“But I really don’t want their money, E. Really!”
“I know that,” he replied, sincerity in his eyes.
“Besides,” I said, turning back to his parents, “even if I do turn out to be their son, I’m still me. I was still raised by a criminal. I’m still from the Grimms. I don’t even have a violin anymore.”
Images of my busted violin with broken strings and splintered wood lying on the ground last night flashed behind my eyes. I would never feel her under my fingertips again. I’d never feel the subtle, unique way she vibrated when I played. The bow that bore the indents from my fingers, the wood that was worn in all the places I’d gripped it tightest… All of those things were gone.
A deep, hollow sadness blew through me like a bitter wind in an empty city alleyway, leaving behind something terribly lonely.
That violin had been my most prized possession, the one thing I felt was truly mine.
It had taken me years to steal enough for a new one after Milly busted the one I’d brought home from school. The school had made me pay for it because I broke it.
You break it, you buy it. That’s what the teacher had said, and that’s why it took so long for me to get another of my own. I was too busy trying to pay for the one I’d lost.
The joy that coursed through my body the day I finally bought my used “new” violin was something I would never forget. It was probably the best day of my life until I met my brothers and then Ethan. I cherished her and protected her, took great care to make sure Milly never caught sight of her. I’d spent endless hours busking in crowded subway stations and on sidewalks with her perched on my shoulder. That violin was my friend when I had no one else. My savior when I was lost.
And now she was gone.
Destroyed beyond repair.
I would never again hear the sweet harmony we made together.
A sob caught in my throat, clinging to the rock of hard emotion already trying to choke me. To me, it wasn’t just a violin. It was a piece of my soul.
I turned toward Ethan, and he welcomed me in. Burying my face in his broad chest, I hid my tears and distress from the people I thought could never possibly understand. These stupid tears and emotions probably made me look weak, but I couldn’t push them down.
I mourned for that piece of me that had been taken away. Hell, I would have a physical scar on my head from its final demise forever.
“Your name doesn’t matter.” Ethan soothed me, trying to calm me down.
Another sob escaped, and I pulled back to stare up at him. “She destroyed my violin.”
Understanding melted his gaze, and a rough sound echoed in the back of his throat. “I know,” he crooned, hugging me again. “I know she did.”
“She took everything,” I said, breath hitching. I wrenched back, feeling my eyes flash. “She even tried to take you!”
“She didn’t.” He assured me. “I’m right here.”
Breathing unsteady, I pressed on, words spilling out that I didn’t even know I needed to say. “I know you’re angry I got in the way,” I whimpered as our unfinished conversation bubbled up inside me. “But I couldn’t let her hurt you too. I can live without my sweet violin if I have to, but I could never survive without you.”
Ethan made some comforting sounds, scooping me even closer. I couldn’t even be embarrassed his parents witnessed my outburst because I was still too upset to even comprehend what they were seeing. I had a feeling I might be like this for a little while, fine one moment and unable to process the next.
“I’m not mad, puppy. I promise. I understand why you did that, okay? I’m sorry I was hard on you before. I’m sorry.”
I clutched his shirt tighter, trying to quell my uneven breathing.
“You did so well,” Ethan murmured beside my ear. “You stood up to her for all the awful things she’s done.”
“I couldn’t let her hurt you,” I whispered as his praise soothed my most exposed nerves.
“I know,” he murmured, dragging his hand up and down my spine. “You should go,” Ethan said, reminding me that his parents were still here, that they were seeing me have a breakdown. “I told you this was too much.”
Great. Now they’ll think I’m unstable along with everything else.
“I’m sorry,” I said, voice raspy from emotion.
“Don’t apologize,” Elizabeth implored. “Please. I am so sorry. We just felt it important to come by and tell you this before the DNA results.”
Ethan made a noise.
“We wanted to tell you we accept you no matter what the outcome will be. We felt it might seem more insincere after the results,” Adrian said. “I do hope you are Alexander. God knows my friends deserve to have their son back, but that’s the only reason. We will still accept you as our son’s partner even if you aren’t.”
“Why now?” Ethan asked.
“Honestly, because of last night. Because of the way you leaped in front of our son, Fletcher. We saw everything. How she was threatening you and then turned to Ethan. You didn’t even hesitate. You put yourself in front of him. You took a hit meant for him,” Elizabeth explained.
Adrian picked up right where his wife left off. “It’s very clear that you are a good man, Fletcher. And I… regret the way I spoke to you. I’m an old man set in his ways, but I promise to do better. I am grateful that my son found someone who would go to such great lengths to keep him safe.”
Cupping a hand over my ear, Ethan hissed, “Don’t encourage him.”
“I still heard you,” I retorted.
Ethan lifted his arms so I could sit back, blinking the wetness from my eyes.
“I understand why you did it. I’m not mad, but that doesn’t mean I want you doing it again,” he explained.
My lower lip jutted out.
“Don’t give my son such a hard time, Ethan.” Elizabeth scolded him. “Just look at him.”
Ethan’s eyes flashed up to his mother. “You’re taking his side?”
“Of course!”
I smiled.
“Well, we’ll be going. It’s been quite a day. You two need your rest. If you need anything at all, please call. And let’s have dinner when things settle down.”
Ethan started to get up, but Adrian waved him back. “Just stay there. We can see ourselves out.”
“Mom, Dad?” Ethan said after a few beats of silence. I glanced over the back of the sofa to see the couple turn around.
“Yes?” Adrian asked.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t owe us thanks for doing what parents should do. I apologize it took so much for us to get here.”
Ethan didn’t say anything, but I felt his hand curl into a loose fist at my back.
“Don’t worry about work.” Adrian spoke again. “Take as much time as you need. Work will be there when you’re ready.”
Their exit was punctuated by the quiet latching of the large front door.
We stayed quiet, relaxing into each other for long, blissfully quiet moments.
“I’m sorry I got upset before,” I finally said.
He made a soft sound. “Don’t ever apologize for showing emotion and for not keeping it all bottled up inside. I admire that.”
“But your father probably thinks I’m weak.”
“Maybe if my father was better at showing that he cared, things wouldn’t have come to this point.”
“Do you think he meant what he said?”
“I think so.” Ethan agreed. “But I guess time will tell.”
“Time will tell us a lot of things,” I whispered.
“Mmm.” He agreed. “But the most important thing I already know.”
Pushing up, I stared into his summery blue eyes. “What’s that?”
“How much I will always love you.”
Giddiness rushed me, pooling in my belly and making my heart speed up in rhythm. “Does that mean our love is timeless?”
“A love greater than time and measurable only by fate.�
�
Ethan made me feel as though I’d been asleep in a nightmare but awoke to a fairy tale.
“My prince. My one true love.”
We met halfway, lips melting together in a kiss that belonged in storybooks, but incredibly, this wasn’t a book, and my prince was real.
Epilogue
Ethan
* * *
“Fletcher!” I called, my voice echoing through our home. “You have a delivery!”
The sound of an elephant parading through the house made the delivery man’s eyes go wide under his hat.
The pounding was preceded by a man of less-than-elephant size rushing into the foyer, golden hair flying wildly around his head.
“What is it?” he exclaimed, eyes going wide at the large box sitting at the man’s feet. “That’s for me?”
I pointed to the label on the box. “Says so right here.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t order that.”
“I need someone to sign for it.”
I took the pen to scrawl my signature across the tablet. “Ethan, that’s not mine. You shouldn’t sign.”
“Thank you,” I told the man, ushering him out.
When I turned back, Fletcher was scowling. “I didn’t order that. You should have made him take it back.”
“Maybe it’s a gift.”
His beautiful eyes lit up but then turned suspicious. “It’s probably something weird from our fans.” His suspicion turned to horror. “Or something from our antis!”
Antis was what Fletcher called our haters.
I think he read too many comic books.
But honestly, it was kind of fun to see what would come out of his mouth next.
Since the ball a few weeks ago, our relationship basically went viral. Photos of me kissing him in the middle of the ball spread like wildfire online and then again when someone released photos from the same night when I’d been shielding him on the ground with my body as Milly attacked.
So it wasn’t just the Upper East Side that was buzzing but, in fact, the entire country.
“A modern fairy tale couple,” the press had dubbed us.
Fletcher thought it was romantic, and I thought it was ridiculous. I had to admit, though, it was good for business.
I thought the news of Abbott Group’s heir being gay would hurt the stocks and all our accounts. Sure, we’d lost a few, but we gained more. Abbott Group was applauded for its modern, nondiscriminatory values, and our public image actually rose.
Of course, you couldn’t have a fairy tale without a few villains (aka antis). With Milly in jail for the rest of her life, our villains now consisted of people who disagreed with our type of relationship.
Our type of relationship?
You’d have to ask those tallywackers because, to me, our type of relationship was one of great love, and I frankly saw nothing wrong with that.
“What if it’s a bomb?” Fletcher announced. Pulling out his cell phone, he said, “I’m calling Earth.”
Lunging forward, I snatched the phone out of his hands before he could hit send. “First of all, why would you call Earth if someone sent us a bomb?”
“So he could kill it.”
See what I mean? He’s ridiculous. It was incredibly charming.
It took effort to hide my amused smile, but I succeeded. “If someone mailed us a bomb, I would protect you, not Earth.”
“But I don’t want you to get blown up!”
This was an entirely absurd conversation. “Fletcher, that is not a bomb.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m the one who sent it to you.”
His mouth fell open. “Really?”
“A man tries to send his boyfriend a gift, and he thinks it’s a bomb,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead.
“Gwennie, Daddy sent us a present!” Fletcher called, bouncing over to the box.
The alpha I could not deny that lived inside me flared to life. With it, something hot and nearly uncontrollable took over.
He squealed when my arm snaked around his middle, pulling him away from the box and into my body. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked up, the confusion in his face morphing into sweet vulnerability as he recognized my mood.
“What did you just call me?” I growled.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He tried again. All that came out was a rush of breath.
Whirling, I pinned him to the door, clasping his wrists in one hand and anchoring them above his head. His eyes were surprised, but the desire was there too.
Despite how totally I leaned into him, he arched closer, offering up his body, rubbing along me like a giant cat.
“Be a good boy and say it again,” I demanded.
His body vibrated against mine. Desperation started to creep into his hazy expression. “Daddy.”
I crushed my mouth onto his, the urge to claim so urgent inside me that if I’d been coherent, I might have been scared. Sucking his lower lip into my mouth, I worked it until he whimpered and his knees gave out.
Lifting him, I only went a few steps, carrying him to the table nearby, sitting him down, and tugging off our shirts.
His nipples were already erect when I drew one into my mouth, sucking and nipping at it with my teeth. Arched up into my mouth, his upper body draped over my hand while sinful little moans floated up the stairs to fill our home.
I moved to the other nipple, working it just as thoroughly as my free hand pushed at the waistband of his pants until they fell around his ankles.
Taking advantage of the way his body was offered up, I nibbled and sucked down his torso, swirling my tongue around his belly button before licking across his engorged head.
His body going completely slack, I lowered him onto the cold surface of the table, watching as he barely registered it against his inflamed skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched me with eyes that were narrowed into slits.
As I backtracked across the foyer toward the table I’d tossed my keys on, Fletcher whined, so I pulled off my pants to let him see what was coming back. I was already so hot I practically hurt, so even as I reached into a drawer for the lube I’d stashed, my other hand stroked over my cock, making me shudder.
Fletcher reached for himself, and I made a noise, stopping him.
“No you don’t, puppy,” I declared, going back to fit between his legs. Slapping both hands on the table on either side of him, I claimed every ounce of his attention. “You will come on my cock and my cock alone.”
“Please,” he whispered, arching up.
Oh, how I wished I could just sink right in, but I would never be that kind of lover. I would never put my urges before his comfort, so I took my time, stretching him open with my fingers and the lube.
When he was dripping and stretched, I grabbed his ankles, sliding him across the table until his body bumped mine.
I thought about flipping him over, taking him from behind, but in that moment, I wanted to see him. I wanted every noise he made, every expression that flickered over his face. I was greedy and possessive, and I wanted every last detail of him I could get.
Both of us groaned when I pushed in with a single thrust. His legs that had been hanging off the table locked around my hips, and his hands reached for mine.
Instead of giving in, I captured his wrists again, pinning them over his head, laying him out on display beneath me like he was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
My hips snapped forward, and he cried out, moaning in delight at the way I hit his perfect spot.
“More,” he panted, heels digging into my back.
I set a punishing pace, pushing us both hard and fast to the edge, then backing off just a little to keep us teetering in place.
“Please,” he begged, wiggling his wrists to try and get free.
“Please what?” I growled, bending over to nip at his lips.
Turning his head to the side, Fletcher rose to brush against my ear. “Please, daddy. Please let me come.�
�
I let go of his wrists at once to grab his hips and thrust into him with ferocity. “Come for me, puppy,” I demanded as his eyes rolled back in his head. The beginning of his bliss was all it took to push me over, and we both hit climax together.
When I finally came back from wherever I had spiraled, I smiled at the ribbons of pearly white decorating his belly and chest and a boy who looked completely blissed out.
“You,” he panted, “have a total daddy kink.”
I growled. “Keep saying that word and you won’t walk for a week.”
“Tempting, but I already can’t feel my legs.”
Chuckling, I peeled him off the table to take him into the bathroom so we could clean up.
He was still wobbly when we were done but insisted on opening his present. So he sat on the stairs, and I put the box in front of him.
“What is it?” he asked, eyes sparkling, cheeks still flushed from our romp.
I cut the tape off the top and then gestured for him to look inside. Honestly, I couldn’t wait until Christmas because Fletcher was pure joy in everything he did. I could hand him a pair of socks, and he would rip at the paper and coo enthusiastically as though he’d never seen anything better.
Paper and bubble wrap went flying, decorating the floor and the stairs.
“Ahh!” he exclaimed, looking up from inside.
I smiled.
Diving back in, he tugged out the contents, which were fairly large. “You got me a Spider-Man!” he yelled, holding out the statue to stare at the red and blue hero.
“Well, you said you thought Julius Cesar was creepy.”
Gasping, he looked over at the table we’d just had sex on, realizing the statue was no longer there. “Hey, where’d that old guy go?”
“I told him to find somewhere else to live. We need room for Spidey.”
On wobbly legs, he navigated around the packaging, carrying the statue over to the table. Fletcher perched it in the center, then stepped back to admire the view.
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