Prince

by Cambria Hebert

  “Sometimes it’s the same,” I muttered.

  Her green eyes burned jade. “Ethan Theodore Abbott, did you just imply that I’m stupid?”

  “Not you, Mother. Of course.” I hurried to assure her.

  “And if I am not as accepting?” Father said, his voice filling the room. “If I tell you that my only son, my heir, being gay is an embarrassment to me, then what?”

  There it was. The expected. The reason I’d kept my personal life personal all these years. This was what I’d prepared myself for, so strangely, his words of rejection had less impact on me than the words of acceptance my mother offered.

  “Adrian!” My mother swore.

  “You had your turn, Lizzie. Now it’s mine.” His voice was devoid of the softness he used earlier when speaking to her, but his eyes never left me.

  Turning fully to face him, I straightened my suit jacket and lifted my chin. “Then I’m fully prepared to choose.”

  “And your choice?” He challenged

  “Will not be you.”

  Mother’s gasp behind me barely registered as my ears filled with the deafening roar of adrenaline as it spiked through my veins. The beat of my heart tripled, and my breathing turned rapid. But I stood there calmly while rage nearly ripped me apart inside, remaining picture perfect on the outside.

  My father maybe thought he could intimidate me, make me back down from any choice he did not approve of. Abandoning the drink cart, he stalked forward, our eyes never once straying from the locked battle they waged.

  He must have forgotten that I inherited my resolve from him.

  “Just like that?” he asked.

  “Just like that.”

  “And should I not be offended, then, that you would turn away from your blood so easily? From the people who gave you such a life? From this entire empire you are due to inherit?”

  “Should I not be offended that you would turn your own blood away because his heart doesn’t beat the way you want it to?”

  His nostrils flared, eyes flashed.

  “You and Mother might have given me life, sir, but it’s not yours to dictate. It’s mine to live.”

  “Adrian! Ethan!” Mom called. “Enough of this!” The anxiety in her voice was undeniable, but neither of us turned or backed down.

  We stood there measuring each other for an undisclosed amount of time, until, finally, one of us relented.

  His hand pushed between us, and my eyes dropped to look at the offered peace. Lifting my stare, I found his once more. He nodded briskly, emotion I rarely saw shimmering in the depths of his gaze. “All right, son. I admire a man who knows his own mind.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. You’ve lived many years being a son we can be proud of. Now it’s our turn to be that kind of parents.”

  I didn’t want it, but emotion rushed to the backs of my eyes, and I couldn’t swallow past the sudden lumps in my throat. Sliding my hand into his, we shook on it, which honestly was as close to a hug as we’d ever come.

  But it was enough for me. In fact, it was more than I expected.

  Clearing my throat, I drew back, putting a little distance between us, trying to get a little air. The muscles in my back were tense, and I could feel the pressure at the base of my skull. For as “unemotional” as I’d been at the start of this conversation, it was clear I’d been under stress.

  My body was now reacting, my mind slowly catching up.

  “I, ah, I apologize for pushing Sienna on you. I—”

  Is my father apologizing? Adrian Abbott very rarely apologized. But whatever he was about to say was abruptly cut off by the loud rattling of the door handle and the way it burst in.

  Frantic, Fletcher stumbled in, pale cheeks and wild eyes searching. “Ethan—”

  The clear anxiety radiating from his every pore put me on high alert. My instincts to protect roared front and center.

  “How dare you just barge in here?” my father barked fiercely.

  Fletcher’s eyes blew wide as he stumbled back, his violin case falling at his feet. “I-I-I’m sorry. I—” He stuttered, clearly not knowing what to do as he stared at the people in my office.

  “Fletcher,” I called, and his honey-colored eyes fastened back on me instantly. The second the weight of my stare settled on his, I felt a little part of him relax.

  “Excuse us for a moment,” I said to my parents, not taking my eyes off Fletch.

  A shocked expression crossed the older man’s face, and then came the anger. “Excuse me?”

  “Fletcher has just come from the hotel. I need to speak with him a moment,” I said, straining to hold on to my patience.

  “We are in the middle of something important, and you would dare interrupt that for… well, for that?” He tossed his hands out at Fletch, who actually flinched.

  I had a sudden vision of Fletcher rushing out of my apartment days ago, and just that brief memory made my gut clench. Patience completely snapped, I rushed toward Fletcher, using my body as a shield to offer him a bit of reprieve.

  Curling around his upper arm, my fingers squeezed just enough to get his attention. There was no mistaking the anxiety in his eyes, an expression that was also underscored with fear. I felt him trembling, and I couldn’t help but wonder what made him this way.

  “All right now,” I crooned ever so softly, leaning down so it was only him that could hear. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

  His hand wrapped around my forearm. The grip he had on me was so much stronger than the one I applied to him.

  “I-I shouldn’t have just burst in,” he said, unable to keep his voice hushed like mine. He was too worked up. Too nervous. “I j-just…” His eyes strayed to the area above my shoulder, looking in my parents’ direction, unable to see them but still aware they were there. His voice dropped so low I had to strain to hear. “I needed you.”

  Everything under my skin turned soft and pliant. If he wanted to, he would be able to reach out and mold me into the exact shape and size he wanted.

  He needs me. Something scared him, and he did what his instincts always insist upon. He ran. But this time, he ran to me.

  I wanted to pull him in. I wanted to crush him close until I felt his body mold with mine. I wanted to wrap around him and offer protection and safety from anything and everything.

  Behind me, my mother shifted. “We’ll wait outside.”

  “The hell we will!” my father bellowed. “This is ridiculous. You, boy,” he intoned, stepping forward to see Fletcher, “get out.”

  A low rumble vibrated my chest. The hand on my forearm squeezed but then let go. A cloud of resolve surrounded me. Even with its force, I was steady. Rotating, I caught Fletcher’s hand even as it fell away. I wasn’t letting go.

  Sliding down his arm, my fingers found his, tangling together and holding tight. He gave one surprised tug, but a quick, pointed look over my shoulder made him still.

  My father’s footsteps paused when my eyes flicked back to him.

  Charged, poignant silence echoed through the room. Fletcher’s fingers were cold and quivering in mine. I wanted to tuck them in my pocket, but first, I had something to do.

  “This is Fletcher. I told you about him a few moments ago.”

  Father’s brows drew down in consternation, and confusion clouded his face. “You said nothing about him. We were talking about—” He stopped, eyes widening. A look of complete shock stole over his face.

  Adrian Abbott looked at the man at my side with renewed interest, his stare slipping down to where we held hands. Fire was glowing in his gaze when he looked back up.

  Fletcher yanked his hand free of mine, taking a timid step back. “Ethan,” he whispered, overwhelmed and probably confused.

  I turned my back to my parents, softening my stare toward him. “No running today. You stay here where you belong. At my side.”

  Fletcher’s eyes darted toward my parents, then back to me.

  “Trust me.”

 
; Even though there was doubt in his stare, worry creasing his forehead, he nodded, stepping forward to erase the distance he’d created when he pulled away.

  Leaning down, I let my lips brush his ear with my low murmur. “That’s my good boy.”

  When I turned back to my family, his hand slipped beneath the suit jacket, fingers bunching in my shirt at the small of my back.

  “You can’t possibly be saying that—”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I announced, my voice cool and steely. “Fletcher is who I love. And you would do very well to remember who I said I would choose.”

  His hand jerked in the fabric of the shirt, pulling it out a little from the waistband of my slacks.

  “Fletch,” I said, turning just enough to see him but not enough to dislodge his killer grip. I offered him a smile. “These are my parents, Adrian and Elizabeth Abbott.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Father muttered.

  I raised a brow.

  “Hello, Fletcher. It’s wonderful to meet you,” my mother said, coming forward. Her smile was soft and accepting, though her eyes roamed eagerly over the man still tucked half behind me. “I complimented Ethan on his happy glow earlier, and he tried to tell me it was his tie, but I think the real reason is you.”

  Fletcher shifted to stand at my side, his hand still buried under the back of my jacket.

  “Ethan always glows,” he told her. “Even before he met me.”

  She smiled, eyes soft. “Well, I suppose you have a point.”

  “Maybe he gets it from you,” Fletcher said, his voice shy but easily heard.

  My mother was obviously delighted by this. She smiled brightly, and I could practically feel Fletcher’s ears turning red.

  “Aren’t you a charmer?” she crooned.

  “He has a bear on his shirt!” Father snapped as though he were disgusted.

  Fletcher stepped a little closer into my side.

  “It’s Moschino.” My mother and I defended it at the same moment. In my world, you could wear anything as long as it had a hefty price tag.

  “Is that a designer?” Fletcher bemoaned, tugging on my shirt. “I told you nothing expensive.”

  “But it’s cute,” I argued, glancing down at the definitely designer sweater with a big teddy bear on the front.

  A repulsed sound ripped from my father. “You bought that? Of course you did. Does he even have anything to his name? You hired someone off the street just because he could play a violin, and now look!” He fumed. “He’s attached himself to you like some kind of urchin. A street urchin, Ethan.” Throwing his hands up, my father’s cold stare drilled into Fletcher. “Look, rat, I don’t know what kind of games you’ve been playing with my son, but he’s not your ticket to riches.”

  Fletcher’s hand slipped from under my coat.

  “Dad!” My voice was like a lightning bolt through the room, causing even my mother to flinch. “Were you not listening before? I said watch your words. Watch your tone. I will not tolerate you degrading him. And if this is the way you feel, then you can leave. Now.”

  Father blinked. “You seriously would pick him over us?”

  “I already have.”

  Fletcher sucked in a breath. I could feel his shock and upset. Reaching out, I anchored an arm around his waist, tucking him close. It wasn’t so much for comfort. It was to ensure he didn’t bolt.

  “I can accept the fact that you aren’t interested in women. But this? Declaring you’re in love with some riffraff off the street! It’s borderline ridiculous. Have some sense, Ethan. At least find a-a man with some breeding and—”

  “Get out,” I intoned, releasing Fletcher to take a threatening step forward.

  My father’s words fell away, and his mouth hung in shock.

  “I said get the hell out!”

  I never yelled at my parents. Not ever. Yelling was below us.

  Not today. Not ever again.

  Blood boiled in my veins, making me itch with heat. I could scarcely see past my anger and the arrogant, uppity attitude my father dared display.

  At first, I thought maybe I’d been wrong about the way my parents would react. After all, they originally accepted my confession.

  But no. It was as I feared.

  My father couldn’t accept the fact that I would dare love anyone he deemed unworthy.

  “It’s not Fletcher who’s the unworthy one.” I spat the words, advancing on the older man. “It’s me. I might have money, but he gives me things money can’t buy. He doesn’t need a name to be worthy because he’s already invaluable. I don’t expect someone like you to ever understand, so go. And don’t ever darken my door with your ignorance ever again.”

  My father stormed out, slamming the door against the wall so hard I was sure everyone on the entire floor heard.

  Mother stood in the middle of the room, dividing her gaze between me and the door. Tears shimmered on her lashes. “Ethan, he’s just—”

  “I don’t care,” I said, unable to keep the coldness in my tone when I spoke to her. “Just go.”

  Her eyes slipped back to Fletcher, and I stiffened. Noting my immediate reaction, she pulled away and swept from the room.

  Chest heaving, I stood there trying to calm my racing heart as anger still lit up my veins. Bree scurried into the doorway, wincing in apology as she grabbed the door and gently pulled it closed.

  It was silent, but the room was not quiet. Too much raw emotion overwhelmed the atmosphere. My ragged breathing seemed to bounce off the walls.

  I knew Fletcher probably needed me. I was sure he was likely shocked by what just happened on top of whatever sent him running here to begin with.

  I just needed a moment, just a brief second to catch my breath.

  And then I would make sure he was okay. I would—

  Slim arms wound around me from behind, linking at my waist while a body pressed along my back. His cheek nuzzled against me, and one hand flattened on my stomach.

  The breath whooshed out of me.

  He hugged tighter.

  The room finally went quiet.

  It turned out it wasn’t Fletch who needed me in that moment. It was me who needed him.

  39

  Fletcher

  * * *

  We said nothing in the Mercedes on the way to Ethan’s place.

  We said nothing in the elevator.

  Nothing as he unlocked the front door.

  The moment we stepped into our safe haven, with the door shut and locked, all the unspoken words found their voice.

  “You told your parents,” I said, still trying to process what I’d walked in on. I knew Ethan was going to tell them. I had no idea it would be today. No idea the panic threatening to choke me would no longer seem important when he boldly stood in front of me and declared his love.

  How effectively he smeared that line drawn between our worlds. How easily he acted like it didn’t even matter. I knew it wasn’t easy, but he made it look like it was.

  I really admired Ethan Abbott. I felt it all the way down to the soles of my feet. He was honorable and humble. He was not weak but brave.

  At first, I’d stood there scared and afraid, desperately wanting to flee. But his strength was my anchor. It gave me courage. Next time, I didn’t want to stand behind him. Next time, I hoped to be strong enough to be beside him.

  I loved him.

  I loved that he was willing to shield me, willing to say all the things I wasn’t while never making me feel less than for not being ready.

  I might have money, but he gives me things money can’t buy. He doesn’t need a name to be worthy because he’s already invaluable.

  His words burrowed deep inside me, next to my deepest, secret insecurities. Hate cannot chase out hate. Only love can. His love was shining a light on the dark insecurities inside me, making them seem smaller than I ever realized them to be.

  “Yes,” he said simply, dropping his keys on the table and rubbing the back of
his neck.

  “They don’t mind you being gay. It’s me they don’t like.”

  His head shot up, eyes fierce as though he were ready for an argument. An argument to keep me.

  The corner of my lips tipped up. My heart swelled so much that it put pressure on my ribs. “I’m not going anywhere. Even now when I run, it’s in your direction I turn.”

  A rough sound ripped from his throat. I felt it in the pit of my belly. He rushed me, but I was ready, leaping into his arms, tangling my limbs around his upper body. I breathed in deep at the juncture of his neck, his scent flooding my senses.

  “I wish you didn’t have to choose,” I whispered, sadness enveloping some of my swollen heart. I was beyond grateful for his love, but to be truthful, it cost him a lot.

  “Fletcher…” He beckoned, his voice rough but sweet. I looked at the sincerity shining in the blue depths of his stare. His emotion was so strong it nearly stole my breath. “I can live without anything, anything but you.”

  I melted into his lips, sighing into the kiss. It seemed like weeks since he’d kissed me last and not just this morning. It felt like, since we’d met, we’d crossed oceans and continents together, nearly drowning, sometimes getting lost. But fate always steered us back.

  The muscles in his upper body flexed as he carried me up the stairs. We kissed endlessly as if he didn’t need air, as if I was all the oxygen he could need. The way his wide, skilled hands cupped my ass as he stepped into the bedroom made me hungry for things food could never satisfy.

  I shuddered when he slid me down his body, my limbs already weak and quivering in anticipation. I swayed when he let go, which brought his hands right back to anchor my hips. Lifting my chin, I asked for more kisses, which he instantly gave while carrying me to the edge of the bed.

  Dizzy with passion, need thrumming beneath my skin, I watched him strip off his suit, revealing inch after delicious inch of his smooth skin. The broadness in his chest was comforting, the definition to his abs sexy as hell. Narrow hips, long, muscled legs, and at the center of it all, a cock that was already flushed with a glistening tip.

  Completely entranced by his physical assets, I drew him closer, licking my lips. Breath hissing in anticipation, he slid his fingers through my hair. Warm saltiness bloomed over my tongue when I licked across his bulbous head. His fingers tightened against my scalp, and I swallowed him down, taking his impressive length as far as I could. I did it again and again, plunging down his length, taking him so deep my eyes watered.