by Cora Kenborn
We’d lived a lifetime in a vortex of a few months. For most people, the stress and trauma of two stalkers, unplanned pregnancy, kidnappings, and murder would’ve ripped them apart. Maybe for a short time, it did. But when something between two people held as strong as it did for Julian and me, it made me realize we just may be unbreakable as both individuals and a couple.
From the moment he slipped his arm around my waist and saved me from an unwanted suitor at a random bar in New York City, Julian Bale took control of my heart. So far, he hadn’t given it back. I now knew he never would.
We’d walked through the other side of hell twice now, and not only did we live to tell about it, we’d become stronger people who would instill the same courage in our daughter. Iris would never remember what she went through, and because of her father’s refusal to give up on us, she’d never live in fear of the man I’d never forget. It was a small price to pay to give her the childhood I never had. I’d spend each day seeing the way my life should’ve been through her eyes.
And it was beautiful.
This life I loved.
This man I couldn’t live without.
This little princess of ours.
Epilogue
Phoebe
Five Years Later
“Hurry up, Mommy! It’s on!”
Setting down the most recent reviews, I clicked off the overhead light and smiled at the raven-haired fireball dancing circles around my office. Her electric green eyes sparkled as a ghost dimple sank deep into her left cheek. I quirked my lips up, trying to hide my amusement.
“And what makes you think you’re allowed to stay up and watch it?”
She stopped mid-twirl and popped a tiny hand on her hip. “You pacifically said I could when I caught you and Daddy wrestling in your…”
I covered her mouth and winked. “The word is specifically. Let’s just keep that to ourselves, shall we?”
She nodded enthusiastically and continued twirling into the living room. Rubbing my back, I snuggled up beside her on the oversized couch. Yawning, Iris rested her hand on my stomach.
“How long till Daddy’s on?”
I kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know, punkin. Could be after the commercial, could be in a couple of hours. These award shows are funny that way.”
As luck would have it, two commercials later, Iris leapt off the couch when the nominees for Album of the Year were announced. As they called Lords of Lyre’s name, the camera panned to their table. All the guys sat with their dates, except for the one man who still took my breath away. Dressed head to toe in black, he reminded me of the first night we met—his tight black pants almost giving me heart failure in that darkened nightclub. His hair, freshly cut and styled, had been gelled in the sexy “just fucked” way that made my fingers itch to run through it.
He smiled cordially and nodded as the announcer called their name.
Iris lifted onto her tiptoes and ran her hand along the screen. “Look, Mommy! Daddy’s on teebee! Hi, Daddy!” She waved emphatically.
I chuckled, then held my breath as the presenters opened the envelope.
“And the Grammy for Album of the Year goes to…Lords of Lyre, Dawn of Darkness.”
The crowd erupted as Ryker fist pumped the air. Zane slammed the last of his drink. Ty bowed his head as a small smile danced on his face. But Julian…his look of pride wasn’t about winning or patting himself on the back. I knew this man. I watched him gaze at each of his bandmates with a sincere smile of gratitude. He knew the award was for them. And they deserved it.
As they made their way to the podium, rock legends stopped to give them high-fives. It wasn’t every day a metal band won Album of the Year at the Grammys. This was a big deal, and I wanted him to soak it all in for the moment it was.
As they were handed their awards, the guys pushed Julian toward the microphone. The move didn’t surprise me. Julian had always been eloquent with words. If anyone could express what they all felt, it’d be him.
After thanking their fans, Kristina, everyone at Circa Records, and each one of his bandmates, Julian faced forward and deadpanned into the camera. “Lastly, I’d like thank the two most important people in my life; my inspiration, my beautiful wife, Phoebe, who couldn’t be here tonight because she’s about to give birth any day now. I love you, princess.” I swiped my eyes as the tears rolled. Damn hormones. “And, of course, my adorable little girl, Iris Rose. If you’re watching this…go to bed, little princess.”
Iris giggled and covered her mouth with her petite hand, her eyes twinkling. Half an hour after they walked off the stage, I pressed the button on the remote, ending the broadcast.
“Mommy!” Iris whined.
“You heard Daddy,” I warned lightly. “Go to bed, Iris Rose.” She stuck out her full lips and pouted. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scold her. In that moment, she looked exactly like Julian.
“Can I please stay up until Daddy gets home? Pleeeease?”
“That might be too late for you, little princess.”
Iris was the empress of the stall tactic, and smiling sweetly, she climbed in my lap and hugged me. “Tell me the story about how you and Daddy met again.”
I knew she was playing me, but as she snuggled against me again and pulled her pink blanket up against her cheek, I was a goner. Toast.
“Fine. Once upon a time, there was a lonely princess who lived in a faraway land called New York. The princess lived a quiet life and very rarely trusted anyone. She had a bad job, working for an evil king who ran an empire called Vinyl.” Iris giggled again. She loved that part. “One day, the evil king gave the princess orders to meet a joker at the market for an interview…”
She looked up with wide eyes. “Daddy said it was a bar.”
“Do you want to hear this or not?” She nodded, and I continued. “As I said, they met at the market. The joker was a mean man who wanted to hurt the princess. And he almost did…until a prince in shiny black pants showed up and saved her.”
As I told the rest of the story, Iris’s eyes began to droop. As I reached the part of Tanna’s stalker attack, I watered it down as usual. “And after the princess had beaten the evil step-sister, she held the magic sword over her head triumphantly. Eventually, the prince stumbled inside. ‘You’re late,’ announced the princess. The prince rolled his eyes at her. ‘Traffic,’ he said.”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
He stood in the doorway, award in hand. Fully awake, Iris squealed and jumped off my lap and into Julian’s waiting arms. “I seen you on the teebee, Daddy!”
“Hmmm.” Julian pursed his mouth. “I thought I told my Iris Rose to go to bed.”
Smiling sweetly, my beautiful child pointed a finger and sold me out. “Mommy said I could.”
He laughed. “Well, how about you let Mommy put you to bed?”
She shook her long dark hair. “No, you.”
Never one to resist her, he brushed the hair out of her eyes and headed down the hallway. “Okay, but on the way, let’s get a few things straight, little princess. The prince never stumbled anywhere. And when he found the princess? She begged him to marry her.”
***
I was already in bed by the time Julian opened the door.
“She okay?” I asked, eyeing him as he stripped off his clothes.
“Yeah. After I set a few inaccuracies straight in your little fantasy tale.”
“It’s called a fairy tale, Julian.”
“Not the way you tell it.”
I chuckled as he climbed into bed and ran a hand across my swollen belly. “Not much longer, huh?”
“Three weeks,” I said, grimacing. “I’m not sure how much bigger it’s physically possible for me to get.”
He grinned. “Hey, you popped two eggs out, woman. I just provided the electricity to light them up.”
I kissed him and wrinkled my nose. “Your visuals are disturbing. Besides, twins don’t run on my side, Bale.”
&nb
sp; “What the hell are we going to do with two boys?”
I thought for a minute. “Invest in a lot of air freshener?”
His deep-rooted chuckle sent tingles down my spine as he rolled onto his side. “I meant to text you earlier. I read the review in the New York Times. Congratulations, Mrs. Biographer. How does it feel to have a best seller on your hands?”
“Feels like I cut a vein open and bled all over some pages.”
Julian had insisted since we were married that MetroGroup Publishing change our original contract. The deal was no longer for an autobiography and a ghostwriter. He and Kristina secured a multi-million dollar renegotiation offer for “our” story. Written in my voice. Penned by me…Phoebe Bale.
Since the reviews had come out, and the book had topped pretty much every best seller list out there, I’d gotten at least four big name publishers offering me contracts.
I’d achieved the entire reason I’d moved to New York in the first place.
My eyes caught Julian’s Grammy sitting on the dresser. “I wish I could’ve been there with you tonight.”
He didn’t hesitate. “You were.”
I burrowed my head in his chest, one of my favorite places. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You said during your acceptance speech I was your inspiration, but the truth is, I couldn’t be if you weren’t what you’ve always been to me.
He buried his nose in my hair and inhaled. “What’s that?
“My hero.”
He chuckled softly. “When we first met, you told me you didn’t need a hero.”
“I don’t. I need you. You just happen to be one of those anti-heroes. And I’ve always had a thing for a reluctant good guy.” He answered by pulling me close and burying his beard in my neck.
Life never plays out the way you envisioned.
As a little girl, I had this image in my mind of marrying a prince. He’d gallop up on his mighty horse and whisk me away to a castle by the sea, where he’d slay all the dragons and lay the world at my feet.
Instead, I married a rock star. He drove up in his Laguna Blue Corvette and whisked me away to a beach house in the Hollywood Hills, where he ensured my father faded from my nightmares and laid the world at my feet.
Then again…maybe it plays out exactly the way it’s supposed to.
Life was funny that way.
I turned out the light and snuggled closer, thanking god for missed interviews, mysterious flower deliveries, undeserved album release assignments, coerced ghostwriting jobs, failed birth control, even mentally unstable stalkers, and murderous paternal figures. All of it shaped the people we’d become and the people we’d grow to be…the people we’d raise our children to be.
And maybe, just maybe, we wouldn’t screw up too much along the way.
But even if we did, life with Julian taught me an important lesson.
Life could dole out some pretty shitty things. If you let it, it could eat you alive and swallow you down until you shriveled into nothing. But if you could learn to keep treading water…keep your head high enough to still breathe air, some kind of amazing may find you while you’re busy kicking to stay afloat.
And once he’s found you, he won’t let go.
No matter what you do.
Because you’re his princess.
***
Bad boy Zane Tierney let the woman he never knew he always wanted slip through his fingers. But what lengths will he go to in order to protect her from self-destruction?
Will he sacrifice everything he’s worked for and, in the end, trade his life for hers?
Find out in
Fame and Lies (Lords of Lyre #3)
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Acknowledgements
As always, there wouldn’t be a writing career for me if it wasn’t for my partner in crime, my blog cohort, and the best friend in the entire world, KA Ware. You are the peanut butter to my jelly, the Thelma to my Louise, and my forever person. Thank you for “getting me.”
To all my amazing beta readers, I couldn’t have done this without your support. KA, Nancy, Crystal, Sandy, Misty, Angie, and Heather. You all are the best!
Many thanks to Marianne, Martha, Sarah, Crystal K., Lara, and Jodi for helping this Southern girl get her LA locations perfect. If you guys ever write about NC/SC, I’m your girl.
I’d be one disorganized, hot mess without the tireless efforts of my PA, Crystal Unger. You keep me sane and marketing myself even when I whine about it. Your friendship means the world to me, and I’m so thankful for an ARC sent on a whim.
Thank you to my phenomenal street team, Cora’s Dark Angels, and the two women who made it happen: Sandy and Kathy.
I couldn’t ask for a better editor than Gillian Leonard. Your running commentary on my manuscripts keeps me entertained. I’m so lucky to have been paired with you. #geoth4lyfe
Limitless Publishing, thank you for having continued faith in this series. I’ve learned so much from being a part of your team.
My covers are stunning thanks to Deranged Doctor Design. I don’t know how you do it, but each cover gets better than the last.
My peers author friends, Heather Dahlgren, Cassandra Fear, and Aimee McNeil, I am so thankful to have met you.
Amber Garcia from Lady Amber Reviews and PR, you put up with my lateness on a constant basis. You are truly a professional.
Rebekah Zink, you make me look good. Without you, I’d be drowning in a to-do list a mile long.
To my husband, who built me a writer’s cave and then laughed when I continued to write in bed in pajamas. Every day that I work from six a.m. until two a.m., I’m that much closer to fulfilling a dream. Thanks for taking the ride with me and not complaining when everyone has Hot Pockets for dinner.
My beautiful and demanding oldest daughter, who insisted she’d revolt if I didn’t put her in the acknowledgements and admit that she helped come up with a couple of plot lines. Yes, baby, you’re brilliant. Now go to class.
My middle child who swore I spelled Phoebe’s name wrong and has forever called her Foeebie.
My parents, especially my mom, who’s my best book pimper. Thanks for loving my story even when you blushed at how many times I dropped the F-bomb. It’s all right, so long as I follow it up with, “Bless your heart,” right?
To all the blogs that share my cover reveals, book release, teasers, and write such amazing reviews…thank you! I appreciate everything you do.
Last, but certainly not least…thank you to all the readers and fans of this series. It’s been an overwhelming second novel ride, and your comments, reviews, and messages have kept me smiling and pushing on. Thank you for allowing Julian and Phoebe back into your hearts.
About the Author
Cora Kenborn writes romantic suspense novels with strong heroines, complex alphas, harrowing danger, and snappy banter. She is the author of the rock star stalker series, Lords of Lyre but refuses to be pigeon holed into one specific genre. She loves delving into the twisted mind of a dark villain as well as giggling while writing rom-com banter.
Cora lives in Eastern North Carolina and is a true Southern girl, growing up on sweet tea, front porches, and the simple life. She says “y’all,” “fixin’ to,” and should you deserve it, will “bless your heart.” She’s the proud mother of three hyperactive and occasionally adorable children, and the wife of a husband who tolerates her chaotic writer’s cave.
Although reading is her passion, she can usually be found watching true crime shows and crafting inspiration for twisted new tales. Cora admits t
o being a horrible cook, an even worse baker, and believes she’s more dangerous with a hot glue gun than any weapon on earth. Oh, and she and autocorrect are mortal enemies.
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