Not So Prince Charming: A Dirty Fairy Tale

by Lauren Landish

  “Oh, my God!” she screams, backing away. Her face loses all color. “Oh, God.”

  Before I can ask what’s in the box, she turns, retching blindly before fleeing with staggering steps as though she’s drunk. I watch her go, then turn my attention to the box which sits, the flaps open, the plastic that was used to pack the object inside exposed as well.

  It’s with almost a sense of inevitability that I cross my office, nudging one cardboard flap aside to look down into the plastic-wrapped face of Jericho.

  There’s a piece of paper in there with him, and my hand is steady as I reach in, unfolding it to see the typed note inside.

  You once told me you prefer a body as proof, so consider this confirmation of death. And you seem to be rather fond of sending messages, so here’s one for you. If you come after the people I care about, the Fallen Angel will have one last target . . . you. Besides, I think you have other things to worry about.

  Underneath is a symbol that looks sort of like the letters V and A combined . . . but I know what it is. It’s the symbol of an archangel.

  It’s the symbol of Gabriel.

  Well played, Mr. Jackson. If I weren’t angry with him, I might be impressed with his gall.

  His implication that Goldstone is focusing on me should be a threat, but truth be told, it excites me. A worthy opponent for me to win against.

  Let the games begin.

  Chapter 39

  Isabella

  It’s been quiet for a few days, and as crazy as it sounds, I need to live my life. I refuse to be shut away in Mia’s penthouse, no matter how castle-like it may be, any longer. There’s only so many video games, so many hot tub baths, and so many rides one can take on a spin bike before your cabin fever gets out of control, and I’ve done all of this before.

  It helps that Gabe has told me that I’m his new full-time gig. A protection detail, he calls it. I say he’s my bodyguard when I’m feeling friendly, my babysitter when I’m a little on edge from the lack of fresh air.

  Thankfully, he’s agreed to let me out today, so I grab my backpack, double-checking that everything is inside.

  “You ready, Princess? Your chariot awaits,” he teases, flashing me the double-dimple smile I love so much.

  He’s been amazing, helping me calm down when I have a bit of a flashback or worry about what could happen next and using all of his imagination to keep me entertained in a myriad of ways when I’m feeling bored.

  I’m not ashamed to say that Mia accidentally walked in on just one of those imaginative distractions yesterday morning. But being Mia, she just offered a hooting cheer and even clapped before closing the door. Thankfully, it’d been mostly my ass she saw, and nothing more . . . revealing. If she’d seen Gabe, the possessive bitch in me would’ve had to get her for that.

  I lift to my tiptoes, and he stands tall, making me work for it. But I gain enough height to kiss him, rubbing a small circle with my thumb over each dimple. “Let’s go,” I say, ready to get my life back.

  We take Gabe’s SUV to the school, and I sit while he does a preliminary check of the parking lot before letting me out. It feels ridiculous. I’m not some celebutante fake royalty, but considering the outlandish story my recent life tells, I’ll take it.

  He opens my door, helping me out. “Which way first? I did a walkaround of campus yesterday, scouting weak security areas, hiding spots, and risk points, but I’d rather follow a spontaneous route to check in with teachers so that no one can lie in wait.”

  I waggle my eyebrows at him, adjusting my backpack just a little tighter to make my boobs stick out some more. “Talk security to me again. It’s so sexy.”

  “Princess, don’t distract me or I’ll just throw you back in the car and fuck you right here,” he growls, his hands still by his side as he maintains his control physically even as his voice slips a little. It’s hot as hell, knowing that I can affect him while still driving him to such depths of dedication that he’ll resist kissing me here. I’m sure he’ll take it out on me later, though.

  He continues. “And that wouldn’t be safe for either of us because fuck knows, I’d be watching my cock slip in and out of your pretty pussy and not looking for threats.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, teasing and turning me on with his filthy promises.

  My smirk is pure devilment, and my words are a purr. “I feel like you mean that to sound like a bad thing, but it sounds like a risk I’m willing to take.”

  It’s not, and we both know it. Neither of us are gambling that big when the stakes are this high, but the tease is enough to promise later games.

  Gabriel chuckles. “You’re full of shit. But if it’s a public fucking you’re after, I’ll shove you up against the penthouse window when we get done with our errands. Now where to?” he growls.

  I grin, feeling like I won the verbal sparring and got a promised prize for tonight. “Fine, let’s go see Professor Daniels first.”

  The meetings with my professors go surprisingly well. The first time I’d explained that I’d had a family emergency requiring some security measures that kept me off-campus had been awkward. But starting with Professor Daniels, I’m repeatedly assured that Mr. Goldstone had made it clear that he appreciates the university’s assistance in keeping his inner circle safe.

  My jaw keeps hitting the floor, shocked at just how understanding everyone is, but when I’m told I don’t even need to turn in the assignments I’d missed, I balk.

  No way am I going to let that fly. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am, earning every single class with hours of slinging food and every single grade with hard work. I tell each of my teachers that I appreciate the sentiment but that I’ve done the assignments and want the grades deserved by the caliber of my work.

  Everyone is willing to accept that, except for Professor Foster, but she’s always a stickler, so I’m all too happy to take the late grade, since at least she lets me turn in the project I’d completed, albeit at a ten-percent penalty.

  After completing the school check-ins, I have to do an even scarier one.

  The Gravy Train.

  “Martha and Henry are going to have my hide for being gone so long without a word, especially after unexpectedly going on a ‘vacation’ and leaving them stranded,” I say with a cringe.

  “I think you’ll be surprised,” Gabe says as he walks me across the parking lot.

  He’s right. When I go in, there is only love. Martha almost drops the tray she’s carrying, and Henry runs out from the kitchen, still holding his spatula.

  “Izzy, you’d better get over here and give me a hug!” she says, not giving me a chance as she wraps her arms around me on one side and Henry takes the other side. He’s muttering something about me making his ulcer hurt, and I can’t help but smile, having missed his grumbles.

  Elaine stands back, waiting her turn, and then hugs me too once Martha and Henry let me go. Seeing my bandaged hand, she steps back, looking at it carefully.

  “What the hell? We were betting he swooped you off to Vegas to get hitched, but this don’t look like no wedding band.”

  She gives Gabe a hard look, but before she can consider fetching one of Henry’s knives for Gabe’s balls, I hug her again.

  “No, no . . . it’s fine. I am fine. Just a little drama, but I’m all good. No Vegas wedding either,” I protest. “If that happens, I’m gonna do it right. In a real church, with you all there.”

  “And Elvis?” Elaine asks before calling over her shoulder, still eyeing Gabe. “Pay up, Henry. Told you our Izzy wouldn’t get married without us.”

  “Fine.” He digs in his pocket, pulling out a ten-dollar bill and holding it up for Elaine to take. She stuffs it into her apron pocket, earning a ‘harrumph’ from Martha. Henry shrugs and looks me over. “All right, then, girl. Tell us what you’ve been doing and what’s happening now because my ulcer has been flip-flopping between worried and excited. Both hurt like the dickens.”

  I give them a very edited, very
short version of the last few days, making the getaway seem like the vacation I told them it was from the beginning and then the stayovers at Mia’s more girls’-night-in than safety concerns. I can’t mention Jericho or the danger. It wouldn’t be safe for them or for me, really.

  “We heard about your house,” Martha says sadly as Elaine tells a customer to hold their horses and holds a finger up in the universal sign of ‘in a minute’. “You okay?”

  “It’s almost a total loss, given the fire and water damage,” I admit. “It was so old, it practically needs to be rebuilt. I’m just staying at Mia’s for now.”

  It hits me as I finish—I’m homeless, for all intents and purposes.

  Thank God for good friends. I’ve put them off so many times over the years when they’ve tried to help me, hidden how dire my situation was time and again, but when I need it, they step up to help without hesitation.

  Gabe speaks up. “Doesn’t matter,” he says quietly. “I’ve already talked with a contractor, and even if it means a total razing and rebuild . . . we’ll do what it takes.” His eyes go soft, his gaze loving. “This beautiful Princess isn’t going to be without her castle for too long.”

  My jaw drops. Henry smiles proudly. Martha and Elaine have matching shit-eating grins.

  Martha whispers loudly to Elaine, “Told you he was one of the good ones.”

  I can’t look at them, too hung up on the bomb Gabe just dropped. “What are you talking about? I can’t afford to have some contractor rebuild my house.”

  Gabe brushes a thumb along my bottom lip, not giving a shit about the crowd watching the intimate gesture. “I was going to save this for later,” he whispers in my ear, “but I couldn’t hold back. It will be rebuilt . . . and it’s not quite your house anymore.”

  I flinch at that, fiercely saying, “The hell it’s not. I worked my ass off to keep Reggie’s house, and it’ll be mine until the day I die, even if I have to work my fingers to the bone to keep it.”

  His smirk is maddening until he continues, “I meant that it’s not your house. It’s our house, Princess. I know that’s where you want to stay, and I want to stay by your side, so I’m moving in.”

  I blink, my anger dissipating instantly. “You want to move in with me?” I ask incredulously, giddy delight forming in my belly. Then, because I can’t help but tease him, I say sassily, “I didn’t ask you to.”

  He leans forward and whispers hotly in my ear, “Do I look like the kind of man that waits to be asked for shit? You’re mine.” Then he stands back up, gives me a look that dares me to disagree and declares, “I’m moving in with Bella.”

  I study his face, looking for any sign of uncertainty and find only love. I see my home, not the four walls I‘ve always felt kept me in touch with my past, but my actual home in Gabe. A future for us. Wherever that may be.

  He is my home.

  But that he knows how important my house is to me lets me know, without a doubt, that he gets me. And with him having traveled for long years, I’ll do whatever I can to make my house as much his as it is mine. And to hold his heart as dearly as he holds mine, in a safe haven.

  “We’re living together,” I say, agreeing.

  “Does this mean you’re leaving us?” Henry asks cautiously and I wonder if he realizes he’s rubbing his belly.

  I shake my head, “Never. This is my second home.”

  It’s been a long road, and I’ve been alone for a lot of it, beaten down by life again and again. But I have a good circle, supportive people who help me even when I don’t want it, love me even when I’m too busy hanging on by a thread to give much back, and who would do almost anything for me.

  I look to Gabe. Actually, he would truly do anything for me. Even kill. And rather than being scared by that, it gives me peace, hope, and makes me feel loved.

  Chapter 40

  Gabriel

  “A toast,” Thomas says, raising his glass of red wine, and we all follow suit. “To a growing circle of family.”

  He looks around the dining room table, making eye contact with each of us, Mia first, followed by Charlotte, Bella, and lastly, me. Our fivesome has become rather tight-knit over the last couple of weeks.

  Bella and I are both living in the guest room, but that’s going to end when our house is ready.

  The contractor showed up with a big fucking crew, and they’ve been working their asses off to finish ahead of schedule and earn a nice bonus. With Thomas paying for the rebuild as an apology for getting Bella mixed up in all this, I put up the rush order bonus, and Bella has decided to be okay with that after I’d promised her we’d christen every room and surface in the house.

  And I plan to keep my word.

  “To a day well-lived, a night well-slept, and a life well-loved. Cheers!” We lean forward, clinking our glasses to one another’s and sipping.

  After a few bites of delicious chicken and rice with asparagus, conversation begins again. The girls especially always have something to say, and Thomas and I have learned to have near-whole conversations with our eyes and eyebrows in response to their antics.

  “But for real, I told my boss that I’d be happy to pick up his dry cleaning, but only for the next two weeks,” Charlotte says, her voice tapering off in excitement, begging us to ask for more.

  Mia’s fork clangs to her plate as she realizes first what Charlotte is saying, “You quit your job!”

  Charlotte nods, “I did. I’m so glad to be getting out of there, especially with all the nerves that every meeting was going to be a surprise firing squad of Blackwellian design. I’ve never been so happy to be the invisible girl at the front desk everyone ignores. But I got the business loan, put in an offer on the location I fell in love with, and I’m doing it. I’m opening my own bakery.” She looks to Thomas, “Thanks again, partner."

  Thomas shakes his head. “Nope, read that contract again. I’m not a partner and don’t want to be involved in any way. I’m just a silent investor in a business owner I believe in. Especially if you add a delivery service for my orders. I’m seeing quarterly Bundt cake meetings at Goldstone, birthday cakes for the boys at Roseboro Boys’ House, and some cookies for the veterans’ monthly meetings.”

  “Deal,” Charlotte says, and we all congratulate her.

  Going by the few samples and trial runs of recipes she’s brought by The Gravy Train, she’s an awesome baker, and I’m looking forward to eating more of her creations. And being a taste tester.

  She talks a bit about her plans for the space she’s found, a supplier of Belgian chocolate she discovered, and then she turns to Bella.

  “And I need to hire you to create my logo, business cards, menu boards, and whatever else I haven’t even thought of yet.”

  Bella beams. “Really? You want me to do that?”

  Charlotte rolls her eyes, “Duh, of course. You’re the best graphic artist I know. You’re also the only graphic artist I know, but don’t let that dilute the compliment." More seriously, she says, “Just let me know the going rate, or maybe the friends and family discount rate?”

  I lean over to whisper in Bella’s ear, and she turns to me, a smirk on her face. “You sure?”

  I nod, and she looks back to Charlotte. “My security detail has advised me that my fee should be . . . a weekly muffin and coffee for each of us when we stop by to visit.”

  Charlotte jumps out of her chair, throwing her hand at Bella and then me for a shake. “It’s a deal, no backsies.”

  “I might be able to use the designs as a showcase for my final project too, if you don’t mind? Two birds, one stone,” Bella says thoughtfully.

  Mia interrupts, sarcastically adding, “I’m sure your showing the bakery’s logo and menu to a big group of hungry college students and professors will be a huge inconvenience for a new business owner. Huge.” She holds her hands far apart and then moves toward her mouth like she’s devouring a whole cake by herself. Her grin is visible even behind her hands.

  “How’s
school going?” Thomas asks Bella, ignoring Mia’s weirdness as she talks to the imaginary cake she’s still pretending to eat.

  “Good, turned in all the assignments I missed, even the ones Professor Daniels said I didn't need to.” She rolls her eyes and Thomas laughs. “Everyone seems adjusted to my shadow here, and I’ve scared off all the girls who tried to talk and flirt with him.”

  The last part is growled, making me laugh as I remember Bella damn-near licking me to mark her territory when some blonde kept inviting me to her study group despite my telling her repeatedly that I’m not a student.

  “Just maintaining surveillance on my most valuable possession. Where she goes, I go,” I say, resting my hand on the back of Bella’s neck and rubbing small circles with my thumb.

  Mia’s accent appears again. “Newsflash—it’s 2019. She’s not your possession.”

  Bella’s eyes lock on mine, and I can see the heat there mirroring my own. She doesn’t break our eye contact, but she tells Mia, “Shut up, Mia. He didn’t mean it in a bad way. And I’ve heard some of your stories, so you have zero room to talk.”

  Thomas clears his throat uncomfortably. “Before you two run down the hall to have sex in my guest bedroom, I did have something I wanted to give you, Gabe.”

  His all-business tone wakes me from the spell Bella is weaving around me. Reluctantly, I turn to him, one eyebrow raised and my other hand on Bella’s thigh.

  “Mia finished going through the information on the data card,” he says quietly. “I know you asked that we ignore it, but we thought you’d like to know anyway.”

  I swallow, and Bella lays her hand over mine, squeezing it supportively. “And?” I ask both Mia and Thomas.

  “There were two main names on the card you gave me. One, Joe Ulrich, you don’t need to worry about. He’s dead. But there was a full life history and background check if you want to see it.”