The Crown: A Modern-Day Fairytale Romance

by Samantha Whiskey

  “That is absolutely fascinating.” He stood up and walked closer to the shelf. “May I?” He asked, gesturing toward the picture books.

  “Go ahead.” I waved him on but inwardly cringed. It was hard having anyone look at my book right in front of me—having a devastatingly handsome and totally proper tux-clad man flip the pages with his fingers? It was downright unnerving.

  He walked with the book and stopped in front of the fire, warming his back as he smiled and surmised my work.

  The illustrations made the work. I knew that my words would be nothing without the artist who helped create the world for me, and I was sure that is what he was gathering as he scanned it. It didn’t bother me, either—knowing the artwork is what sold the books—because I had my other line of stories that consisted of only words. The ones I wrote solely for me that satisfied my every craving for sustenance. I was very lucky to be able to do what I loved, in a manner of different ways.

  He chuckled again, and I shook my head, twirling the taser in my hand nervously. A laugh was for a line, one I wrote, and it always filled my heart when it was pulled naturally from a reader.

  “This is brilliant,” he said, pointing to an opened page. “This line here about the similarities in young boys and wolf packs. I love it. This Alley girl is something.”

  I grinned and shrugged and hoped he couldn’t see the blush on my cheeks. “Thank you,” I said.

  He closed the book. “You must love what you do.”

  I nodded. “I’m one of the lucky few who gets to say I wake up excited to do my job every day.”

  “I do wonder what that is like,” he said, glancing down for a moment and that same weight I’d seen before on his shoulders situated itself there again. I couldn’t imagine what business he was in, but from the look of his clothes, and the way he spoke, I’d bet my money on a multi-billion-dollar business. The kind of pressure amounted from that position must’ve been astronomical.

  “Well,” I said, spinning the gun again, my nerves tightening with each compliment he gave me. “Mine is a job run on coffee and ideas.” My fingers slipped on the last spin of the taser and before I could blink the prongs had shot right off and landed just beneath his chest.

  His whole body straightened, his muscles trembling as if he tried to fight off the thousands of volts hitting his body all at once. A loud groan keened through his clenched jaw, and I leaped off the desk. “I’m sorry! Ohmygod I’m so sorry!” I instantly hit the switch, the cartridge popping off and ending the volts.

  He went down like a sharply cut tree, his head clipping the corner of my oak coffee table.

  I covered a gasp with my hands, my eyes flying wide as I waited seconds for him to get up. When he didn’t, I dropped to my knees beside him, tugging hard on his massive frame to flip him on his back.

  Oh holy hell, I’ve killed him!

  No.

  He was breathing. Softly. Strongly. His eyes were closed and there was a tiny gash at the top of his head, but he was breathing.

  Knocked out.

  Brilliant.

  I tended to his cut, half hoping the alcohol swab would rouse him. When that proved ineffective I smacked his cheek a couple of times.

  After a good twenty minutes of trying to wake him, his breaths turned to rumbling snores, and I gave up. There was zero chance I could move his weight. I tossed the afghan over his broad chest, tucking it under his feet at the end. I propped up his head on a pillow, half tempted to try and kiss him awake like in all those fairytales but quickly thought better of the idea.

  Still, there was something incredibly enticing about his mouth…

  No! No.

  I retreated to the couch, pulled my sweater tighter, and waited.

  Leave it to me to stumble onto the most attractive man in upstate New York, and then tase him to a stupor.

  Xander

  The crackling sound of the fire woke me. I blinked the haze out of my eyes and shook my head as I sat up. Where...what?

  A quick look at my surroundings brought it all back. Upstate New York. The unicorn-woman’s cabin. The author. I turned and found her staring at me, her blue eyes impossibly, beautifully wide, and her lower lip pulled between even, white teeth.

  “You tased me.” My voice was surprisingly even given the night’s events.

  She winced. “In my defense, it was a complete and total accident.”

  “You tased me,” I repeated through the shock.

  “It was just a little tase.” She held up her thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart.

  I fought the urge to smile through my bewilderment.

  “Right. What time is it?” The soft colors of dawn came through the window. I moved to stand, and my head throbbed to the beat of my heart.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that just yet. You hit your head when you fell,” she said, jumping out of her chair.

  My eyes dropped to her hands, and she held them out, empty. “I’m unarmed,” she said with an apologetic smile.

  My security team would have had a fucking field day with her. I was never going to live this down when they came for me in the morning.

  I sat back down, my fingers gingerly feeling the goose egg on my head. “You’re lethal. You know that, don’t you?”

  Her fingers were light as she brushed mine away and inspected the site herself. Damn, she smelled good. Apples, and cinnamon, and vanilla. “I cleaned it, and the bleeding stopped.”

  “And my chest?” I asked, feeling more than a twinge along my ribs. There were two small indentations on my shirt.

  “Well, I didn’t strip off your clothes, if that’s what you’re asking.” She sat back on her heels, watching as I unbuttoned my shirt.

  I couldn’t stop the smile that quirked my lips. I should be annoyed, hell, even angry that she’d literally electrocuted me, but I couldn’t help but find some humor in the situation, even if her coffee table had assaulted me.

  I heard her indrawn hiss before I saw the mark for myself. “Well if that doesn’t hurt like a bitch,” I said, finding the matching burn marks in my skin the same exact shape and size of her taser.

  “Ohmygod, Ohmygod. I’m so sorry.”

  I choked back the obvious you don’t have to call me God, joke and instead shook my head. “It’s alright. I’m not dead.”

  She reached out to touch the marks but then thought better of it, jerking her hand back. “What am I thinking? You’re a virtual stranger, and I’ve tased you, beaten you, and almost touched you. My God, it’s like reverse Misery, only I’m Kathy Bates.”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, watching her with fascination as she raked her hands through her hair, exposing more of the color. I wanted to feel the strands, to watch the way they shifted in color toward the under layers.

  “You know, Misery? Stephen King?”

  “Gotcha, and it’s opposite because you’re the writer, and I’m the one injured.”

  “Exactly!” she said, pointing at me. Then her forehead wrinkled. “Wait, you’ve seen Misery?”

  “I live in Elleston, not Mars. We have movies there and everything. We’re contemplating indoor plumbing next year.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Right. Sorry. This has been the weirdest night of my life.”

  “I think I might have you beat there. What were you doing before I got here?”

  She glanced back at the desk in the corner. “I was writing. I’m on deadline, and my brain always seems to function better at night.”

  “I’m sorry to have interrupted you. Feel free to work. I promise to stay right here if you promise not to electrocute me again.”

  She smiled, and my heart stopped. My God, she was perfection.

  “What?” she asked, noticing my stare. I didn’t stop but instead took note of all her features from her heart-shaped face, pert nose, and creamy skin to the electric blue of her eyes and thick, long lashes.

  I was attracted to her, and not just in a she’s-pretty kind of way. Oh no, there was something
here...a palpable electricity that had me wondering what the colors in her hair would look like fisted in my hands. What her gasps, her moans would sound like when I took her.

  “I’m just wondering if Americans hide all of their beautiful women in the woods.”

  She blinked, then broke our eye contact. “I wouldn’t know since I kind of hid myself up here.”

  “What were you hiding from?” Don’t say your husband.

  “People in general. I don’t do well in crowded cities, or anywhere I can’t find some quiet. My brain is always busy in a story, and sometimes that doesn’t always mesh with what’s going on around me. This place is my own little slice of gorgeous silence.”

  “I’m sorry I barged in.” I understood the driving need for peace and quiet.

  “If you hadn’t, you’d be dead. Besides, what would you be doing if you hadn’t run off the road?”

  “I’d probably be back at my hotel in New York, listening to my mother catalogue the many ways I’ve disappointed her while my brother attempted to charm whatever unrelated woman was closest.” Truth was I was happier where I was at. She didn’t know who I was. What I was.

  “You have a brother?”

  I nodded. “I do, and two sisters. All younger.”

  “Ah, the oldest. I know your type.” She reached over and pulled her blanket off the small loveseat, wrapping it around her shoulders.

  “Please, do enlighten me,” I said, shifting so I could lean back against the couch.

  “You’re responsible, moral, duty-bound. You carry more than you should because you feel everyone’s expectations on you, and you’re slightly jealous of your younger siblings because they don’t have the same bullshit rules you had and generally get a free pass.”

  Bingo.

  My head tilted as she smiled slowly. “I nailed it, didn’t I?” she asked.

  “Scarily accurate. What about you?”

  “Oh, I’m a more dangerous creature...the only child.”

  “Spoiled?” I guessed.

  “Rotten,” she agreed with a grin. “I’m flighty, stubborn, used to getting my own way. I don’t share well, and I can’t ever seem to do what everyone thinks I should. Hence my cabin in the woods, here.”

  “Wow. Is that what you use for your online dating profile? I can see why you’re single up here,” I teased.

  “Ha!” she threw a pillow at me.

  I deflected the projectile easily and laughed. The sound caught me off guard. It wasn’t the practiced, polite laugh I was expected to give in public, nor was it the kind my family elicited behind closed doors. It was carefree and loud.

  “How do you know I’m single?” she asked.

  “You tased me.” I pointed to the marks on my chest. “No calling a boyfriend, live-in or otherwise. You did it yourself as if you’re used to being on your own.”

  She glanced at my bare skin and turned the prettiest shade of pink. “I did. I am.”

  It was like we were on our own planet, just the two of us surrounded in the snow. Almost as if the outside world didn’t exist. Had I known her better, I would have moved to kiss her. I would have taken her face in my hands and kissed the mouth that said such inappropriate, wonderful things. I would have tasted her, savored every gasp. I would have stolen every moment I could.

  But I didn’t know her, and it wasn’t remotely fair to her because she didn’t know me.

  Hell, maybe that’s why I liked her so much. I couldn’t remember a time where everyone in the room didn’t know who I was, didn’t cater to me, bow to every fucking wish. College, law school, especially my time in uniform, I’d always been a Wyndham—either feared because or wanted for my title. Even Charlotte, as much as I adored her, never pushed back.

  “What about you?” she asked quietly as if she was tiptoeing past a trespassing sign.

  “I’m used to taking care of myself, yet I’m never alone.”

  “Girlfriend?” she tugged the edges of her blanket closer.

  I thought about Charlotte for a second and then shook my head. “No. I’m single, but it’s complicated.” Maybe it was the dying fire, or the soft dawn lighting on her face, or the fact that she’d literally saved my life last night, but I was telling her things most reporters would salivate over.

  “Complicated like an ex? Or complicated like three other wives back in Utah?”

  I laughed again, feeling tension ebb from my body.

  “Complicated like there’s a woman my family would very much like me to end up with, but we’re more like siblings.”

  “Well, you know those powerful families, they like to align themselves. At least in the books I like to read,” she said with a shrug.

  My stomach tightened. “And you know about my family?”

  “No,” she answered, her eyes open and honest. “But you showed up at my house in a tux that costs more than my car, so I’m pretty sure your family business entails a bit more than my mom’s embroidery shop in Kansas. Why, do you know my family?”

  “Touche,” I answered with a bowed head.

  “The snow stopped,” she said, looking up over my head to the very same window I’d seen her standing in last night. We both stood at the sound of a car making its way up the drive.

  “And it looks like your ride is here,” she said, her smile twinged with sadness as we spotted the black SUV parking in front of the house.

  Sure enough, Oliver, my personal security guard, climbed out of the Escalade and made his way to the door, the snow up to his knees. Then he turned and waved, and another guard appeared and began shoveling his way to the door.

  I shook my head and turned toward the fire, tugging on my still-damp shoes and tying them as she answered the door.

  “Sir,” Oliver said, a subtle note of snark in his tone as he arched an eyebrow at me. “Have a good night?”

  “I did, thank you,” I told him, sliding my arms through my tux jacket.

  “Needed some fresh air?”

  “I did.” My eyes flickered to my unicorn-rescuer. She’d been the breath of fresh air I’d been seeking. I just hadn’t realized it. “Enjoy your night off?”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s the last time I take a night off and leave you in the less capable hands of the security detail. We need to get you back to the city, Your—”

  “Absolutely,” I said loudly, cutting him off before he could whip out my title and ruin what I had with this woman.

  Oliver rolled his eyes but got the point. “I’ll just be outside, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Oliver.”

  He shook his head but walked out.

  “Oliver, huh? Holy Crap. Are all the men in Elleston as gorgeous as you two? Because...damn.” She shook her head slowly.

  I blinked.

  She caught my gaze and blushed bright red. “Can I offer you some coffee for the road?” she asked.

  “No. I couldn’t ask you for anything more than you’ve already given me.” I stepped as close to her as I dared without crossing any lines and reached for her hand. She offered it, looking up at me under those impossibly long lashes. “Thank you,” I whispered as I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the back. Cheesy, but it was really just an excuse to feel her skin against my mouth. Ignoring protocol, I turned her delicate wrist and placed another kiss into the palm of her hand, loving the tiny gasp she let out.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  I begrudgingly dropped her hand before she accidentally tased me again. We were quiet until we reached the front door. “I’m in New York for another couple weeks, and I’d really like to see you again if I could,” I told her before I thought it through.

  Thinking through things led to expectations and responsibilities.

  Her eyebrows shot up, and her smile stole my breath. God, this woman was beautiful, and not in the hothouse, cultured way the women in my circle were. No, she was a wildflower, vibrant in the sun without apology, growing for no one but herself.

  “I don’t even know your name,”
she said, pulling her blanket closer.

  “Xander.” I owed her a last name, and I knew it, but every second I could get with her before she knew who I was tasted precious.

  “Willa,” she answered.

  “Willa,” I repeated, just to try it out. She even sounded like a wildflower.

  “Xander.”

  “Cold,” Oliver called out from the other side of the door.

  I sighed. “Is that a yes? I can see you?”

  “Without the hypothermia?”

  “Or the taser.”

  She laughed, and it was prettier than bells, or harps, or any of that ladylike crap I was supposed to love. Everything about her was genuine and intoxicating.

  “I’ll think about it,” she challenged.

  “You have no idea how convincing I can be,” I answered, my grin instant.

  “Yeah, yeah. See you if you ever wind up in another blizzard,” she teased as I walked out.

  I looked back to see her leaned against the doorframe, still wrapped in her blanket, with a smile brighter than the sun itself. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Willa.”

  “I didn’t agree!”

  “You will!”

  My smile was still firmly in place as I slid into the SUV next to a waiting Jameson.

  “Nice to see you, brother,” he said, straightfaced.

  “Anyone else know where I was?” I asked as we pulled out of her driveway, the snow coming up past the tires.

  “Nope, I kept your secret.”

  I sighed. “And only one guard team? I’m impressed with your restraint.” The SUV rocked back and forth as we made our way down the steep hill toward the paved, plowed road.

  “Well, the other one was needed to dig out my car.” He threw me some serious side-eye.

  “Sorry about that one. Handled great until that turn.”

  “Yeah, okay. And did I hear you making plans with the American girl before getting in?” he questioned, sliding his sunglasses up so I could see his eyes, so like mine yet so less burdened.

  “I did. Tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow night is the concert at Carnegie Hall. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”