A Royal Heartbreak

by Marian Tee

  But he was different now. Misty had changed him, weakening him in some aspects but greatly strengthening him in others. Unfortunately, it also blinded him, his normally vigilant ability to sense ulterior motives in other people not as accurate as before. Misty’s kindness had melted the cynicism he had once worn as a cloak. It made him more approachable---and more vulnerable, too.

  And the girl before him, appearing like a shy little thing, knew it. The great Domenico Moretti was not so great anymore. He was ripe for the taking, and she definitely wanted him. For years, she had hungered for his touch from afar, envious of all the stories about how he was this magnificent stallion in bed, rutting nonstop until a woman had to beg off with the orgasms he could give her.

  Domenico was completely unaware of the violent, lust-filled thoughts of the girl. He gave her a brief smile of thanks, gesturing for her to precede him. He saw Ivory’s eyes widen, obviously surprised at the honor. She hurried inside.

  “Mistress Magenta chose this chamber as it is closest to the courtyard, where our soldiers train. Across this is the Main Hall, where those belonging to the High Circle reside.”

  “And Misty?”

  “She lives next to Sir Milo. I can accompany you…” Her face fell when he shook his head.

  “I do not want to inconvenience you further. But if you would give me directions instead?”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  He listened carefully and nodded his thanks afterwards.

  “Would it be all right if I come back in an hour to take you to the dining hall, Your Highness? A ball is being held in your honor.”

  He was badly tempted to refuse the honor. The last ball he had attended had ruined his life. “It would be my pleasure,” he finally said, uttering the lie with ease. Domenico paused, a thought occurring to him when he remembered the old-fashioned attire that the man next to Misty had been wearing.

  He asked uneasily, “How do you dress for a ball in your realm, Ivory? Shall I have to request for clothing similar to Lysander’s?”

  She surprised him by giggling. “Oh, no, that is unnecessary. Most of the elder members of the High Circle dress like that, but Sir Lysander is the only one from the younger set who takes after tradition. His family line is one of the oldest in our race.” Her smile faded. “He is also the last one of the Allards.”

  Domenico understood the rest of what she hadn’t said. No non-human was unaware of the Great War that had nearly sent the Faeries to extinction. “I am sorry to hear that.”

  Ivory bowed her head. “Sir Lysander is a hero among our kind despite his age, Your Highness. As he has no kin left, he has devoted all his life to serving the High Circle.”

  A fucking paragon, Domenico thought. He had a fucking paragon as his rival. This just kept getting better and better.

  Ivory curtsied, drawing his attention back to her. “In an hour then, Your Highness?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He turned his back on the girl, his mind already focusing on Misty and the unknown man standing in his way. As he did, he completely missed the malicious gleam in the girl’s eyes.

  It has started, Master, Ivory whispered the words in her mind.

  A smooth, ageless voice answered. And so it has. You may proceed as planned.

  ~~~

  “Your prince is a truly beautiful man,” Lysander murmured in aside as they watched Domenico stride into the dining hall, dressed completely in black. Even the couples on the dance floor stopped to stare at him as he walked past. His commanding and innately sexual presence, combined with the power he kept on a careful leash, had almost every woman in the room swallowing at the way desire licked their skins at the mere sight of him.

  Misty swallowed herself even though she hadn’t yet raised her gaze again to see where Domenico was. It was just impossible to be indifferent to Domenico when he went all out like this. Usually, Domenico kept his Lyccan side under wraps, preferring to use his billionaire persona to intimidate people. But tonight it was as if he wanted to be stared at, and Misty felt like he was challenging her – daring her not to look at him.

  I’m not going to look, she told herself. She had already realized the seats across them were reserved for the two. She would look at them then but not now, not when she still had a choice to pretend Domenico wasn’t back to wreck her life all over again.

  “Your prince is approaching.”

  “He’s not my prince,” Misty mumbled, busying herself by stuffing her mouth with salad.

  “What do you like most about him?” Lysander sounded only mildly curious.

  She turned to him with a frown, but before she could answer Lysander asked, “His cock perhaps?”

  Lysander never had a chance after that.

  It was like the most embarrassing sense of déjà vu to feel herself choking in surprise at what Lysander had said before spewing the half-chewed Romaine lettuce and mango strips on his dress shirt, which was yet another fascinating silky creation that only he could pull off.

  “Shick. Shick. I’m so sorry!” Even as she wished she could die on the spot, Misty was already dusting away with her napkin the mess she had created.

  Lysander was still in a relative state of shock. He had never had someone practically throw up on him. And the fact that Misty was not even drunk – he didn’t know if he wanted to wince or laugh.

  “I suppose this is how you made your prince fall in love?” He gingerly brushed away one last nibbled strip of cucumber away from his shirt.

  Misty couldn’t help snickering at that, but the sound of amusement died when a hurtfully familiar voice called her name.

  “Misty.” Domenico was devastating in his all-black attire, and intense heat in his gaze as he looked at her made Misty want to swallow again.

  But then she noticed he was not alone, and her heart cracked at the sight of the younger woman with her arm curled around Domenico’s. The girl was beautiful. She curtsied so deeply Misty knew every man’s gaze would be drawn to her décolletage.

  Domenico was about to speak, but someone approached him then, taking his attention away, leaving Misty and Lysander to gaze at Ivory.

  “My lady,” Ivory said, curtsying again.

  Misty tried to keep herself from pulling the younger girl back up so that men wouldn’t be seeing 99% of her chest. She bit her lip, tempted to scold her because the younger girl reminded her somewhat of Kelly.

  “My name is Ivory---”

  This time Misty had the silliest urge to…cry. Ivory. Even the girl’s name was so very feminine! How could something misty – something practically invisible – compare to ivory? The world was so not fair!

  A snide voice told her that she wasn’t supposed to care since she and Domenico were no longer together, but Misty stubbornly ignored it.

  “---and I was assigned by the Lady Magenta to be of assistance to Prince Domenico.” Ivory twisted her head around to look at Domenico with shining eyes. She looked back at them with a sigh and curtsied for the third time.

  Misty’s jaw dropped. Oh, for the love of---

  “Lord Lysander,” Ivory murmured in a respectful tone.

  Lysander acknowledged the greeting with a nod, momentarily surprising Misty with his coldness. He was usually a lot friendlier than that.

  “Ivory. It is a pleasure.” He returned his attention to Misty right after, idly playing with the tips of her silky soft hair as he said, “You probably do not know this, but Ivory is also a part of the High Circle. She may not look like it, but she is actually two years older than you are and four to mine.”

  Misty missed the way Ivory’s gaze turned cold, her lips tightening at the mention of her age.

  When Misty saw that Lysander didn’t appear as if he was joking, she turned to Ivory again, exclaiming, “You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

  “You flatter me, Your High---” Ivory gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh, but I apologize. I have forgotten that the two of you have already cut ties.” She curtsied in apology.
/>   It was so very wrong, but Misty wanted Ivory to trip this time.

  Lysander debated with himself whether or not to tell Misty about his suspicions of the Faerie woman accompanying Domenico to dinner. His spies had taken note of her unusually frequent departures from the realm, disappearing for hours without any explanation. Post-war Faeries were leery of the real world, having lived within the safety of the realm throughout their lives. That Ivory would actually leave their realm often and alone at that immediately made her suspect in his eyes.

  Misty’s fingers curled into a painful ball under the table at the thought of Domenico spending a lot of time in the girl’s company. She really was beautiful, not sensual like Lyccan women but more…well, fairy-like, a beautiful damsel who was not in distress.

  Deciding to keep his thoughts to himself for now, Lysander threaded his fingers through Misty’s hair, this time making her glance at him in surprise.

  “It’s so smooth, my pretty. What shampoo are you using?”

  He looked so serious as he asked the question Misty couldn’t help giggling, and it was the exact reaction Lysander had hoped for.

  It was also the exact moment Domenico came back to Ivory’s side. The sound of Misty’s giggle was the sweetest poison, and the sight of another man’s fingers threading through her hair was a knife in his heart.

  He pulled out a seat for his companion, took a seat himself, and looked at the other man with a polite smile. And he said very pleasantly, “I will give you three fucking seconds to stop touching her hair before I challenge you to a fight, alliance or no alliance.”

  Lysander didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but then he didn’t have to. Misty jerked away so fast from Lysander she almost knocked the person on her other side off her seat. “Sorry,” she mumbled, red-faced as she helped the older woman back to her chair.

  The older woman smiled stiffly.

  “It was my fault, I apologize,” Domenico said smoothly, giving the other woman his most charming smile. He was able to breathe easily now even though he knew he would never forget seeing another man touch Misty in the same manner he did.

  Across him, the woman’s entire face had lit up at having his attention for so long. “Can I say I’m absolutely thrilled to be seated in the same table with you, Your Highness?”

  “I believe I should be the one honored, Lady Carlton, as I know you are one of the greatest historians of our races.”

  Misty didn’t even know that, but then this was Domenico. His knowledge was limitless, but he also rarely shared anything he knew if it didn’t suit him.

  When Domenico continued smiling at the woman next to Misty, a dazed expression entered Lady Carlton’s eyes, as if unable to handle being looked at by Domenico for so long. The so-called great historian then mumbled something incoherent and looked away, still appearing bemused – so much so that she absently tried to take a sip of her soup with her fork.

  Misty resolutely kept her gaze away the moment the other woman let out a gasp of embarrassment, having realized her mistake. Doing so caused her to accidentally meet Domenico’s gaze. There was a twinkle in his lovely green eyes that made him appear so irresistibly boyish she couldn’t keep her lips from twitching.

  When Domenico’s lips parted, she unconsciously leaned forward, an undeniable part of her longing to hear whatever he had to say---or just his voice even.

  “Domenico?” Ivory’s soft husky drawl saying his name stung Misty’s ears the same time Lysander gently touched her arm.

  The spell broke.

  Fuck! Domenico felt murderous the moment he saw Misty’s eyes widen in horror before quickly turning towards the younger man. He could feel the wolf inside him growling a low warning sound. Never had he been this close to losing his control, but now it was all he could do not to tear the other man’s throat just for daring to look at Misty.

  “Domenico?”

  Willing himself back in control, he forced his attention back to Ivory. “I’m sorry. Yes?”

  “Would you like me to tour you around the realm tomorrow?”

  Domenico turned to Misty.

  Having heard every word of the brief exchange – which for some reason sounded laden with sexual innuendo to her admittedly jealous mind – Misty tried to pretend she was completely enamored with whatever Lysander was saying. She tried to ignore the way Domenico’s gaze bore through her but then she felt something.

  Surely she was mistaken.

  But---

  Her toes curled.

  No, it was impossible. He couldn’t---she wouldn’t---

  When her nipples actually started to poke through her dress, Misty immediately crossed her arms over her chest and turned to look at Domenico with a glare.

  This time there was nothing charming about Domenico’s smile. Rather it was purely wicked and sinfully sexy, and that smile said it all. He really had been undressing her with his gaze, making love with his eyes, and she had known it! Even after everything he did, Misty still had this stupid connection with him.

  His gaze deliberately dipped low, focusing on the expanse of skin that her low-cut dress exposed. She had never really worn something like this with him, but tonight she had felt like she had to look her best.

  She tightened her hold over her chest. Misty glared harder. Stop looking at me like that!

  His smile widened, as if saying, Then don’t wear something like that.

  “Is there something you want?” she finally asked, knowing that she would never win a staring war with Domenico. He would just have her end up blushing and aroused.

  “I’m wondering if you could take me around the realm tomorrow---”

  “I’m busy---”

  “---as I have questions about pertaining to its defense,” Domenico ended silkily.

  Misty swallowed the rest of her protest. Whether Domenico was lying or not didn’t matter. Anything about the Alliance mattered too much. About to answer, she paused – and took the time to consider what she was about to say or do. This time, she tried to think like Domenico.

  Finally, she said, “I think that’s a great idea.” Misty faced Lysander with a smile. “As Co-Ambassador, I think you should come, too.”

  “I would love to, my pretty.”

  She turned to Ivory. “I’m sure you have other more important matters to attend to, but if you---”

  Ivory flashed Misty a lovely smile. “I would be honored to be of help.” She glanced at Domenico under her lashes afterwards, as if saying without words the other kind of help she would be willing to give.

  Misty’s fingers curled back into a fist when Domenico returned the smile with one of his own. “We would be glad of your company.”

  “Anything for the prince,” Ivory murmured, blushing.

  She stood up, unable to bear hearing another sickening word. They were flirting – flirting in front of her! “I---”

  But Domenico had suddenly come to his feet as well. “A dance, Misty? For old time’s sake?” Before Misty could answer, Domenico was already at her side, pulling her away and leading her to the dance floor.

  Feeling all eyes on her, Misty knew struggling away from Domenico would cause a scandal. “I don’t want to dance with you,” she hissed under her breath.

  “Too bad,” he answered readily, pulling her tightly against his hard body, causing her to gasp silently because of his heat – and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. As they started to twirl around the dance floor, Domenico easily taking the lead, he murmured against her cheek, “Do you like him?”

  She didn’t bother pretending not knowing who he was talking about since that had never been her style. “No.”

  He was quiet for a long time, making Misty oddly restless. She almost jumped when he turned to face her, his lips grazing her cheeks. “You could have lied.”

  “I know.” She remembered his letter – the words he gave her, and try as she might Misty couldn’t keep tears from pricking her eyes. “But I don’t want to…I’m not sure I can but if
I could---”

  Domenico couldn’t help tensing. “What?”

  “I don’t want to risk hurting you,” she whispered.

  He lost his step.

  Never ever in his life had he done something so ungraceful, something so alien to who and what he was. But right now, he couldn’t even feel the need to be embarrassed of tripping on his own fucking feet in the middle of the dance floor, in front of thousands of Faeries no doubt keen to judge him at every turn.