Royal Beast: A Dark Fairy Tale Romance

by Nikki Chase

  “Yeah.”

  “For one year?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “You’ll have to spend a lot of time with me,” he says teasingly.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not a catch,” Zeke answers.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Let’s call it an add-on item.”

  “Which means…?”

  “If you’ll have my baby, I’ll give you another million.”

  Zeke

  “A baby?” Ali frowns, making horizontal lines appear in her forehead. Looks like that’s the last thing she expected to hear from my mouth.

  “Yeah, a baby,” I answer confidently.

  I’ll admit I’m not a baby person. Most people wouldn’t look at me and go, “You know what that dude needs? He needs a baby.”

  No. I’m Zeke Harris. I don’t do relationships, much less babies.

  But desperate times call for desperate measures.

  Besides, this is Ali. I’ve always thought that if I were to ever get married or have kids, it would have to be with her.

  I was young when we briefly got together—we both were—and I let her go. I haven’t stopped regretting that, all this time.

  I’ve gone through woman after woman, and things would inevitably fall apart, as soon as I compared them to Ali. That’s why I’ve given up on actual relationships. I only have one-night stands now.

  But as I put my offer of a one-year marriage on the table, it doesn’t seem like long enough.

  We’re talking about Ali her. I’ve never been able to forget her, even though so much time has passed. What makes me think one year would be enough?

  I’ve spent many years yearning for her, regretting my decision to let her go. Now that she’s here, I want to make her stay.

  But after the way things ended, I don’t know if she’ll ever agree to having a real relationship with me.

  I’ve been worried that she’d still hate me, so I was relieved when she walked into my office with a smile.

  But right now, she’s not smiling.

  Considering I just gave her such a crazy offer, after seven years of nothing, I’m lucky she’s even still sitting there. I fully expected her to bolt so fast there’d be an Ali-shaped hole in the wall.

  “You’re not just pulling my leg, are you?” Ali asks, her perceptive hazel eyes studying me. Even though she has lived here since she was a teenager, there’s still a hint of a Spanish accent in her voice.

  “No, Ali.” Joking is the last thing on my mind right now. This is serious. It’s a matter of life and death. Literally

  I wish my first meeting with Ali could’ve happened under better, more normal circumstances, but I’m glad she’s here at all. Otherwise, I’d have to find some other woman to be my fake wife, and that sounds about as appealing as a kick in the nuts.

  “Two million dollars?” Ali asks.

  “Yes, if you have the baby.”

  “So, uhh… Will we have to… Uhh… Will it be an artificial insemination?” Ali asks, choosing her words carefully.

  That’s adorable. After everything we’ve been through, she’s obviously still uncomfortable about mentioning sex.

  “Sure, if that’s what you want.” The corners of my lips pull up. It seems I can’t help smiling when Ali’s around.

  “And if we can’t have a baby?” Ali asks, ignoring my implication that we could have the baby some other way if she wants—the natural way.

  “Then you’ll still get the one million dollars.”

  “What happens after the one year is up?”

  “We’ll get divorced, and you’ll get the money,” I say, my heart clenching at the thought of separating from Ali. But I push that worry to the back of my mind. There are more urgent things to take care of right now.

  “Why one year?” Ali asks.

  “Because if I can’t close this deal in one year, then I would’ve lost the opportunity.” Technically, I’m not lying. But guilt creeps into my chest regardless, just like it used to, when I was hiding Joanne from Ali, all those years ago.

  “And if I can’t help you close the deal?”

  “You’ll still get the one million dollars,” I assure her.

  In reality, this is less about the result, than just knowing that I’m making every attempt I can. There’s no guarantee this is going to work, but it’s my best shot.

  “Why do you need a baby?”

  “The baby is not necessary,” I admit. “But it will give me a better chance of closing this deal.”

  “And if you don’t close this deal, you’ll have paid me one million dollars for nothing.” Ali smiles. At least it’s not an outright no.

  “Not for nothing, Ali. I’ll have spent a whole year with you,” I say in a voice that sounds more sincere that I expected.

  “Zeke,” Ali says in a serious tone. “Are we… Does getting married also mean that we’ll actually be seeing each other again?”

  “Not necessarily. Not unless you want to,” I say, again hinting at the ball being completely in her court. I’ve wronged her in the past, so it’s only right that I let her make the decisions now.

  “Where will I live?”

  “At my apartment,” I say.

  “And if it turns out we don’t make good roommates?” Ali asks. Her tone sounds more casual. Now that she knows exactly what I’m offering, she has relaxed a little.

  “I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I say, deliberately keeping my answer vague.

  I used to get into a lot of trouble with my big mouth, saying everything on my mind right away. But thanks to Aiden, I’ve now learned the art of dodging unwanted questions.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Ali says, to my surprise. “There’s no use worrying about something that may or may not happen.”

  “Exactly,” I say. I draw breath into my lungs as my heart keeps thumping in my chest. “So what do you say?”

  “I’ll have to think about it, Zeke,” she says.

  “I understand. Let me know in twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s all the time you’re giving me? This is a big decision, Zeke.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. Like I said, it’s only on paper. Besides, I’m running on a deadline, so it’s not because I don’t want to give you more time to think.”

  “Okay,” she says quietly, obviously already coming up with a list of pros and cons in her head.

  “I’ll call you when it’s time,” I say.

  “Okay.” Ali draws a deep breath and squares her shoulders. She asks, “Do you have any other work for me to do today? Like, at the office?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” Ali says as she gets up from her chair.

  “Talk soon,” I say to her full, perky ass while she walks away.

  I hope she says yes. That’ll make it so much easier for me to claim her for myself. For real.

  End of preview.

  Thank you for reading!

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  Bonus: Guilty

  A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

  Prologue

  What just happened?

  Everything’s dark. Black.

  There is some red too, running down my face, turning my vision into a pink, hazy blur.

  Out of nowhere, a completely irrelevant thought slips into my mind: This is probably not what people have in mind when they say “rose-tinted glasses.”

  There’s more red splattered on the ground, countless little droplets of it covering tiny shards of glass.

  I can even taste that red in my mouth. It’s a lot like rust.

  Water.

  I need water. I need to wash down that metallic taste.

  But where?

  I need to get up and fix this. Whatever’s happening, it’s not good.

  I focus on the tips of my
fingers and will them to move.

  Why is it so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard.

  With horror, I watch my fingers twitch weakly through my foggy vision.

  That’s the best I can do? When I’m exerting all my strength?

  Help. Somebody.

  I need help.

  Is there even anybody around?

  Everything within my eyesight is covered by a pink cloud.

  It’s like one of those pictures that people take with expensive cameras where everything in the background is unclear.

  Except my sense of sight is not supposed to show still pictures. My eyes are supposed to be able to refocus.

  But all I can see are my hands, just inches from my face. And I can’t even move them.

  God. Whatever this is, I hope it’s temporary.

  Sometimes, in my more morbid moments, I’ve thought about which of my five senses would be the worst to lose. The answer is always eyesight.

  I wouldn’t mind losing my hearing as much. At least as a deaf person I’d still be able to walk places.

  It all feels like a joke right now, because none of my five senses is working.

  I feel like I’m underwater. I can’t see or hear anything. Not clearly, anyway.

  I can still breathe, although my lungs feel like they’ve been crushed. I once watched this show on Discovery Channel with old cars being flattened into cubes by huge metal plates. That’s kinda like how my lungs feel right now.

  But I’m still breathing, so I’m probably above ground. That’s one good thing, at least.

  My ears are ringing. Instead of the cacophony of noises I’m used to hearing in the city, there’s just a single high-pitched tone.

  Wait.

  Is someone touching my arm?

  I can’t see any moving shadows in front of me. Whoever’s touching me must be behind me.

  I close my eyes and strain my ears to listen.

  “…okay.” A woman’s voice. It sounds close and far away at the same time.

  I force my mouth to open and manage to let out a small groan.

  The hand on my bare arm strokes my skin soothingly.

  “You’ve been…going to be okay…hospital…”

  I can only make out a few words. Sounds like they’re the important words, though.

  My heart is still racing, but cold anxiety slowly drains out of my body when someone throws a soft blanket over me. I let the warmth seep into my skin as my thoughts drift away to a happier place.

  Cole

  “Hi, Cole.” A girl appears from the darkness and hooks her hand around my arm. “Long time no see.”

  Three minutes. A personal time record from just walking through the door of a bar to having some girl attach herself to my person.

  “I’ve been busy,” I say. I don’t remember her, but then I don’t remember most girls. I sit down at the bar and she follows, planting her ass on the high stool next to mine.

  “I’ve missed you,” she says, pouting her glossy pink lips and fluttering her fake eyelashes. Studying her face, I wonder if she’d be more attractive without all those layers of make-up. “Where have you been?”

  “Well, I’m here now,” I say. I raise one hand to catch the bartender’s attention. Maybe if I ignore her she'll leave me alone. “Does it matter where I’ve been?”

  “Not really,” she says, pulling my upper arm closer and pressing them between her tits, which are almost spilling over her black corset. “It’s just been so boring without you.”

  I give her a polite smile, and she blushes and looks away. What is it with girls who hit on you and then act all coy when you’re only trying to be friendly? It’s fake as fuck.

  But then again, what isn’t fake these days? Fake girls with fake lashes, fake tits, fake lips, and fake personalities. I haven’t admitted this to anybody, but I may be getting too old for this shit.

  I should be worried. I’m only twenty-seven, after all. And I happen to have a reputation. Some people would be seriously concerned about my well-being if they heard about me losing interest in women.

  I usually take pride in the quality of my work with the ladies. I get drunk on hearing my name on the lips of naked, sweat-covered, writhing women as they scream out prayers and profanities all at once.

  They’d rave to their friends about their toe-curling orgasms. That’s how I get a stellar track record and repeat customers.

  Business and women — they’re not so different after all.

  I just find myself preoccupied with the former rather than the latter lately, especially now that I have my own project that’s separate from the family business, and it’s beginning to take off.

  “Hey, Mr. Big Shot,” Shelley says as she approaches me from behind the bar. She glances at the girl hanging possessively on my arm and shoots me a sympathetic look. “The usual tonight?”

  “You know it. And whatever this lady wants.” I’ve been taught to always offer a round to company when I drink. If my mother were still alive, she would’ve found it unbearably rude of me if I didn’t offer the girl a drink.

  “A Macallan coming right up,” Shelley says. She turns her attention to the girl. “And for you?”

  “Cosmopolitan,” she says as she tightens her possessive hold around my arm. I was hoping to have a quiet, relaxing drink tonight, but I guess that’s not going to happen now.

  “Good choice,” Shelley says.

  Tall and statuesque with a supermodel strut, Shelley must make women jealous all the time. We had some fun as friends with benefits years ago. Those were good times. The benefits disappeared when she met her boyfriend, but the friendship remains.

  That’s the perfect relationship in my books. No fuss, no drama, and no messy loose ends.

  Too many girls think “just sex” really means “it’s only a matter of time before we fall madly in love with each other.” And then when I don’t catch feelings on their schedule, somehow I’m the bad guy. Don’t blame me for sticking to the initial agreement.

  And that’s why the girl sitting next to me now is a no go, even if I were in the mood tonight. Everything about her screams “trouble.”

  She has the crazy eyes. I have no doubt in my mind that she’d be one of those girls who’d end up trying to stab me with the kitchen knife or dousing herself in gasoline just to get some attention. I’ve had too many close calls with her kind to ever give it another try.

  Seeing my pained expression, Shelley suppresses a smile. She slides the drinks onto the counter and takes the bills in my hand. Her eyes glint with cheer when she checks out how much I’m tipping. Maybe Shelley only likes me for my generous tips, but it doesn’t matter. Everybody uses everybody else in some way.

  “Just so you know, Rick’s here.” She winks. That’s one perk of having Shelley on my side — excellent service from someone who knows exactly what I want.

  I mouth her a silent thank you before she turns around and walks away to serve the fat middle-aged guy who has been leering at her ass and shouting obnoxiously to get her attention.

  That’s a special kind of workplace hazard that attractive bartenders all over the world suffer. Shelley once admitted that it’s annoying, but she gets more tips when she dresses up in revealing clothes, and the money makes it worthwhile.

  A few seats further from the dirty old man, I spot Rick, partially hidden in the shadows.

  “Hey, Rick!” I wave at him and motion for him to come over. He grins and picks up his drink. A few people turn to look at him when he stands up to his full height.

  “Hey, man,” he says as he takes a seat beside the girl who’s still hanging on my arm, his shoulders hunched over his drink. “How’s life?”

  “Oh, you know. No rest for the wicked.”

  “Your father keeping you busy, huh?”

  “As usual,” I say.

  I don’t have many friends, and Rick is not exactly a friend, but we do sometimes bump into each other here at The Amber Room and chat about stuff.


  “Have you met this lady?” I gesture toward the girl, hoping she doesn’t catch on to the fact that I don’t remember her name. But even if she does, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.

  “No, I can’t say that I have.” Rick extends a hand toward her. “Hi, I’m Rick.”

  “Angela,” she says, shaking his hand.

  “I’ve seen you around here before,” Rick says, giving her his signature smile.

  “Yeah,” Angela says. “I do come here quite a lot.”

  “How do you know Cole?” Rick maintains eye contact with Angela. Despite his height-related awkwardness, Rick has never had a problem getting laid, thanks to his disarming charm and natural interest in people.

  “Oh.” She looks down, seemingly studying the knots in the solid wood bar counter in front of us. “We, uh, met here.”

  “I see,” Rick says, giving me a quick wink before turning his attention back to her. “Just like we just have.”

  “I guess so,” Angela giggles. She slowly loosens her grip on my arm and I inch away from her, letting Rick’s charm do its magic.

  I knew Rick was going to distract her. The guy gets along with everybody. And he’s always up for a chat — or more — with any decent-looking girl.

  I wait for a few minutes before making a big show out of checking the watch on my wrist.

  “Hey, you guys have fun. I need to be somewhere else now.” I exhale loudly to make it seem like I hate having to leave.

  I’m not crazy about talking business with my father, but it has to be better than this boring small talk.

  “Oh, already?” Rick says the words he’s supposed to say, but he knows I planned to ditch them from the beginning. He’s obviously glad to have some alone time with Angela.

  “Yeah.” I pull out my phone and see there are already three text messages from my father. “They’re probably already waiting for me.”

  “Alright man,” Rick says. “See you around.”

  “See you,” I say. “Good to see you again, Angela.”

  I turn around without waiting for her reply. It’s hard to read her expression in the dark, and I don’t care about anything she has to say anyway. I breathe a sigh of relief as I make my way toward the exit.