by Honor James
Mischievous Fairy Tales 5
Sleeping Beau
Sent to live away from his birth parents at a young age, Quinn Brodie-McKaughan wanted for nothing. He has a career that lets him see the world even if it’s strenuous and, at times, harsh. But everything is nearly taken away one fateful night when his car is sent careening off the road and he’s left in a coma. One that he might never awaken from.
Susan Ellington was the therapist hired to work with Quinn. What she never expected was to fall in love with a man she’s never even spoken with. Even worse—she fell in love with Quinn’s best friend Jordan as well.
When Susan gets fired and Quinn mysteriously awakens, Jordan Connors has the task of tracking down the woman he knows is the key to his future happiness. Not all that surprisingly his best friend feels the same way. Now all they have to do is convince her that happily ever afters do exist.
Genre: Contemporary, Fairy Tales/Myths, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 55,712 words
SLEEPING BEAU
Mischievous Fairy Tales 5
Honor James
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
SLEEPING BEAU
Copyright © 2014 by Honor James
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-001-6
First E-book Publication: December 2014
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
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www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
To all the story lovers out there, to the ones that always look for their next read this book is for you.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
About the Author
SLEEPING BEAU
Mischievous Fairy Tales 5
HONOR JAMES
Copyright © 2014
Prologue
Not every fairy tale has an evil witch, a wicked stepmother, or a vile conquering figure to defeat. Some fairy tales merely have circumstances that come into play to create the perfect scenario of events that lead to a happily ever after. But every fairy tale has a man and a woman at its core. A prince and a princess, a hero and a fair maiden, a savior and the one to be saved.
Our story begins a number of years ago, with a young couple hoping for a child. But their hopes and prayers went unanswered for a very long time, for even with all the money they had, some things could not be bought. Finally though they were blessed and they welcomed into their life a baby of their very own.
The child was uncommonly beautiful, dark raven hair, the palest blue of eyes, and a laugh that warmed all who heard it. But with a position of power and wealth came enemies that would do anything to see them fall. And so, this young couple did all they could to protect their only child in any way they could. They changed the babe’s name so there would never be any association with them, putting the child into the care of another trusted soul and watching from afar as the child grew up.
They knew, one day, that they would have to tell the child who they truly were. Not just benefactors but the ones who had brought such a bright light into the world. That day approaches all too soon as tragedy strikes...
Chapter One
January 3rd, 2012 - Paris, France
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he let out a breath. Butterflies were doing loop-de-loops in his gut, always the same, no matter how many times he did this. Fisting and unfisting his hands, he shook out his arms.
Rolling his head around on his shoulders, he let out a slow breath. He could hear the coordinator counting down, the crowd was still chattering loud even with the music playing to fill the void. They’d keep talking until his foot hit the stage and he walked out. Only then would the talking fall silent and the murmurs begin.
He knew where to stay focused so he didn’t throw up. Oh, the urge was there, it likely always would be there. But he could do this and he’d get through it just fine, he always did.
“Quinn,” he heard his name hissed out.
Nodding, he moved into place and paused for the final check and spritz in preparation. Moving into place behind the curtain he dropped his chin to his chest and counted in time with the coordinator. The lights dimmed, the voices fell to a hush and then the music changed smoothly from a calming ballad to the hardcore music he knew and loved.
“Go!” the coordinator hissed.
The curtains were wrenched back and the spotlight hit him. Lifting his chin, he gave his signature look over the crowd before focusing on one spot and strutting his stuff out onto the stage. Moving to the heavy beat of the music he reached the e
dge and stopped dead, feet braced apart. Cocking a hip he flashed a smirking grin at the ladies in the front row before shifting onto his other foot and cocking that hip.
A quick wink to the crowd and he spun to strut his way back up the stage. And then he was out of sight and racing through the madhouse to change. Oh, the life of a male model was definitely all glamour.
* * * *
July 12th, 2012 - Los Angeles, USA
He fucking hated these damned parties. But, the fashion house and his agent both insisted he attend them for at least a short time. Discreetly checking his watch as he lifted his glass of juice to his lips he nearly groaned into the guava juice. He still had to be there another half hour. He’d never survive.
Smiling slightly at the man he was supposed to be talking to he looked past him and faked a look of shock and pleasure. He excused himself as gently as he could with the equally fake excuse that he’d just spotted someone he hadn’t seen in too long and just had to speak with.
Making a getaway Quinn quickly found a corner to hide in for a few short minutes. It wouldn’t last long. Either his agent would hunt him down or one of the fashion houses minions would come to remind him that he was to be seen with people, not lurking in the shadows like a gargoyle.
Turning his back to the party he looked out at the view of Los Angeles. It was beautiful at night up in the hills where the noise and corruption couldn’t be heard or seen. The lights sparkled and gave the illusion of a fairy tale, much like those his nanny used to read to him.
Smiling faintly as he thought of the woman who had raised him he let out a breath. He’d always known she wasn’t his mother but she’d been more than that for him growing up. She’d been his mother, his father, his confidante and his best friend. She’d been there to kiss his boo-boos and to help him with his homework.
No, she might not have given birth to him, but she’d been there for everything important. As had “the couple.” He was pretty sure they were his true parents. He didn’t know them and likely couldn’t ever identify them, but he had a gut feeling about them. They were always in shadow at his concerts and other school events, always just far enough away he couldn’t see them clearly, but they were there for everything.
Yet, not once did they ever speak to him or get close enough for him to see them. Quinn had figured out a lot over the years, especially after his first biology class. Things like genetic traits and such told him that Charlotte wasn’t his mother, she was his nanny or whatever you might call a woman not your mother who raised you. That and the fact she was of Spanish descent, at least partially, while he was quite clearly Caucasian all the way through meant she hadn’t given him life.
No, no one had ever mistaken them as mother and son. But everyone had assumed she’d adopted him and, for most intents and purposes, she had.
Once he turned twenty-one though he’d stopped caring. His birth parents were not making any attempts to meet him which meant either they were criminals or had some serious trouble keeping them away from him. Either way, he wouldn’t put their lives at risk, or his own just to find out. He’d survived without them this long, so he could do it for a good while longer.
Finishing the glass of juice he passed it off to a server and headed back into the throng. A little more mingling and then he was out of there. Twenty-five minutes and counting.
* * * *
Thirty-three minutes later…
Sliding behind the wheel of his Ford Mustang, he turned the engine over and gave the reporters one last wave. While he didn’t approve of the paparazzi as a whole, most of those that followed the fashion industry really weren’t too horrid. Most.
Oh but it was good to be out of that bullshit-laced environment. Loosening the tie he’d been forced to don he tossed it into the backseat. Next he popped the top three buttons on his shirt and finally started to relax.
Maybe he’d take a spin up through the hills before he headed home to his apartment. While it wasn’t the biggest place he could get with what he made, it was home when he was back in the States. Quaint he liked to call it, though he knew his friends used other terms, like shoebox. So it was cozy, like he cared. He only ever used it to sleep in and veg out while he was between jobs.
Which was nearly never. His life had been so hectic the last two years this would be the first time he was actually home for more than a day. He had a full two weeks, at his insistence of course, so he could have some downtime. He’d played up the burnout factor and even mentioned retirement. Amazing what his agent would do when those magic words were tossed around.
Grinning at that he turned a corner and looked around. He didn’t know where he was heading just yet but there was lots to look at. After all, it was LA, the land of the weird and bizarre.
Took him a little bit, with that accident he’d had to creep past, but he was finally up in the Hollywood hills. Since it was so late he was able to cruise along a few miles below the speed limit without anyone honking at him. Which was nice, it gave him a chance to look around at everything and just enjoy the quiet of the area.
Or he could until someone came roaring up behind him, their lights on high. Cursing, Quinn moved over to the right to let the asshole pass him. Sticking his arm out the window he waved the driver past. Big-ass SUV more than likely, given the neighborhood.
Unfortunately the driver wasn’t looking to pass. Instead he slammed into the rear end of Quinn’s car. Shocked he grabbed hold of the steering wheel with both hands and held on tight. The larger vehicle hit him again but he was already speeding up. He needed to find someplace to pull into where he could get some help.
Only he never got the chance. Another solid thump to his back bumper and his speedometer began to register a greater speed. Cursing he hit the brakes but that didn’t help and, more than likely, only made things worse.
Before he could figure out what to do next he was tumbling. He and the car were rolling down a hill. And that was the last thing he knew as the sound of twisting metal rang in his ears and the world went black.
Chapter Two
July 14th, 2012 - UCLA Medical Center
The doctor waved the couple into the room. “We were a little surprised to find out Mr. Brodie was your son, sir.” He looked to the gentleman.
“We’ve done a lot to protect him over the years, obviously not enough given the assault he just barely survived,” the man said. His wife was held close to his side, barely holding in tears.
“Understandable, sir.” He nodded. “He has a concussion with some brain swelling,” he explained. When the man’s wife let out a muffled sob he looked to her. “It’s not uncommon but something we will keep a close eye on. Right now we’re more concerned about the internal injuries he’s suffered and the broken bones.”
Moving to the bedside the doctor did a scan of all the equipment before looking to them again. “We’ll be keeping him in a medically induced coma for the next while until the brain swelling goes down and until we’re sure we don’t need to do any more surgeries. He’s comfortable and relaxed, which is how we need him to be,” he continued to explain in a gentle tone.
“We did have to insert a couple of pins into his femur but, with some physical therapy, he’ll walk just fine again though he might have a bit of a limp for the first while or when he’s extremely exhausted.”
“What sort of healing schedule do you figure he might have?” the older man asked quietly, his eyes locked on the man lying still on the bed.
“At this time I couldn’t even begin to speculate but I’d say it would be relatively quick given he’s young, healthy and has no apparent vices of any kind from what we’ve discovered from the various tests and from those that were in his life day to day. Right now though we need to worry about the swelling. Once that goes down I’ll be able to give you a better idea though a lot will solely rest on him.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” the woman finally said. “Would it be all right if we had a moment with our son?”
“Of cou
rse.” He headed for the door. “Take all the time you need and, sir, ma’am—” He paused. “If you have any questions at all, please come directly to me. I’ll answer them to the best of my knowledge and ability.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” The gentleman nodded.
“I’ll let the nurses know to give you some time, Mr. and Mrs. McKaughan.” He smiled slightly and slipped out the door. Easing it shut he just caught the soft sob of a mother in pain.
* * * *
July 21st, 2012
“The swelling has fully subsided enough that we’ll start bringing him out of the coma over the next little bit. He’ll remain on the ventilator, though, until we’re sure that he’s able to breathe on his own. All the tests we’ve done look good, he has no paralysis and, as far as we can tell, all areas of his brain are functioning as they should. Of course, again, we won’t be able to test his memory recall or speech until he’s awake, but all other signs are looking great.”
“Thank you, Doctor Theory,” Mrs. McKaughan said softly.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Her husband shook his hand firmly.
* * * *
July 27th, 2012
“Why isn’t he waking up, Doctor?” Mrs. McKaughan asked, her voice pitched higher than normal in concern and near panic.