by Amy DeLuca
While trying to protect herself and AJ from the “storm,” she’d cut herself off from other people, from her own feelings, and she was hurting her son in the process. She wasn’t modeling a healthy, connected life.
Worse, she was depriving him of a father who wanted to know him, support him, and be there for him full time.
A small hand patted Cinda’s leg as AJ, who was no doubt baffled and probably frightened by her sudden crying jag, tried to comfort her.
“It’s okay, Mommy. I’ll help you. I’m a good helper.”
She sat on the floor and drew him onto her lap, hugging him close and rocking. “You sure are, buddy. You’re the best.”
Pulling his head away from her chest, he patted Cinda’s cheeks between his palms. “Are you better now?”
She nodded, smiling through a few leftover tears. “I’m getting better, thanks to you. But there’s something I need to do. Want to go over to Kristal’s house for a visit with me?”
He jumped up, raising one extended arm over his head like a superhero. “Yes!”
“Okay, good. Go get your shoes on. I’ll grab my purse, and we can head right over.”
Alex had said he was returning to Aubernesse tomorrow, which meant she needed to speak with him tonight.
Panic struck her heart with an invigorating, icy blast as she realized what else was happening tonight—the ball—the announcement of Alex’s engagement.
The engagement she’d told him not to cancel.
She’d leaned on her best friend too much this week already, but she texted Kristal, asking if it was okay to stop by and drop AJ off for a short while.
Cinda: I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I’ll explain when I get there.
Kristal: Of course. Come on over.
Within ten minutes Cinda and AJ were in the car and headed for the Bellevue Avenue mansion Kristal and Hunter shared.
“Wow, Mommy, look at all those big black cars,” AJ said, pressing his nose to the backseat window.
“Those are limousines,” she told him. “People rent them for special occasions.”
“I want to be a lemma-zeen driver when I grow up.”
“Sounds like fun. I bet you’ll be a great driver.”
While thrilling for her four-year-old to witness, the parade of slow-moving limos was actually a bit annoying to Cinda. Now that she’d decided on a course of action, she didn’t want to wait.
Finally, they made it to Kristal’s house, ringing the bell at the back door
Within seconds, Kristal opened it, smiling. “Hi. Come in, come in.”
She bent down to do a special handshake with AJ. The two of them had developed it a few weeks ago, and he’d been making Cinda practice it with him at home. When they’d flawlessly completed all the steps, they high-fived, and AJ laughed.
“We did it!”
“That was awesome,” Kristal said. “Hey, AJ, guess what? The cook just took a batch of brownies out of the oven. Want to go into the kitchen and ask her for one?”
He turned to his mother with wide, eager eyes.
Cinda nodded, feeling guilty. “Go ahead. And be sure to say thank you.” To Kristal she said, “I haven’t even given him dinner yet. I’m not doing my best adulting today.”
Once AJ had sped away as fast as his short legs could carry him, Kristal and Cinda went into the cozy den to talk.
“Okay now, tell me what’s going on. Does this have anything to do with Alex?”
“Why do you look so hopeful?” Cinda asked.
“Well, he may have called and texted me begging for help—don’t ask how he got my number because I have no idea. He really loves you, Cin.”
“He did. But I blew it. He’s going to marry someone else.”
“I don’t think so,” Kristal said. “Not if you give him the slightest shred of hope.”
Cinda shook her head, shaking off her friend’s matchmaking optimism. “I said some pretty cold things last night when I was upset.”
“So I heard. He was definitely heartsick, but he wouldn’t have been calling me if he’d given up completely.”
“You don’t think it’s too late?” Cinda asked.
Kristal checked the clock on the mantle. “Not yet… but the ball’s started already.”
“Oh my gosh. I’ve got to go.” Cinda popped off the couch and gave Kristal a quick hug. “Thanks so much for watching AJ. I won’t be gone long.”
She turned and started to leave, but Kristal snagged the back of her shirt. Her voice was filled with amusement. “Wait a minute. You’re not planning to go over there like that, are you?”
Cinda looked down at herself. Ratty sweatpants, sneakers, and a t-shirt that sported a peanut butter smudge she hadn’t been aware of until that moment.
“Oh. Yeah.” Then she shrugged. “Well, it’s not important. I’ll ask him to come out and talk to me in the driveway or something. I don’t want to take the chance of running into his fiancée anyway.”
Kristal laughed. “Oh no. I don’t think so. I’m not letting my best friend go to a royal ball to win back her prince looking like she’s been hanging out with Oscar the Grouch in real life.”
Placing a hand on each of Cinda’s shoulders, Kristal steered her farther into the mansion, toward the staircase leading up to the master bedroom.
“Where are we going?” Cinda asked.
“To my room. You’re going to let me play Fairy Godmother for a change and dress you up. I have tons of formal dresses. I’m sure one will fit you. And you know how good I am at hair and makeup. You, my friend, are going to look like a princess tonight.”
Twenty-Four
Not Royal Material
Kristal and AJ dropped Cinda off in front of the Wessex mansion forty minutes later.
“You look pretty, Mommy,” he said with a shy smile as she got out and stood beside the car in the drive.
“Thank you, baby.”
She had to admit, Kristal had done an amazing job transforming her from workaholic middle-class mom to glamorous high-society party guest.
The dress she’d loaned Cinda was a dreamy confection of embroidered midnight blue tulle, sprinkled with Swarovski crystals. She’d added tiny, sparkling crystals to Cinda’s updo to match.
The makeup Kristal had applied was subtle, making Cinda look not “made up” but like she’d had a week’s worth of great sleep and fresh air.
“All thanks to Kristal’s magic wand,” she told AJ with a wink.
His head whipped around to look at Kristal, and he opened his mouth wide, clearly impressed. “You have a magic wand?”
Kristal and Cinda both laughed, and Kristal leaned over to the passenger side window, waving something. “Don’t forget this—your invitation.”
“You mean your invitation,” Cinda said, taking the crisp, white embossed card. “Hopefully I can pass for a Bellevue Avenue aristocrat—at least for a few minutes.”
“You’ll do better than pass. You look like you were born to it.”
Cinda rolled her eyes at Kristal’s compliment and waved goodbye to AJ as he beamed at her from the back seat. Holding up the hem of her dress, she walked up the drive to the mansion’s enormous front door.
Despite her fears of being turned away, the butler who opened it barely gave the invitation a glance.
He extended his arm in an inviting gesture. “Welcome madam. Enjoy the party.”
Nerves firing and popping all over her body, Cinda followed the sounds of orchestra music and crowd chatter through the entry hall and to the ballroom.
The room itself was gorgeous with a soaring frescoed ceiling, a carved marble fireplace, 22-karat gold wall panels, and enough floral arrangements to make her feel like she’d been dropped into a highly stylized version of the rainforest.
The invitation said the party had started at six, and it appeared to be in full swing. Dancers filled the center of the room while on the sides, people stood in small groups, chatting and drinking from crystal glasses or ea
ting from small plates.
I hope I’m not too late already.
Cinda’s eyes scanned the room, looking for Alex. With his height and blond hair, it didn’t take long to locate him.
He was among the dancers, dressed in a black tuxedo with a snowy white shirt. He was breathtaking in the formal attire, but the woman in his arms was even more so.
With upswept auburn hair and a tall, elegant figure, she was everything Cinda was not. Kristal had said she looked born to this life, but she was merely a cheap imitation.
This woman was the real deal, and it showed from her fabulous floor-length pink ballgown to her manicured nails to her flawless porcelain skin.
His fiancée. It had to be her. They were such a beautiful pair no one would argue with the rightness of their betrothal.
And she was probably a real princess. It was painful to watch Alex with another woman, watch him smile at her and take her lightly in his arms as they spun around the floor.
For a moment Cinda was tempted to turn around and flee the mansion, making sure not to leave a glass slipper behind. But then she thought of Alex’s words in his last text to her.
I will always be here… ready to love you and our son.
She wasn’t sure how he could love her, not after how she’d acted, but she made herself stay. She would find the courage to do the thing she’d sworn never to do again—trust him. Rely on his word.
The song ended, and Cinda moved in Alex’s direction.
He hadn’t spotted her yet. She was no doubt the last person he expected to see in his family’s ballroom tonight. Even if he did see her, he might not recognize her right away after Kristal’s magical transformation.
As Cinda neared the area where Alex and his fiancée stood chatting with several guests, someone stepped into her path.
He was an older man, around her stepmother Julia’s age, gray haired and mustached, and like all the other men present, wearing a tuxedo.
Getting a good look at his face, Cinda did a double-take. He had Alex’s eyes.
His cleft chin, too. He was considerably shorter than Alex, but this had to be his father.
“Mr. Wessex?” she asked, then quickly corrected herself. “I mean, Your Highness.”
The man didn’t smile but gave her a quick once-over. “I don’t believe you’re on the guest list.”
His terse remark surprised her. Did the Prince of Aubernesse really recognize every one of his American guests on sight? And then she realized he’d put emphasis on the word “you’re” when he’d said it.
He knows who I am.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been so amazed, but it simply hadn’t occurred to Cinda that Alex’s father might have had him followed this week and had his spies report back on the identities of everyone his son interacted with.
She gave him a nervous smile. It was his home after all. She had no wish to make a scene or get into an argument.
“No. I wasn’t invited. But I’ll only be here a short time. I need to speak with Alex.”
The monarch’s frown deepened. “My son is rather busy at the moment.”
He cast a glance over his shoulder to where Alex stood side-by-side with the woman his father had handpicked for him. Turning back to Cinda, the prince offered a shallow closed-lip smile.
“Perhaps tomorrow.”
“Sir—I mean, Your Highness—I know he’s leaving the country tomorrow. Please, I only need a minute of his time.”
She started to move around the man, determined to speak to Alex, when the elder Wessex grabbed her wrist in a firm grip.
Speaking quietly, he said, “You don’t belong here. You’re not royal material. You never were—and neither is your bastard child.”
Cinda stopped in mid-motion, her insides freezing solid. She could barely gather enough breath to form words.
“What did you say?”
“I stopped you from entrapping my son years ago. Don’t think I can’t stop you now.”
Cinda reeled, her head spinning. Alex was right. His father had found out about them years ago—and taken steps to keep them apart.
He’d hidden the truth from Alex all these years.
He lifted an arm and gestured to someone. A large man in a dark suit and dark shirt started coming toward them from across the room. Cinda was too flabbergasted by Mr. Wessex’s words to even worry about the bodyguard.
“You knew about me and Alex. You knew he had a child, and you never told him?”
“Who can say who fathered the boy?” the man sneered. “My son and I had words about it today. He’s honorable—and gullible—enough that he’s willing to accept your word without even demanding proof. I am not so trusting. I will protect my family, no matter what it takes.”
Shock prevented Cinda from responding. What kind of a monster would force his son to abandon his grandson? If proof was actually what he’d wanted, it would have been easy to obtain.
But that wasn’t what this man wanted.
He wanted Alex to go through with an arranged marriage that would be beneficial to his country, to give up his own needs and desires in favor of duty.
Anger burned in Cinda’s gut. It was one thing to ask Alex to do all this with full knowledge of his options. It was another to lie to him and manipulate him.
She’d seen plenty of that kind of behavior from her stepmother, first with her father and then with Cinda herself.
In fact, it wouldn’t surprise her to learn Julia had conspired with Alex’s father to keep them apart years ago.
“If you were really concerned with his well-being, you wouldn’t have let Alex believe a lie all these years,” she said. “You would have let him make his own choices, find his own happiness. What you did wasn’t protection. It was manipulation. The only thing you’re interested in protecting is your own interest. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Cinda tried to push past him. Alex appeared to be moving toward an exit on the other side of the room, and she had to reach him before he left. This might be her last chance to speak with him before he announced his engagement. But as she stepped around the prince, the bodyguard arrived.
“Get rid of her, Frederick,” Alex’s father muttered.
“Come with me please,” the hired muscle said politely. But his grip on her upper arms wasn’t polite—it was painful.
Holding her from behind, he began steering Cinda from the ballroom, moving so quickly she was tripping over the hem of her gown trying to keep up.
“Let me go.” She tried wrenching away from his grip, but the brute’s hands were like iron bands. “Please—you’re hurting me.”
A new voice entered the conversation—loud and clear and familiar.
“Frederick. What the devil is going on here?” Alex demanded from somewhere behind Cinda. “Stop this instant. What is happening?”
The bodyguard obeyed, stopping and turning around to face Alex, which meant she was dragged around to face him as well.
Alex’s eyes bulged as he recognized her.
“Cinda—I thought I heard your voice.”
Twenty-Five
Root of the Problem
When he’d noticed his father’s bodyguard dragging someone from the ballroom, Alex’s first thought had been a paparazzi had snuck in.
Certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.
Even when he’d spotted the flash of blue tulle flapping around Frederick’s legs, he wasn’t overly concerned.
There were female paparazzi, and Alex wouldn’t put it past one to try to blend in and disguise herself as a guest in order to get candid photographs of the celebrities and royals in attendance tonight.
But then he’d heard the woman’s voice, and he’d literally sprinted across the room to confirm the impossible—Cinda was there.
She looked incredible in an elegant dark blue gown, her hair up and studded with sparkling jewels. But it wasn’t her appearance that shocked him.
It was the fact that she was there at all. And that she
was apparently being thrown out.
Alex stepped forward, reaching for her hand and drawing her away from Frederick.
“What exactly is the meaning of this?”
The bodyguard’s heavy brow lowered. “You know her? Your father told me to remove her.”
“My father?”
Alex scanned the ballroom, trying to locate him. He was headed their way, along with his mother, sister, and brother, who’d just arrived, looking a bit rough around the edges as if he’d started the party elsewhere and barely made it there in one piece.
Lowering his head to speak to Cinda, Alex asked, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She rubbed her bicep. “Not really. I’m fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to cause a scene. I only wanted to talk to you. I needed to see you before you left tomorrow, to tell you that I was wrong, that I’m sorry for pushing you away… that I don’t want you to marry Audrey.”
Alex’s heart soared with instantaneous joy. The prayers that had filled his sleepless hours last night had apparently been heard. But there were things to be addressed before they could celebrate.
“You didn’t cause a scene,” he assured Cinda. “My father did. Here, sit down.”
Keeping his arm around her, Alex led Cinda to an ornate padded bench in the mansion’s entry hall.
“We’ve a lot to discuss, but first I have to deal with the root of the problem. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
Then he spun around to face his arriving family, feeling like smoke was literally pouring from his ears.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “The mother of my child comes to speak with me, and you treat her like a criminal?”
“Your child?” Cam’s eyes popped wide, and he staggered back a bit. “Wow. A guy goes out on the town one night, and he misses everything.”
Jane’s red curls slid over one shoulder as she dropped her chin to pin Cam with a sardonic stare.
“You go out every night. And sleep all day. If you’d taken any notice of what’s been going on around here today, you’d have seen the deRamels storming out in a blaze of fury and know that Alex called off the wedding with Audrey.”