turns out, I can do it better than even I imagined. With Sydney’s help and an hour spent digging through Mallory’s work wardrobe, I emerge from my Greer cocoon the following morning, fit to be Lady Greer. That’s what I’ve unofficially named my character. I don’t really expect to be called that by anyone, but inside my head, while I am practicing mannerisms and adjusting my vocabulary to add more dimension beyond hair, makeup and costume, I’m Lady Greer.

  LACHLAN

  I CHECK ALL MY LUGGAGE one last time, just to be sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Sometimes I think I’m so used to being waited on hand and foot, I’ve become too incompetent to manage even the basics of adulthood. Like packing my own bag.

  “I see McKenna’s being nice to you again,” my brother says, standing in the open doorway and tossing my phone onto the bed where I’m standing, mentally assessing my travel checklist. “She just wished you a safe trip home. Apparently, she can’t wait to come for the wedding.”

  I snort. It’s amazing how many people are looking forward to that even when they know it’s not for real. “She’s probably still drunk from yesterday. Started taking shots of tequila at her desk when I told her the news. And I opened with it. She was on shot three and furiously stamping away at forms declaring Triston no longer a person of interest in the search for Monroe’s paternity when I left.” I met her after hours and she was done for the day once she was done with me. Still, she keeps a bottle of tequila in her desk drawer for a reason. I assume there are days she doesn’t make it through to five pm. And not because she has reason to celebrate.

  “How did it go with Mom?” he asks, moving further into the room. This very question is the reason I made sure I came back to the apartment while he was stuck at a late parent teacher conference, and then stayed in the room with Monroe, pretending I was already asleep once he got home.

  “Fine.” I zip up my garment bag, accepting what is or isn’t packed, and move it over to the chair in the corner so I have more room when I go through the really important stuff. Monroe’s diaper bag.

  “Just fine?” Chase prods.

  “Obviously, she was thrilled to hear I finally pulled my head out of my ass and stopped the madness of trying to reunite Monroe with her birthfather.” I should have bought more diapers. I’ll have to pick some up on the way to the airport.

  “And,” Chase continues to press the issue, “did you tell her how you were going about keeping your daughter as well as your royal status?”

  I shrug. “Didn’t need to.”

  “Excuse me?” My brother’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head.

  “It didn’t come up,” I say calmly, pretending to be more focused on the contents of this diaper bag than our conversation. I’m not. I know because I’ve counted the pairs of socks in my hand multiple times, and I still don’t know how many I’m holding. “Once I told her Monroe was coming home with me, she was too excited to bother with details.” Three. I’m holding three pairs of socks. I need at least five. My kid is notorious for kicking things off her feet and winding up barefoot every time I look away for more than a few seconds.

  “Don’t you think she’s going to be a little upset when she finds out you got married and no one told her?” He frowns. “What’s the bigger issue here? You don’t want to tell her the truth? Or you don’t want to lie to her?”

  “I want to tell her the truth.” I drop the socks for the moment, surrendering to my brother’s incessant harping on about having this conversation despite my obvious attempts not to. “But I can’t because telling her the truth but telling my father a lie, feels wrong on levels beyond which I can find within myself to justify. But lying to Mom about getting married -” I can’t even bring myself to finish that sentence. I’m her first born. She had two boys after growing up with all sisters. Chase and I both spent out childhood hearing wistful fantasies of the day we’d grow up and get married and she’d have daughters she couldn’t wait to love as her own just as much as she loved the sons who were. Then Chase took himself out of the running to make that fantasy a reality and now here I am, about to deliver the day she’s so looked forward to, only it won’t be real. She’ll fall in love with Greer, whom she likely already adores, and dive heart-first into every dream she holds for our future, anticipating more grandchildren and family holidays and who knows what else, only to have me rip it all out from under her in two months again. It would be less cruel to have her find out I got married and didn’t tell her. And then tell her why.

  “Sounds to me like you only have one option then.” Chase grins. “Tell Mom you’re getting married. And then figure out how to make it be for real.”

  My brow dips, starting to crinkle before I retract the frown. “Seriously? You too? What is it with all of you and your need to meddle in each other’s relationships?”

  He laughs. “It’s not like we do it all the time.”

  “I find that a little hard to believe.” I pull a large duffle bag down the mattress closer to me. I need to find more socks for Monroe. “All you four have done since I showed up here is meddle. First with me and Monroe. Then Abbas and Mallory. And now, it’s back to me again. Only this time it’s me and Greer everyone wants to share their opinions on.” I stop what I’m doing and turn back to look at him. “How come you’re not in the mix?”

  Chase shrugs. “Wasn’t my week.” Then he laughs again. “Plus, we don’t always meddle in each other’s business. Eat each other’s food, sure. Vote on major life decision as a unit, yes. But generally, we don’t go around pushing our unsolicited advice on each other.”

  “I must be special then,” I grumble, getting back to packing.

  “No.” His hand lands on my shoulder, causing me to stop what I’m doing and look at him. “Greer is.”

  He’s so serious about it, I can’t even respond with a joke. Which I want to. Because I don’t do serious about women. Haven’t in as long as I can remember. There just hasn’t been the time or space for it. “Look,” he goes on, “obviously, you’re special to me personally, being my big brother and all.” He cracks a small smile again. “But I think you already know, deep down, you’re not just agreeing to this insane plan because you think it will work.”

  “You don’t think it will work?” I can’t keep track with where he’s going anymore.

  “Oh, I know it’ll work,” he says, nodding. “But it’ll probably fuck you up along the way before it works. And I just want you to be prepared. So you don’t freak out when it happens. Just...ride it out.”

  “You’re freaking me out a little right now,” I tell him, abandoning all efforts to get organized for my trip, at least for the moment. “What are you talking about, man?!”

  “I’m talking about you.” The smile fades again. “And about how much you’ve changed just in the last few days of knowing her.”

  “I haven’t changed,” I argue, but my mind is already searching my memories for evidence he could be right. Have I been different?

  “Excuse me, but I think I know you pretty damn well, and yes, you’ve changed.” He moves through the room to the chair I left my garment bag in. I notice it gets relocated to the floor only seconds before his ass replaces it in the chair. “Lachlan, in a million years, you never would have agreed to go home and fake a marriage to beat Apsel and the step-monster at their own game.”

  That proves nothing. “I’m desperate. When Greer came up with that idea, I was ready to do just about anything.”

  “No, you weren’t.” He leans back. “You were frozen stiff, caught between two impossible choices because you play by the rules and the rules weren’t giving you any other options.” He chuckles, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Face it, if anyone else would have come to you wit
h that plan, you would have shot them down and told them they were insane.”

  “It’s not that insane. She’s an actress. She plays different parts all the time. This will just be the most elaborate production she’s ever been cast in,” I reason, repeating the things Greer said to convince me in the first place.

  “I’m an actor. Hell, I teach it. You know the talent pool I have access to? I could have held auditions just with past students who already graduated.”

  I can feel my face distort itself at the mention of his students. Graduated or not, they’re just barely inching their way into adulthood and I haven’t been attracted to anyone that age since I was that age. “It’s not the same.”

  “I know.” He grins again. “Because I’m not Greer. And I don’t make you believe like she does.”

  My expression moves from disgust to bothered. “I believe in you.”

  “I know that. I’m not talking about your belief in me.” He gets up again, this time he starts for the door. “Greer makes you believe in the impossible. That’s what makes her special. To you. Because you only believe in what you can see, and she’s the first person who’s ever been able to show you the things you can’t.” His fingers drum the doorframe as he lingers in it a moment longer. “You’re both totally going to fuck this up. The trick will be taking turns.” He smirks. “But you’re a gentleman, so you’ll let her go first. And when she does...”

  “Ride it out,” I finish, referring to the insanity that started this entire conversation.

  He nods. “Ride it out.” Then he taps the doorframe twice, winks, and disappears.

  Whether or not I packed enough socks for my kid, I won’t know until I run out. Or not. Depending on how well I functioned while my brain was trying to unscramble itself after listening to my brother for too long about too many things that made too little sense.

  But, my bags are zipped and shut and buckled up and just as soon as Greer comes flying through the door, we can head downstairs to meet the driver and car already waiting to take us to the airport.

  “Should I go over there and check on her?” I ask Chase, who’s sitting on the couch, busy giving Monroe her last pony ride on his knee before we leave.

  “Only if you want her to be late,” he says without breaking his attention away from his niece. “Greer is super punctual, but she never has a second to spare. Times everything down to the last moment.”

  “Got it.” I notice Abbas watching me from across the kitchen where he’s been holding the same cup of coffee since I walked in. I have yet to see him take a drink from it. I’m starting to suspect it’s empty and he just can’t get himself to walk across the hall to get a refill. Fairly sure Chase had to bring him that cup to begin with. “You better get things sorted out with Mallory before the wedding. I’m not sending tickets for your plus ones, so you’ll have to be each other’s,” I tease.

  “I get a plus one, though. Right?” Chase calls over from the sofa. “Because I kind of already asked someone.”

  “Yes, you get a plus one,” I confirm, already curious to see who he’ll be bringing. I’m tempted to ask, but after the earful he gave me about his view on my love life, I’m not sure I can handle any insights on his own right now.

  Abbas’s mouth opens, for what purpose I’ll never know. There’s a knock at the door before he can get the words out.

  “Are you expecting someone?” I ask, directing my question at both of them, but they both look as stumped by the sound as I feel, so I don’t wait for a response. Already closest to the door, I take the last few steps until I can grasp the handle and pull it open. “Greer?”

  “Sweetheart.” She smiles. “Darling? My love? Charming?” Then she giggles, bouncing her shoulders and shaking her head as she moves past me and walks inside. “I’ll have to keep trying them out, see which one sticks by the time we land.”

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Lady Greer,” Chase greets her, hoisting Monroe onto his hip as he walks over from the living room. “You look so fancy! You know all the king’s knights are going to fight over you.” He wiggles his brows, and I don’t know if she laughs because of how he looks or what he’s said. Either way, she seems overall pleased with the response she’s getting to her new appearance.

  I have to admit, she does know what she’s doing. Every last detail fits the part. She’s traded her long, black and teal braids for natural curls that reach just above her shoulders, completely hiding the parts of her scalp which are shaved. The champagne colored, long sleeved blouse is covered in ruffles at her neckline and wrists, keeping secret every inch of ink beneath the silk and the wide leg, black trousers are every bit as boring as they sound, eliminating any shred of her personality that was previously visible in her wardrobe choices. Even her makeup is little more than tiny, natural-like hues of color and she’s removed the septum piercing from her nose. Lastly, I notice her mouth. No more signature hot pink lips in sight.

  She looks perfect. Beautiful even. But I can’t help but think that every hint of Greer has disappeared, and the thought alone brings an ache to my chest, and a single thought on a breath past my lips, “Shit.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GREER

  “What?” I could have sworn I just heard Lachlan utter a four-letter word under his breath. Considering he was eyeing me from head to toe in slow motion right before he said it, I’m not exactly feeling a boost of confidence from the reaction. “Do you not like it?”

  His brows climb unnaturally high on his forehead even as he’s obviously trying to cover his initial reaction. “No. I mean. Yes.” He clears his throat and starts over. “I definitely like how seriously you’re taking this.” His hand starts to gesture up and down along my body. “All of this, it’s perfect. Really. Beyond what I was even expecting.”

  “You weren’t expecting me to handle this like a professional?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.

  “I was,” he insists, getting increasingly flustered.

  “I’m just teasing you.” I reach out to put a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re happy with the results of my efforts. But know that if there’s anything you want me to change, anything you were expecting to be different, I am happy to try and accommodate you in whatever way I can. You’re the boss, here. For the next two months, I answer to you.”

  “Why do I feel like a part of your soul just died a little uttering those words,” Abbas jokes from where he’s standing in the kitchen, swinging a mug around so carelessly, I have to assume it’s been empty for a while.

  “Mal already left for work,” I tell him, forgoing a response to his statement. “And there’s still half a pot of coffee.”

  He doesn’t waste time with an answer. Just zips past us and out into the hall.

  “Speaking of leaving,” Lachlan re-enters the conversation. “We should probably get going too. I have a car waiting downstairs whenever you’re ready.” He smiles. It’s sweet and accommodating and not at all like the smiles I’ve witnessed from Lachlan in the last week. The energy around him feels different too. Lighter. Like the weight of losing Mo has finally started to lift.

  “All of my stuff is right inside my door.” I point over my shoulder and toward my own apartment. “I can get most of it, but I might need a hand with the big duffle.”

  “Chase?” Lachlan looks to his brother.

  “Sorry, I’m on baby duty.” He grins, bobbing Monroe up and down and making her giggle.

  “I’ll get Abbas to do it,” I tell them.

  “What am I doing?” Of course, Abbas shows up in the doorway the second I mention his name.

  “Helping me with my bags.” I fist a handful of his shirt and start to tug him back across the hall with me.

  “But I just made myself the perfect cup of coffee,” he whines. “It’ll be cold by the time I get all your shit downstairs and then back here to drink it.”

  “If I don’t get downstairs with all these things in time to get in the car and get to the airport and get on
my plane, I can’t go to Linden and marry a prince and you can’t come to my wedding and stay at the castle,” I remind him flatly.

  “Alright, alright,” he mumbles, slurping coffee in a hurry all the way up until the moment he has to set the cup down on the counter.

  From that moment on, things start to operate more smoothly than normal. At least, in terms of what I would deem normal for my life. Lachlan seems to think everything is business as usual, from the driver loading our luggage, to the comfy ride in the limousine, to boarding the private jet, which in hindsight, I couldn’t have missed because I was one of its three only passengers.

  “And here I was thinking how cool it would be to fly first class for the first time in my life,” I mumble, taking in the cabin of our plane and trying hard not to gape at everything in sight. “Not that I was even sure we’d do that.”

  “You thought I’d fly you back to Linden, preparing to announce you were my royal bride, in coach?” He smirks, gesturing for me to have a seat in one of the reclining leather seats near the windows.

  “That’s how everyone in my world flies anywhere.” I glide into the seat. It’s the most comfortable piece of furniture I think I’ve ever sat on. “And up until we met your driver in the street outside my building, you fit into that world too easily to make me question it.” I watch as one of the jet’s flight attendants unfolds a built-in playpen from the wall for Monroe. I’m so completely out of my league here, I may start to panic if I dwell on it too long. “I guess it does seem a little silly though, now that my perspective of your life is broadening a bit.”

  He shakes his head. “Not silly.” He places Mo inside the secured play area and then takes a seat in the cushy chair across from mine, same creamy colored, smooth leather as the one I’m sitting in. “Kind of great, to tell you the truth.” He takes a cup of coffee offered by the attendant and thanks her. I notice her eyes stay glued to him even as she hands me a cup as well. Alexa, I think she said her names was. Blonde and blue-eyed and every bit as perky and beautiful as you’d expect the flight attendant on a private jet belonging to a handsome young prince to be. Provided you’d take the time to imagine such scenarios, which I never have. But moving forward I most certainly will. I’m not keen on walking into any more surprises like this.