The Prince's Cinderella Love

by Lara Hunter

  Grace frowned, assessing her. The woman was gorgeous, with fine features and angelic, blond hair that swept down her back and shoulders. As Grace eyed her, the woman’s face sprung into a smile, realizing that it was her cue. She took a step forward, reaching toward her. Grace accepted her hand.

  “I’m so sorry. How rude of me. Grace Long,” Grace said. “And you must be Michael’s—”

  As Grace formed the words in her mouth, Michael’s voice thundered over her. “Fiancée. Yep. We got engaged just recently.”

  Grace only allowed herself a moment’s hesitation, a moment’s sadness. Fiancée.

  She shook the woman’s hand, grinning, remembering that one of the first rules of being a lawyer was never to give your true feelings away. “My goodness. You’re quite beautiful. He’s lucky to have you.”

  The woman chuckled, turning pink. “I don’t know about that. But we are pretty happy.” She shrugged. “My name is Helen, by the way. Helen Wood.”

  “Well, Helen. It’s wonderful to meet you,” Grace said brightly. “So, I’m assuming we’re doing a pre-nuptial agreement this afternoon? I hadn’t had time to go through Marie’s documents before your arrival, unfortunately. She’s not supposed to get sick on me.” She grinned, uncertain, noting that Michael hadn’t taken his gaze from her. “She loves doing pre-nuptials normally. She gets all gooey working with couples who are in love.” She winked at Helen.

  In the back of Grace’s mind, questions were running wild. Why was he looking at her like that?

  Her brain raced, searching for answers, trying to read the relationship between Michael and his suddenly named beloved. She was bright, bubbly, almost like a cheerleader in an ‘80s movie.

  Helen wrapped her thin hand around Michael’s elbow, stroking her fingers along the sleeve of his immaculate suit. They looked like the perfect couple, but for some reason, the pairing didn’t make sense to Grace. They appeared all wrong, like puzzle pieces to two very different puzzles.

  “Prenup. Absolutely,” Michael said, his voice booming. “The glorious first step of any marriage.”

  “Any marriage to someone like you, darling,” Helen corrected. She cleared her throat. “We met at work. So it’s not like I was a gold digger to begin with.” She seemed to hurry to correct any negative feeling Grace might have about her.

  She waved her hands slightly, as if sweeping the issue under the rug. “Of course. A man like you must be married to your work,” Grace said. She gestured toward the two seats in front of her desk and watched as the couple eased themselves into them.

  She sat in her own chair and leaned forward heavily, placing her chin upon her fist. She felt utterly exhausted. “What is it you ended up doing, Michael? Following in your father’s footsteps, or…?” She assumed that since Michael was clearly rich and successful, he’d probably just tied himself to his father’s parachute, the way his father had suggested. Somehow, their conversation came flooding back to her. She could have written nearly every word down, like a script.

  Michael’s dark eyebrows rose high, giving her a faint image of who he once was, when his face had been hopeful and filled with youth. “In fact, I didn’t. I opened my own software company, Johnston Technologies. We’re just a few blocks away from here, on Broadway.”

  “Wow,” Grace breathed. She remembered the fear he’d felt, speaking about the potential of following his dreams. “What an impressive feat. And I didn’t even have to hear about all the treacherous time in between. The long nights of coding; the weeks and weeks you ate nothing but ramen and pizza. All of the horrible parts of launching a business.” She turned up her nose playfully, enjoying that they had this in common. “And yet, here you are. You survived it.”

  “That’s the beauty of meeting someone as an adult, isn’t it?” Michael offered. “You don’t have to deal with all the baggage they picked up and left behind in between.”

  “Indeed,” Grace agreed, her tone wistful. She felt the sizzling chemistry between them, just as she had twelve years before. But she had to rein it back. After all, Helen sat between them, eyeing them with suspicion. She could sense the weight of their words.

  Grace cleared her throat, forcing herself to be rational as she drew up the manila folder. Of course, it made perfect sense that this man she’d always referred to as “the one who got away” had found someone to love. It had been twelve years. He could have moved to Peru. He could have been married three different times, and she wouldn’t have been the wiser. She scolded herself inwardly, remembering the initial moment of happiness and—yes, hope—that she’d felt when he’d entered her office. Like finally, her ship had come in. She hadn’t even known she wanted to go sailing.

  “So, you said you two work together?” Grace asked brightly, realizing she’d allowed the silence to stretch on for far too long.

  “That’s right,” Michael affirmed, turning to Helen. “I hired you, what? Three years ago now?”

  “Three years! And was it love at first sight?” Grace asked.

  “Well, I’m not sure about that,” Helen said, her voice prim. She hardly looked toward Michael as she spoke. “He was 27, one of the richest CEOs in Manhattan, and I was 21, fresh out of college, and really, just completely lost,” she laughed. “But he offered me the position, and I found my footing pretty quickly. We definitely became good friends early on.”

  “Good friends,” Michael agreed, repeating it back like a parrot. “She was one of the best workers at the company.”

  Grace frowned. It seemed they hadn’t bothered to rehearse the story of their relationship, let alone the way they’d become friends. But of course, she didn’t have much experience in love and relationships. Perhaps these kinds of things didn’t matter to most people. She was a writer, on some level, at least. Story was essential to her. To Helen and Michael, however, perhaps it wasn’t.

  “And then the company grew even more prosperous,” Helen continued, her voice tentative. “And, well, one thing led to another, as they usually do.”

  “We’re actually neighbors, as well,” Michael said, almost as an afterthought. “I kept running into her on my way home from the office, always around midnight.”

  “I couldn’t believe how long he stayed there, after we all went home,” Helen said. “He worked like a maniac.”

  “A maniac. I would probably agree with that,” Grace said, even though this was the furthest thing from her mind when thinking of this ghost from her past. The Michael she had met had been filled with warmth. He had spoken of things excitedly, hopefully, and with love. He seemed the very type of person to gush about his fiancée, rather than brush off the story of their love as easily as brushing off a meeting with a stranger.

  Grace paused once more. “I’m guessing you two have a great engagement story?” she offered, spreading out the prenuptial agreement papers.

  “Well, it was a mutual decision,” Michael said, shrugging. His voice was cold, and it chilled Grace. “We spoke about the pros and cons of a union. And then—”

  Helen interjected. “Michael, of course, got down on one knee. It was so romantic. It was all you dream of, you know, when you dream about getting engaged.” She swallowed sharply, her eyes slightly moist.

  Painting a plastic image of an engagement scene in her mind, Grace couldn’t position the pair of them in it. What was going on? The more she spoke with Helen and Michael, the deeper their indifference to the engagement seemed to grow.

  She gestured toward the papers, nodding. “Of course,” she agreed, hardly hearing her own voice. Her ears were ringing. “Shall we get started, then?”

  “Absolutely. Time is of the essence,” Michael agreed.

  In that moment, Grace realized she couldn’t remember what his lips had felt like over hers anymore.

  She knew then that it had always been a delusion. Michael was nothing but a stranger to her. And he’d be nothing more, no matter how much she dreamed of something more.

  THREE

  Grace began fil
ling out the prenuptial agreement, then. She focused on the way her fountain pen scraped against the paper; on the sound of her voice as she asked question after question. Outside, the sun was dipping out of sight, leaving them with the humming, flashing city night.

  “And when is the big day?” she asked finally, hoping she sounded enthusiastic.

  “We’re to be married on Christmas Eve,” Michael said.

  “Oh, yes. If I remember correctly, you’ve always loved Christmas,” Grace said, her heart lifting. Perhaps he wasn’t so different than his youthful, eighteen-year-old self after all. Maybe he still held some romantic, inward belief about Christmas.

  “Oh?” Michael said, his voice lifting. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “And I know for a fact you worked through the past three Christmases,” Helen laughed, her voice lilting. “And we never decorate the office. Our only company party happens in the summertime—because it’s more practical, weather-wise.” She shrugged. “It’s not that we mind about the lack of Christmas. We just never pegged Michael as a holiday man.”

  Grace tilted her head, watching the way Michael’s face tightened. “So, the choice of Christmas Eve…?”

  “We need to get married before the New Year,” Michael said stiffly. “And Christmas Eve is a day most of my clients take off. Not exactly the most romantic reason, I know. But the most practical, certainly.” He turned toward Helen, his eyes steely.

  “That’s right,” Helen said. She seemed far away, deflated by Michael’s practical motivations for the date of the ceremony.

  “Well, I suppose there’s no reason to waste time. Especially when you have the money to book whichever venues you please,” Grace said, feeling empty. She wrote the date on the prenuptial agreement, her fingers shaking. She imagined another reality, in which she and Michael planned the intricate details of their wedding together. Perhaps Michael would insist on Christmas tree decorations scattered throughout the reception hall. Perhaps they’d kiss beneath the mistletoe.

  “I do like my dress,” Helen offered, shrugging her bony shoulders. “I couldn’t be more excited to wear it.”

  Grace frowned, uncertain. “Well, there’s always the dress, I suppose.”

  “Just a silly ceremony on the path to the rest of our lives, right?” Michael offered, his voice tight and emotionless. If Grace hadn’t met him before, she’d have assumed he didn’t have a heart beating in his muscled chest. “It’s really no use to get all sentimental about it.”

  “Sure. Why would you get sentimental about your wedding?” Grace said, her sarcasm almost detectable. She made momentary eye contact with Helen, suddenly pitying the woman. What was wrong with this guy? Had he been broken? Had a past romance soured him?

  She finished up the prenuptial agreement, then, attempting to avoid any questions that reminded Helen that she was marrying a brusque, indifferent businessman. She passed the papers to each of them, watching as they signed them. Michael’s signature was confident, spidery, while Helen’s was big and bubbly.

  She should be marrying someone who’s excited to marry her, Grace thought. She should have someone shouting her name from the rooftops.

  But really, what did Grace know? Perhaps, behind closed doors, Helen and Michael were more in love than anyone in the world. Perhaps they giggled, had inside jokes, felt that their world would crumble without the other. And perhaps they were just wretched at showing all this in public.

  Michael was a computer science person, after all. Weren’t they notoriously bad at showing their emotions?

  “All right. That’s about it,” Grace said, pulling the papers together. “I’ll get these copied and filed, and you guys can get back to planning that wedding.” She gave them a grin, her gaze focused on Helen. “I’m sure it’ll be everything you really want it to be.”

  Helen’s phone buzzed in her lap. She looked at it quickly, the whites showing around her blue eyes. “You know, I really have to get back to the office. We have the last of the Project Zulu code to write tonight.” She shrugged toward Michael, excusing herself.

  “Of course,” Michael said. “We can’t lose that client. And you’re the best on the team. They need you.”

  Helen gave him a teasing grin. They shared a moment, during which Grace sensed Michael’s appreciation for Helen. But it seemed far more like the appreciation a boss held for an employee than the love between two people who would be publicly declaring their adoration for each other in just a few weeks’ time.

  Helen waved toward both Grace and Michael, rising from the chair and tapping toward the door, not stopping to hug or kiss her fiancé. “It was wonderful to meet you, Grace. Thanks so much for all your help today.”

  “My pleasure,” Grace called.

  Grace turned her eyes back toward Michael, slipping the papers into their manila folder. Silent moments ticked between them. “And you? Do you have to return to the office as well?”

  “I’m off for the rest of the evening,” Michael said coolly, bringing his elbows to the table. He leaned upon the polished wood, looking at Grace with those dark, penetrating eyes she’d glimpsed in countless dreams during the previous twelve years. “They can take care of things without me, for once.”

  “Difficult, running your own business, isn’t it?” Grace smiled. “I know that all too well these days. I feel like I’m always here.” She gestured toward the massive office surrounding them, the gleaming, floor-to-ceiling windows. “Of course, it’s not the worst place in the world to be.”

  “I’d say things worked out for you,” Michael said. “Although, didn’t you say you wanted to be a writer of some kind?” he asked, his voice growing less brusque with each moment.

  She sensed the chemistry growing between them once more, now that Helen had left the room and they were no longer discussing their wedding. Grace’s face grew hot.

  “Sure. I always wanted that. But what you want and what you need don’t always align, huh?” she said. She rose from her chair, sauntering toward the coat rack and wrapping herself in her long, dark green coat. It twirled around her ankles, and Grace watched, pleased, as the coat caught Michael’s eyes.

  “You told me to listen to my gut about what I wanted to do,” Michael offered. “I’ll always remember that. You, the mysterious girl who stole me away from the parade.”

  “And now, I’m just a lawyer from Manhattan,” Grace teased. “I’m so boring these days. My, how things change.” She winked at him quickly, forcing a smile. “But if you don’t wish to discuss anything further, I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible. It’s almost seven, and I feel like I haven’t slept in days.”

  “Of course,” Michael said. He wrapped his firm hand around the doorknob and opened it, allowing Grace to exit first.

  He followed, stepping into the elevator behind her. His presence seemed heavy, deep. Grace half-wished she’d allowed him to leave before her, so as not to spend another moment so close to his nearly irresistible form. Their chemistry was now palpable, without Helen between them.

  Several of Grace’s employees, including her secretary, Christina, eyed them curiously as the elevator doors closed. Grace was never seen with a man. She wanted to yell out and explain, “He’s a client!” But that wasn’t entirely true, either. She didn’t know how to tell the story of him without sounding ridiculous.

  The elevator bounded toward the ground, taking the couple to the first floor. As they rode, Grace cleared her throat, skimming her thoughts for something to say. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest.

  “You liking Manhattan?” Grace finally asked him, her ears ringing.

  “It’s a remarkable place. I’ve been here for a few years now, ever since I left Yale,” he said. “I couldn’t think of a better place to build my business.”

  “Strange, I suppose, since so many of you computer types flock to San Francisco or Seattle,” Grace said, tapping from the elevator. She didn’t have to look at Michael to know that his eyes were on
her, zooming in on her lips as she spoke.

  “I couldn’t leave the East Coast,” Michael said. “There’s a magic here that you don’t find anywhere else. Even if you hated that Christmas parade in Vermont, you have to admit it couldn’t have taken place anywhere but the East Coast.”

  “Sure,” Grace agreed. She remembered her disdain for the parade. Perhaps it matched Michael’s disdain for his upcoming wedding. “We certainly have the snow for it,” she added.

  As they walked through the lobby, Grace realized, miraculously, that it was the very day the building workers put up Christmas decorations. They stood on tall ladders, joking with each other, singing Christmas songs in gruff voices. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, small Christmas trees lined the hallways, and tinsel sparkled from the corners, brightening the usually drab interior.