by Amy DeLuca
In his peripheral vision, he saw someone approaching, most likely his waiter—Kristal’s old fanboy Robbie—returning with his credit card.
But instead of the sullen male voice he expected, he heard a woman say, “No six-thousand-dollar bottle of wine this evening? You’re not getting cheap on me now, are you?”
Hunter sucked in a sharp lungful of air as Kristal slid into the chair across from him.
“Hi,” she said with a mischievous smile.
Somehow managing to choke on nothing but air, Hunter coughed a couple of times and finally responded with a ragged, “Kristal. What a surprise.”
She smiled and nodded to his empty dinner plate. “How was it? Let me guess, you got the… brisket burger.”
“Yes. It was… good... good.”
Hunter’s brain unfroze and began to wrap itself around the fact that Kristal was actually there, in person, talking to him and not a hallucination conjured by the sheer force of his need for her.
Why wasn’t she in Atlanta? What was she doing in Newport? Belatedly, he realized what was going on.
“You must be in town to resolve the trust fund situation. I heard you were getting most of the money back. Congratulations. I’m glad it worked out.”
“Thanks.” She shrugged. “Margot is down a yacht, and Harry won’t be practicing law again anytime soon, but I’m glad that Mom and Dad’s hard-earned money is back in the bank where it belongs.”
“You won’t be using the fund to live on?”
Kristal grinned, and Hunter’s heart tore in half from the utter beauty of that smile. He’d missed seeing it more than he’d even thought possible. And she was wearing red lipstick to match her red sundress.
Somebody just shoot me. Please.
“I don’t need to. I have a job now. I will use some of it when I find the right house to buy. I’m thinking of a cottage—nothing fancy. I don’t need much.”
Hunter nodded, not surprised at all to hear that she didn’t plan on buying a mansion. She’d always told him she didn’t need all the trappings of wealth to be happy. He’d been such an idiot to try to impress her with his. And she’d mentioned the price of real estate was much lower down south.
“How’s Atlanta?”
“It’s great—for some people,” she said. “I’ve discovered I’m more of a New England girl though.”
Hunter’s heart gave a hard thump. “You’re not going to stay in Atlanta?”
“Actually, I’ve already left. The city and the people are awesome, and you can’t go wrong with that warm weather. But I gave notice at my job weeks ago. All my stuff is in storage. I just got back to Newport today. I’m staying with Cinda again until I can find the right place to buy.”
The hard thump was followed by another then a smattering of frantic beats. Hunter fought to keep his voice sounding normal, though he was struggling for breath.
“Oh really? You’re moving back to Newport?”
Another dazzling smile. “Yeah, you know, I don’t want to miss my favorite season.”
“But… winter is months away.”
“I’m not talking about winter—I’m talking about wedding season.”
Kristal gave him a significant look.
What was going on here? Hunter’s mind buzzed with confusion. Maybe Robbie had poisoned his burger, and he really was imagining this whole encounter.
“You’re going to be a wedding photographer?” he asked, struggling to make sense of the absurd.
“No silly.” She laughed. “I’m talking about our wedding.”
“Our wedding?” Yep. Definitely hallucinating.
Hunter took in a deep breath, looked around, and spotted Robbie walking toward him with the leather folder containing his card and receipt.
“Kristal!” Robbie exclaimed when he saw her and rushed over to give her a hug. “It’s great to see you. You coming back? I need someone to cover my shifts this weekend,” he teased.
She laughed. “Afraid not. I’m going to be working at my mom’s art guild again. I took a job as the director—this time with pay.”
“That’s great. I’m so happy you’ll be back in Newport. We’ll have to get together and catch up. Soon.”
To Hunter, he said, “Thanks for dining at Castle Hill Inn. Will there be anything else?”
If Hunter hadn’t been so discombobulated, he might have laughed at the obvious disdain in the other man’s voice. As it was, he could barely manage a quiet, “No, thank you.”
After the waiter left, Kristal sat back down. “Maybe I should have thought out my proposal location a little better. I just wanted to see you the minute I got back into town, and Hap told me you were here.”
She looked down at her dress. “Also, this outfit isn’t exactly suited to get down on one knee… but I’ll do it if that’s what it takes.”
Proposal? So, he hadn’t misheard her or hallucinated. What was she doing?
Hadn’t she understood a word of what he’d been trying to tell her over the phone last month?
Confusion mixed with unwilling excitement inside him. He wanted to grab her and pull her close—he also wanted to get up from the table and run out the door in a last-ditch effort to save them both.
“Kristal… I told you… I can’t be with you. I’m no good for you.”
“You’re wrong,” she said pertly. “You see, when you were telling me about your supposed neediness and how it made you all wrong for me, you forgot about something very important.”
“What?”
“I need you too. Yes, I’m financially stable now, and I don’t need your money or a free place to live, but I never needed any of that. I do need you. I need you to love me—and spend the rest of your life letting me love you.”
Hunter’s heart ached. His eyes filled with tears he was powerless to control. He shook his head, still fighting it.
“I can’t. You know I—”
Kristal reached across the table and took his hands. “I wasn’t finished yet, Mr. Bigshot Billionaire CEO. I don’t just need you. I want you—more than anything I’ve ever wanted. I want your big ego and all your insecurities, your brilliance and the foolish ideas you’ve allowed to take root in that head of yours, your beauty—and the bits of ugliness that you carry around inside like every person who’s ever lived. I want your family, your messy past. I want your future. Hunter, I want all of you. Forever. And I want to give myself to you. If you’ll have me.”
When he didn’t answer immediately, Kristal stood and came to stand in front of his chair, gathering the skirts of her sundress in her hands in apparent preparation to kneel.
Hunter stopped her, wrapping his hands around her waist and standing.
Their bodies were very close, her upturned face just beneath his, the red heart-shaped lips parted in anticipation of his answer. He asked a question instead.
“Do you know how much I missed you?” he whispered.
Her smile was accompanied by tears. “How much?”
“Enough to give you what you’re asking for… no matter how terrified I am it’s a mistake.”
“You know… being scared is not a bad thing,” she told him.
“It isn’t?”
Kristal shook her head and grinned. “It’ll make for a great damsel-in-distress moment. Where’s a camera when you need one?”
Hunter laughed and blinked, trying to hold back the tears that insisted on spilling down his cheeks anyway.
“I love you so much. I can’t believe you came back to me. And I, for one, am happy there are no cameras around. So no one can tell me to cut-scene when I do this.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and took it in a kiss worthy of Prince Charming.
All that was lacking was the fairytale wedding.
Thirty
The Fairytale Wedding
Five months later
Kristal stood beside Cinda in the opulent ballroom of Rosecliff mansion, watching reception guests dance to an upbeat tune played by the live band o
n stage.
The French doors that lined the ballroom stood open to allow in the cool September night air and the welcome ocean breeze.
Having danced for an hour straight herself and feeling the pinch of her blue satin pumps and the restriction of her white strapless gown’s snug bodice, Kristal was taking a break. It would be only slow dances for her the rest of the night.
In front of the two women, just on the edge of the dancefloor, AJ boogied in his tiny tux.
“Look at me Kristhal. Look at me Mommy. I’m a dancer.”
“Yes, you are, and you did a great job as ring-bearer, so you deserve to celebrate,” Kristal said.
“Those are some fancy moves there, buddy,” his mother said. “You’re awesome.”
Encouraged, AJ spun and jumped, pumping his little arms to the beat and making both of his admirers laugh.
An attractive man Kristal didn’t recognize approached them, congratulating her on her marriage then asking Cinda to dance.
“Oh, no thank you,” she said. “I’m afraid all my dances tonight are promised to this handsome gentleman.”
She gestured to AJ, who ran over and wrapped his short arms around her knees possessively. Smiling at the stranger, Cinda said, “Enjoy the party.”
The man nodded and gave her a tight-lipped smile before leaving, obviously disappointed. Kristal couldn’t blame him for his interest.
Men had been staring at Cinda all night. She looked gorgeous in the frothy pink designer gown that served as her maid of honor dress.
Her blonde hair was up in a chignon, and she wore a pair of Kristal’s diamond earrings that sparkled like stars in the romantic low lighting of the antique crystal chandeliers and wall sconces.
“You’re a great mom,” Kristal said to her when AJ had gone back to the dance floor and resumed his performance. “But you can’t let that be your whole life.”
“I also run a company,” Cinda reminded her.
“Right. I know. And you do it incredibly well. I’m just saying, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to say ‘yes’ to some fun once in a while… like when a handsome man asks you to dance, or to dinner, or to lunch. You’re the most loving person I’ve ever met. You should let someone love you too.”
Cinda’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the notion. “I already had love—with Alex. Look where that got me.”
Kristal looked around. “I don’t know… things aren’t so bad. You have an amazing kid. You’re at a ball in a glamourous mansion, looking like a princess. All you need is a crown.”
Cinda laughed. “Ha. As if. I do wish my mom could have been here to see this night. She would have been in her glory. She loved you. And you know how she loved fairy tales. But I’m more like the “before” picture of Cinderella than a princess. Speaking of… where are my stepmother and my stepsisters?”
Kristal and Cinda had bonded in high school over their respective “wicked” stepmothers.
Kristal’s was doing time now in a low security prison, but Cinda’s stepmother, Julia, had made sure to finagle an invitation for herself and her two biological daughters to the reception, convinced it would be the perfect place to find “quality” matches for them, which everyone involved knew was code for “rich husbands.”
“I haven’t seen them in the past hour or so,” Kristal said, a smile growing on her face. “But I do see a handsome prince heading this way.”
Hunter reached them and presented Kristal and Cinda each with a glass of champagne.
“Had enough dancing?” he asked his bride.
“I haven’t, but my feet have. I think I need to rest for a while.”
A mischievous gleam entered those entrancing turquoise eyes. “You know, I think I might know the perfect place. Have you ever toured the second level of this mansion?”
Lowering his voice, he said, “There are some very dark, very private rooms upstairs, just right for resting—or stealing a kiss.”
Cinda laughed and took AJ’s hand and started leading her son away. “I think we’ll go check out the dessert table. Want a piece of cake, AJ?”
With a hand on the small of her back, Hunter urged Kristal to walk with him toward the staircase to the second floor.
“Wait—you weren’t serious,” she said, blushing instantly as her pulse picked up speed.
“As a heart attack. I’m afraid one little kiss isn’t going to do it for me tonight. And that one had an audience. I’m ready for a few minutes alone with my beautiful wife.”
Laughing nervously, Kristal looked around. “But all our guests… what if someone sees us going upstairs? What will we tell them?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Hunter reassured her. “I’ll come up with a little white lie to cover it. I’m pretty good at that, you know.”
Epilogue
Alex
Alexander Wessex looked out the tall, domed window at the expansive grounds of the royal palace in Aubernesse.
Elaborately uniformed soldiers changed places in an age-old ritual that was very nearly a dance as delighted tourists watched and snapped photos on their phones.
Beyond the tall, iron gates, morning traffic snaked through the tree-lined streets of the European mountainside city-state, people on their way to work or school or one of the many pursuits open to the principality’s citizens.
To those who were free to live their own lives.
Behind Alex, his mother set down her china teacup in its saucer. His father turned the page of the crisply ironed newspaper he still insisted on reading every morning, though Alex had tried repeatedly to convince him to use the tablet he’d bought for the monarch’s last birthday.
“But you used to love Newport when you were younger. Why won’t you ever go with us anymore?” Mum asked him.
Alex sighed and turned to face his parents. “Because I’m not a child anymore. I have my own life. I don’t have time to traipse off to America every summer.”
“You’re not that busy,” his father said, his face still obscured behind the papers. “You make time to fly in that plane of yours. You spend more time in the air than you do on affairs of the state. You need to start learning the ropes so you’re ready when I step down.”
“You’ll step down when pigs fly, and we both know it.”
That got a chuckle from his dad, and Alex stepped over to lay a hand on his mother’s shoulder, seeking to soothe her feelings as well.
“I know you love Newport, and we did have some good times there, but what would I do if I went along? Hang out at Bailey’s Beach every day? Eat fish and chips at Flo’s Clam Shack? I don’t play polo anymore since I hurt my knee in that cricket game. I’ve outgrown it. There’s nothing there for me anymore.”
Alex didn’t mention the real reason he’d avoided returning to Newport, Rhode Island for the past five years—his heart couldn’t take it. Too many memories.
“The America’s Cup sailing race will be there,” his dad pointed out. “The race has only taken place in Newport twice in the past thirty-seven years. Wouldn’t it be smashing to watch the racers from our lawn? We could make an occasion of it.”
“A party,” his mother exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her. “Yes. Audrey’s parents have been pressing us to make an announcement. And I’ve told her mother all about Newport—she’s dying to see it, and fall is the ideal time. This will be perfect—we’ll invite them to stay at the mansion, have a viewing party for the sailing race…”
Her expression became more and more animated as she went on. “And a ball!”
She clapped in glee. “Oh lovely. It’s been ages since we had a ball at our cottage there. We’ll present you and Audrey at the ball, announce your engagement then. Since your sister is right near there at university in Boston, she’ll be able to attend. Perhaps your globe-trotting brother might even deign to make an appearance if he knows it’s a special occasion.”
Alex heaved a sigh, sensing a resounding defeat coming his way. He should have left the room the sec
ond they started discussing their annual Newport trek.
But… the announcement had to be made eventually. Maybe this was the right time.
They could get it over with, and really, what did it matter where they did it? The whole thing was for the parents anyway.
“What day does the race start?” he asked his father, trying to drum up some enthusiasm for at least that part of the plans.
America’s Cup racing was the premier event in yachting, after all, the oldest trophy in international sport.
His Royal Highness, Henry Wessex, Prince of Aubernesse, held out the newspaper, and Alex took it, skimming the article about the America’s Cup then absentmindedly thumbing through the other pages.
On the sixth page, which typically featured celebrities and society happenings, a headline caught his eye.
Billionaire Tech Mogul Weds in Newport
Huh. Two stories about Newport, Rhode Island in one day? The “City by the Sea” was coming up in the world.
Apparently, the founder of Chipp had wed a Newport socialite in a fabulous ceremony at the Rosecliff mansion.
Alex remembered the place well. It was just down the street from his family’s estate. A large photo of the wedding party accompanied the article.
This guy really must be rich.
There was the groom, Hunter Bestia, his wife, a pretty brunette named Kristal Bianco, the best man, who looked so much like the groom it had to be his brother, and a small boy, the ring bearer.
The woman beside the bride was especially eye-catching, and Alex squinted at the photo, trying to get a better look. She was short and blonde, and her face was beautiful.
He knew that face.
An explosion rocked his heart. The trembling of his fingers fluttered the pages, so he walked away from the table where his parents sat, seeking privacy.
Crossing the morning room, he settled on a small, uncomfortable sofa that had been intended, hundreds of years in the past, to accommodate two people. Alex’s large frame took up nearly the whole thing.