Fairy Tale Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories

by Lisa Scott

  He said nothing.

  “I can google you just as easy as you can google me.” So that was a bit of a lie, but she didn’t want to get the staff in trouble.

  “Fair enough.”

  “And you did say we should get this out in the open.”

  He chuckled. “Indeed, I did. You’re bolder than your internet search indicated.”

  “Trust me, Prince Maxim, I didn’t come to gawk at you. I came to meet the man who has a collection of antique inkwells from the desk of the most famous people in history. Who rescues Irish Wolf Hounds. And who builds an elaborate library he’ll never set foot in just so his books have a place to call home.”

  “Precious things deserve beautiful surroundings. That’s why I insisted on decorating the dining room tonight. For you.”

  Her blush must’ve been visible even in the dark room.

  He walked past her to his seat at the end of the table. He wore a hooded cloak that hung well over his forehead. She doubted she’d be able to see his face even with all the lights on in the room. But if the candlelight made him more comfortable, she was glad.

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I asked Courtney to make a few different entrees.”

  “As long as it’s not sushi, we’re good.” She hoped she sounded calmer than she felt.

  “How is your father?” He picked up his wine glass, swirling the liquid.

  She smoothed her hand across the tablecloth. “The same. But he’ll get better. I know it.”

  The prince nodded. “You’re a good worker, just like him. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting the same quality from….” He let the thought hang there, but she knew what he meant.

  “From a woman. I know.”

  “No, I meant from someone so young. It takes a while to achieve the skill you’ve mastered.”

  “I’m sorry. I just assumed you meant because I’m a woman.” She cleared her throat. “I’m a bit defensive. My ex-boyfriend left me because he was embarrassed by what I do.”

  “Then your ex was a fool twice over—for leaving you, and for his reasoning. What you do is art.”

  Her heart swelled. That’s what she’d always told her ex. She did consider herself to be an artist. “I’ve been working at my daddy’s knee since I can remember.”

  “I’m lucky to have you here. And I’m sorry you lost your mother.”

  It was so long ago, she couldn’t even remember her face without looking at a picture. “How did you know?”

  He paused for a moment. “I asked Nicholas to tell me everything he knew about you.”

  “Even the time I got grounded for smuggling a family of baby raccoons in my room when I was ten?”

  “He left that part out. Nicholas!” he called. “You’re fired.” He laughed, a wonderful, confident laugh.

  “Then maybe you also know I’ve been trying my hardest to sound formal and polished, but that just isn’t me.”

  “Just be yourself, Belle. I like you.”

  “As long as you’re being yourself, we’ve got a deal.”

  “Good.”

  Dinner was soon served, and their conversation flowed naturally, but she kept her gaze averted for much of it, hoping she wouldn’t lose the easy rapport they’d fallen into. But she couldn’t help wondering how the evening would end. Things were fine so long as they were ten feet apart. Would they get any closer than that?

  But after dessert was served and their coffees were drained, the prince rose from his seat, and tugged his cloak down over his forehead. “Close your eyes,” he commanded.

  Of course, she looked at him and blinked instead. “Why?”

  He laughed softly. “You’re the first woman to question everything I do. It’s different. Will you just trust me and close them?”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes and heard him walking toward her. Then he lifted her hand, pressed his lips against her palm and said, “Goodnight, my artist.”

  She shivered. “Are you ever going to feel comfortable letting me see you?”

  “I hope so.”

  ***

  It went better than he could have hoped for. Belle was funny and kind, challenging and intriguing—qualities he couldn’t have gleaned from Nicholas’ search. It would’ve been so much easier if she’d been a doting bore, because he didn’t know what to do with this feeling echoing inside him; familiar and strange at the same time.

  But having dinner in a darkened dining room was one thing. What was next for them? What could a man—voluntarily confined to his chambers—offer a bright, curious, beautiful woman?

  He ran his fingers over his face. Was he remembering his scars to be worse than they really were? The rough edges of the damage felt like an old puzzle he hadn’t attempted to put together in a long time. Right after the accident when he was sent home and the searing pain had disappeared, he couldn’t keep his hands off his face; touching it again and again to prove to himself this had really happened.

  He had to see for himself. He hadn’t looked at his own face in two years. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. He was building it up in his mind, that was it. The only mirror in his room that wasn’t covered in black paint was tucked in a trunk in the back of his closet. Rifling through shoes and clothes and boxes of unopened liquor, he pulled the trunk out and took a deep breath.

  He brought the mirror close to his face, so he could only see his eyes. Fortunately, his vision had been spared, although the scarring did pull open his left eye ever so slightly so that half his face looked perpetually surprised. The left side of his face from the cheekbone down had suffered most of the damage. He pulled the mirror slowly away, revealing the smooth, raised scar in a shape almost perfectly circular on his cheek. Then it traveled down to his chin, pulling half his mouth down in a permanent grimace.

  No, it wasn’t as bad as he remembered; it was worse. He threw the mirror across the room and opened the bottle of scotch sitting on his desk. He’d been a fool thinking Belle could ever be interested in him.

  Vivian was probably laughing from above.

  Scratch that. She was laughing from the depths of hell.

  ***

  Three days later, Belle couldn’t shake the disappointment that the prince hadn’t come to see her again while she worked. And she was really hoping he would have arranged another private dinner. Perhaps he’d only been kind, pretending to be interested in their conversation. Perhaps she’d been too bold. Or maybe too boring. She sighed as she sanded a piece of trim.

  She hadn’t told her father about the prince’s behavior during her trips to the hospital. She’d visited her father twice since she’d moved into the prince’s apartment. Her father’s condition hadn’t worsened, but it hadn’t improved either.

  She was finishing another bookcase when she heard a voice in the hall. “You’re making quicker progress than I’d imagined. I hope you’re not in a hurry to leave.” It was Maxim.

  Her heart tightened. “I thought you’d be pleased I’m efficient.”

  “I’ll have to come up with a few more projects for you.”

  She nailed the piece of trim in place, aware he was watching her every move. “What else do you have in mind?”

  “You tell me. What would you do if this were your home?”

  She sat back, still without looking in his direction. “If this were my home, I’d want a big workshop to use for my furniture making business. I’d revamp the ballroom and throw wild parties that left all the neighbors gossiping, and I’d be sure the banister was strong enough so I could slide down it each morning instead of taking the stairs.” She felt herself blushing and looked down at her hands, still clenching the hammer. “Of course, that’s quite a bit different from what you want, I’m sure.”

  “I’m sure you can understand why I’m not one to throw parties.”

  She sighed. It might cost her her job, but she was just going to come out and say it. “Maxim, you are a funny, kind, generous man. Do you really think I or anyone else would think any differently after se
eing the scars on your face?”

  He didn’t scream or order her out. No, it was worse; he said nothing.

  She softened her voice and set down her hammer. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Trust is a hard thing to keep after what happened to me, Belle.”

  “Then she’s going to punish you from her grave forever. Maxim, I like you. I’d like to get to know you better. But if you’re not willing to take the chance, I understand. I think you and your staff and even this beautiful apartment deserve to hear laughter and joy again.”

  He said nothing for so long, she figured he’d left. But then he sighed and said, “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner again?”

  “In candlelight and shadows again?”

  “I’ll do my best, Belle. I’ll leave you to your work now.”

  ***

  Belle chose the dress she’d worn the first night she joined the staff for dinner. Surprisingly, no one had questioned her about her dinner with the prince. She headed for the dining room, hoping to find it brighter than last time, but again, only a few candles lit the space. At least he’s coming, she thought.

  She took her seat as before, but didn’t have to wait as long for him to arrive this time. “I’m not ready to abandon the security of the darkness yet, Belle. But I may have a surprise or two for you.”

  “I like surprises.”

  They chatted about their travels; his thirty-two countries, to her twelve U.S states.

  She fingered her glass of wine on the table, turning it round and round by the steam. “What about your country? Is it beautiful?”

  He leaned back in his chair, his posture becoming relaxed. “The most beautiful I’ve seen. It’s often been said my country has extraordinarily handsome men, and women who are among the most beautiful in the world. Which is why I could never return. Not like this.”

  “Your people must miss you.”

  He ignored her, and changed the topic. “What kind of furniture are you making?”

  She told him about the custom made desks she was creating, and the difficulty adding a wet bar into one that a client had ordered.

  “Now I know your next project for me. A desk with a mini-fridge and a microwave.”

  “No, I want to get you out of your room, not give you the gear to stay in there forever.”

  Nicholas came out with their entrée before Maxim could respond.

  She set down her soup spoon. “You’re not the only one to ever feel like an outcast.”

  “And you have?”

  She nodded. “As you know, my mother is dead. I was six when she died.”

  “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  “She disappeared. She was supposed to pick me up from school but never made it. Her car was found abandoned by the park. It was in the news, police searched for her for months before they found her body in the river.”

  “My Belle. That’s horrible. What happened?”

  She brushed away a tear. “They don’t know if she was killed, or if she…” She couldn’t say the words. Belle still couldn’t imagine why her mother would kill herself. Yet, she hated the thought that she’d been killed. “I like to think it must have been an accident of some kind.”

  Maxim pushed away from the table and walked over to her, kneeling beside her. She couldn’t see his face under his hooded cloak. He reached for her hand, rubbing it gently with his thumb. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. My cosmetic concerns must seem so shallow to you.”

  She shook her head. “No, they don’t. I just want you to know that I understand what it’s like to feel like an outsider. People stared and whispered about me at school for a few weeks. I was the girl whose mother had been found dead in the river. I’d never felt so alone.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “But it didn’t last forever. People forgot, or just accepted it. I could have withdrawn, knowing I was different from everyone else. But I didn’t.”

  “They never determined what happened?”

  Belle shook her head. “But I had a choice to make; live my life or be dead, like my mother. Maxim, in your own way, you are dead.”

  He slowly pulled his hand away from hers. “It’s true. In a way, I am dead. The Prince Maxim the world knew is gone.”

  “It’s time for the new Prince Maxim to start living. The one who understands people’s pain. The one who is caring and kind. Those qualities are just as attractive as a handsome face.” She squeezed his hand. “Can I see your face, Maxim?”

  He was still as he sat beside her. “It seems so foolish now, after listening to your story. You were a brave young girl, and here I am, a grown man and a coward.” He sighed, and slipped the hood off his head. Slowly, he raised his face to hers without looking at her.

  Her throat tightened when she first saw his scars. It hurt her to see the damage that had been done to him. While his head was raised to her, his eyes were cast downward. “Max, I can’t see you. Look at me.”

  Slowly, his lids raised.

  She smiled at him. “Your eyes are beautiful.” She reached her hand to touch his cheek, running her thumb across the edge of his scar. “Does it hurt?”

  “No. Not anymore. But it’s horrible, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not. It certainly looks like something happened, but it’s not shocking. It’s nothing that should keep you locked in your room for eternity.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Hey, some chicks dig scars.”

  That got a smile out of him. “But you’re kind. I’m sure strangers on the street would react like I’m a monster.”

  She shrugged. “You might get a look or two. But so what?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Coming downstairs to meet you was a big enough step for now. I don’t know if I can do more than that.”

  “I hope you can someday. I like being here with you. But I’m not willing to be locked away. Not even with prince charming.” She winked at him.

  But clearly he wasn’t feeling playful, because his hand slipped off her arm. “Then I’ll always remember this time with you. Because my bravery, if I ever had any, has disappeared, along with my looks. You don’t know what it feels like to be me.” He stood up and stepped back from her.

  She looked up at him. “But I do know what it feels like to be different from everyone.”

  He reached his hand out to her. “Come with me. There’s something we need to do.”

  She cocked her head; surely he wasn’t suggesting that. Although, it probably had been a while for him.

  He seemed to know what she was thinking. “It’s positively innocent, although Reginald probably won’t approve.”

  “Well, if Reginald won’t approve, I’m in.” Standing up, she followed him, intrigued. He led her down the hall and up the stairs. “I thought you said this was innocent?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “It is.” He patted the banister. “I had Nicholas try it out earlier. If it can support him, it can support you.”

  She stared at him.

  “You did say you’d slide down the banister if this was your place, didn’t you?”

  She laughed. “I did. I used to slide down the banister at my grandmother’s house when I was little.” She hesitated, eyeing it up.

  “I imagine it’s like riding a bike—you never forget how. Give it a go.”

  Taking a deep breath, she hiked up her dress, grasped the railing, and threw her leg over it. She loosened her grip and slid down the smooth, curving wood. She shrieked as she headed for the bottom.

  The prince raced down the stairs and caught her at the bottom, his fingers wrapping round her waist as he lowered her to the ground. Turning her around, he brought her closer, and quickly swiped his lips across hers. He pulled back, as if waiting for her reaction. Smiling, she leaned in and met his mouth with hers.

  His trembling hands cupped her face and he kissed her passionately. She gripped his shoulders, never wanting the moment to end.

  A sigh slipped from her lips when h
e broke their kiss. “Was it everything you hoped for?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “The ride down the banister was nice, too.” She rested her head on his shoulder, then looked up at him. “While we’re on the topic of granting my wishes, it’d be great to take a walk in the park.”

  She was still in his arms, but he let go and stepped back.

  “Goodnight, Belle. I’m grateful you don’t see the beast that peers back at me from my mirror. But I fear you’re the only one able to see past it.”

  ***

  The next morning as she returned to her work, she peered into the hall, straining to hear any sound that the prince was coming to her. Perhaps she had been too forward with him, too careless with her words. She’d pushed too hard and too fast.

  She heard someone coming and whirled around to face the door. Her shoulders slumped when she saw it was Nicholas. Then her heart kicked up a notch when she saw he was frowning.

  “What is it?”

  “Belle, the hospital’s been calling you. Your father … he’s taken a turn for the worse. Come. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  ***

  She ran down the hall to his room. This can’t be happening. She turned into his room and started shaking. Somehow, her father seemed smaller and weaker since she’d seen him two days ago. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Daddy, no!”

  She knelt next to his bed, reached for his hand and started to pray.

  When the doctor finally came in, he told her his vital signs were weak but stable. “The next twenty-four hours should tell us more. He’s either going to pull through this, or decline. It wouldn’t be long after that.”

  She fought back a sob and nodded as the doctor left the room. Working for the prince had been for nothing. She should have been here with her father instead of worrying about saving his job. She’d been so certain he’d pull through. Why had it never occurred to her he wouldn’t? Had she let herself become so enamored with Maxim, she’d forgotten the real reason she was there in the first place?

  She rested her arms on the cold metal rail of her father’s bed and let the tears out.