Based on Principal
Fanboys Book 3
Marie Johnston
LE Publishing
Based on Principal
Copyright 2018 by Lisa Elijah
Developmental and Copy Editing by Razor Sharp Editing
Proofing by HME Editing
Cover by The Killion Group
The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental and unintentional.
Created with Vellum
By day, Natalia is the strict principal of a private school with a staid, troubled legacy. By night, she’s a lithe, agile assassin with a penchant for latex. Or at least her cosplay character is. The two identities don’t mingle until she meets a handsome comic book shop owner at the local comic con. Now there’s a guy she’d be willing to peel her mask off for.
Too bad he’s the father of one of her students.
Single father Chris has no time to date, thanks to his business, his daughter, and his ex’s meddling family. But how can he resist a comic lover in a business skirt? She’s his perfect woman. Or she would be, if she didn’t keep the professional and play parts of her life so separate. And he swore he’d never date a woman ashamed of him again.
Too bad she’s obsessed with what the wrong people think of her.
Together, they could be an unstoppable duo, but when Chris’s daughter acts out at school, Natalia will be put in an impossible position: break all her school’s rules, or pack away her cape forever.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
Also by Marie Johnston
To the hubs.
You prove to me every day that I’m not exaggerating when I write romance and stories with happily ever afters.
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Chapter 1
“Well, if DC Comics could make a solid movie, there wouldn’t be so much complaining. It’s not so much a DC versus Marvel thing as it is a long, boring movie thing.”
Chris Halliwell lifted his brow at the woman. Could she even be classified as a woman? She wore a costume that highlighted every curve, but her face looked all of eighteen. Since this was the Twin Cities Comic Con, she could be anywhere from fourteen to thirty-four. And dressed in skintight black vinyl and a red wig, she showcased the Marvel Universe fan craze. Her boyfriend sported a sleeveless black shirt, black tactical pants, and boots. He carried a bow and an empty quiver—no arrows with heightened security these days. They blended with the crowd of homemade cosplay costumes and Party City purchases.
Do not engage. But Chris couldn’t let it go. “I don’t know if it’s so much the quality of the DC movies that’s the issue.” Which were excellent. Could they have been better? Yes. But did they deserve the many hours he spent defending them? A resounding no. “Marvel came out with some lesser characters and made them larger than life and hugely popular. But anyone old enough to walk was raised on Batman and Superman. They have their own ideas about what each one should be like, and they don’t like their heroes messed with. Putting Henry Cavill in a blue skin suit with no red underwear on the outside was deeply upsetting for some.”
At the actor’s name, the girl’s eyes glazed with dreamy desire. So she was, what, twenty to twenty-five? His fourteen-year-old daughter lost focus when he started discussing movies because she had zero interest in someone who wasn’t young enough to be in a boy band.
The woman’s saccharine smile grated. “At least they didn’t put nipples on Iron Man’s suit.”
Always with Batman’s nipples in Batman and Robin. That was an unfortunate rendition Chris never tried defending—and never confessed to enjoying.
The guy with the DC hater spoke, apparently needing to defend his own geek knowledge. It was probably very little, since Chris had never seen the guy shop at Arcadia, his comic book shop. “Who is that poster of anyway? Some knockoff of Batman?”
Chris bristled. He made an effort to represent both major comic book universes equally, but not always with the box office headliner heroes. “No, he’s a superhero in his own right.”
“Who’s that?” the girl asked, derision clear in her voice.
Why were they at his booth in the first place? Just to diss his display? He and Mara had run a booth at the local comic con since they’d opened shop, back when Arcadia used to be solely hers. When it had been shut down, he’d cashed in his IRA and proposed a partnership.
Here they were, bigger than last year, their booth gaining in popularity. But Mara and her husband were left to handle fans and customers while Chris dealt with insults. He didn’t care why people dressed up or who they dressed as, but he wouldn’t tolerate asshats putting down other fans.
He was about to explain who Nightwing was—how could he not?—when a woman beat him to it. “Why don’t you watch Teen Titans and see if you still have questions?”
Chris’s heart slammed against his ribs. He wouldn’t mind that voice lecturing him all night long.
Unlike the girl with the unsavory attitude, this stranger was all woman. Dressed in a skin-hugging maroon suit that revealed a tight body and mouthwatering curves, she stood with her hands on her hips, like a real superhero who’d just landed and was assessing the situation. Her pitch-black hair was obviously a wig, but better quality than what they sold in Arcadia. The mask covering half her face let his imagination wander about the extent of her beauty, but her pursed lips and strong chin were stern and sexy—especially because she wasn’t putting up with the couple trashing comic book fans.
“Why would I do that?” the girl asked, her tone snotty.
“Because you’ll find out who Nightwing is and can come to your own conclusions about what you think instead of bowing to popular opinion.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “What are you supposed to be anyway, or am I supposed to read that somewhere, too?”
The stunner in maroon smiled and kicked a hip out. “I am my own creation. Valaria the Assassin at your service.”
Chris grinned. Normally he didn’t mind the questions, the discussions, or even the arguments. He relished them. It was the tone of this couple he couldn’t stand. And Valaria the Assassin had slain it.
“You do you,” the girl said and towed her guy away from the booth.
Chris heaved a sigh of relief and met Valaria’s gaze. Her eyes were such a dark brown that they had to be contacts. She embodied her deadly character from head to toe, except for her grin. Whoa…was that a dimple peeking out from under her mask? Valaria went from deadly sexy to adorable with a few facial muscles.
“I hate that phrase,” she said, but she was still smiling.
He’d forgotten everything before looking at her. “What phrase?”
“‘You do you.’ It’s been twisted into a coward’s way out of an argument by hurling the ball into the other person’s court without giving them a chance to take a shot.”
He blinked, unprepared for the depth of conversation. They’d gone from discussing a superhero to society’s tendency to shun conflict. And his daughter said “you do you” at least once a day.
“Yeah. Totally agree.” He had no clue what he was agreeing to, only that he did
n’t want Valaria to leave. A glance down the booth revealed they were in a lull. A new round of workshops had started and taken a load of attendees off the show floor. Mara was chatting with one of their regulars, and her husband was getting drooled over by a gaggle of scantily clad girls.
Valaria followed his gaze. “Does he need saving, too?” She cocked her head, the ends of her long black hair brushing her breasts. “Maybe not. The girls look ready to meltdown.”
“Nah. That’s my business partner next to him. She likes to watch her husband suffer.”
Valaria’s lips quirked. “Do they always dress like a superhero pair?”
“Yes. I told them they should start doing hero and nemesis.”
The tinkle of Valaria’s laugh was almost lost in the din of the room. People had filtered out, but it didn’t take much for noise to echo off the walls and ceiling.
Valaria leaned over the table to scowl at his jeans and gray Henley. “Do you dress up?”
“I had to make do with a poster.” He gestured to the one the couple had been teasing him about. “It was a rough morning.”
He’d told Jaycee to wash his costume, and she’d tossed it into the dryer on high heat. He’d have to regress to prepubescence if he ever wanted to fit into it again.
“A rough morning is a sign of unpreparedness.” The light note in her tone took the bite out of her words.
“Or of having a teenage daughter.”
She laughed again. “I don’t have kids, but I work at— Are you married, too?”
Her abrupt change in course took him off guard and spurred unwelcome memories of Jaycee’s mother. If he’d had his wish, he would’ve tied the knot long ago. “I haven’t had the pleasure. You?”
“No, I usually scare my dates off long before the marriage stage.”
He laughed. “You or Valaria?”
Her chuckle was just as easy, like they hadn’t cut to the chase on their attraction: You married? No, you? Nope. Wanna date?
Well, they hadn’t gotten that far, but he wanted to. Valaria was too interesting to let disappear into the myriad of anime characters and superheroes wandering around.
“If I don’t, whipping out the Valaria outfit usually does. It’s hard to find a guy who gets the whole cosplay thing.”
“Ditto on the dating side. Or I find someone a little too zealous. I own a comic book shop and I usually dress the part for comic cons, but I don’t wash dishes or clean the bathroom with my cape on.”
“You’re doing it wrong, then.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. I’ll try it next time.”
She smiled and even through her dark contacts, her eyes twinkled. “Does your daughter join in on the fun?”
Wasn’t that a whole different topic. “She used to. And she’s out of the worst of her ‘God, Dad, you’re so embarrassing stage,’ but she’s moved on to the fiercely independent stage.” And the guy she liked wasn’t a fanboy, so she was shunning all things masks and secret identities these days.
He hoped she got over that stage quickly. He wanted his fun-loving, quick-witted daughter back, not the stiff girl who felt the eyes of the world judging her.
“In my experience, if it doesn’t have an ROI, it’s not worth doing for some teens. And the incentive isn’t always monetary.”
He considered her words. Valaria was right. He’d asked, but he hadn’t thought of the comic book shop as a form of employment. Arcadia was his. He’d given up his other career for Jaycee. Was he expecting father-daughter time to be enough of a benefit to entice Jaycee to work at Arcadia?
Valaria glanced around. “Any other booths you recommend? I’ve never been to this comic con before. None of the current workshops interest me, but I don’t want to leave yet.”
He didn’t want her to leave either. The crowd had filtered out, and Mara and Wes were next to each other with their heads bent in together, probably discussing how the morning had gone. Chris and Mara would talk later, but they both valued Wes’s business insight.
Chris’s stomach grumbled. “Have you been to the food trucks?” When she shook her head, he jumped at the chance. “Want to grab a bite?”
“If you’re certain I won’t poison you. It’s one of my methods, you know.”
“Since I’m an ordinary guy today, it depends on you. Villain or hero?”
“Everyone thinks I’m a villain, but I’m really the hero, taking out what they don’t know is bad for them.” Her lips quirked.
Sounded like being a dad. He turned to Mara. “Hey, you two mind if I take an hour?”
Mara’s gaze jumped from him to Valaria. Wes’s brow cocked in a you go, bro way. “Wes and I can handle it.”
Chris didn’t have anything to bring with so he skirted around the booth. He and Valaria walked to the show floor’s exit.
“So, what’s your name?”
She peeked up at him. Her mask molded to her face. It was quality crafted, like the rest of her suit. Like the rest of the body underneath it. “I was just going to be Valaria today, but I’ll make an exception for you. Natalia, and Valaria really will kill you if you call me Nat.”
“Natalia.” The name was as unearthly gorgeous as she was. What was her real hair color? Her brows were penciled in dark despite being mostly covered by the mask. It showed her level of dedication to her costume. Where had she purchased it? “Natalia? Were your parents…?”
“Marvel fans? Most definitely not. Black Widow is nothing more than a spider to my father.”
“Mine aren’t into this stuff either. I got into it because they were always working and I watched TV and read comics.”
“Ah, the most popular babysitter ever: television.” Again, her tone was light as she touched on another deep topic. What did this woman do for a living? “Rather, the most popular of our day. Now it’s the smartphone.”
“Yeah, but I’ve had better luck trusting electronics than some of the babysitters I’ve hired in the past.”
Laughter burst from Valaria. “I believe it.”
The greasy smells of tacos in a bag and deep-fried cheese curds wafted down the hall. Beyond the propped-open doors, a section of the parking lot had been roped off for a variety of food trucks. Valaria didn’t look like a funnel cake girl, but he was hungry enough to gnaw on a turkey leg all afternoon.
“This is like a street fair.” Valaria gaped at the multicolored trailers and tents.
“Pick your poison. Thai, Greek, Midwestern…Renaissance.”
She giggled and clasped her hands together. “This is fabulous. Whose idea was it combine a comic con with a food truck fair?”
She was asking rhetorically, but he was actually on the planning committee. He could mention it, but he didn’t want to come off as boasting. Most of the time, he was grateful one of his ideas panned out, but her awe didn’t stop his pride from swelling to superhuman size.
“Whatcha in the mood for?” He couldn’t help how his gaze dipped to her mouth. He was hungry but looking at how her body moved in that latex outfit could satiate him for a few hours.
With her mask, he could hardly tell if her brows arched, but the corners of her lips lifted. Not a full smile, but close enough to keep him from being mortified. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away.
“I didn’t come here for the company or the food, but I think I’m pleased with how both have turned out.” She went back to scanning the food trucks. “A gyro sounds like it won’t clog my arteries after two bites.”
He spotted the vendor offering Greek fare. “I’ll join you. I’ve never had one.”
“I’ve had one in Greece. Never from a parking lot,” she said wryly and started for the truck.
“I would love to travel someday.” They got in a line three people deep. The workshops hadn’t ended yet, otherwise the wait would be twenty minutes or more just to order. “I was technically a kid when my daughter was born and any extra cash went to her and her mother.”
When he’d finally had the funds to travel,
Jaycee’s mother had decided she couldn’t handle being a mom, and he’d been promoted to full-time dad. He’d quit his lucrative job to find something where he could be around for his daughter.
“I’ve traveled my entire life. It came with my family, I guess.” She hadn’t said what her last name was. What would go with Natalia? “Oh my god, they make their own flatbread? How have I not known about this place?”
They reached the window and put in their order. She extracted some cash from a well-concealed pocket before motioning to him to add his order onto hers.
“Are you sure?” He’d never had a date pay before, but he hadn’t been on a date in…too long. Since he’d always been the one asking, he’d always paid, and technically, he’d asked today, too.
She waved his concern off. “I think I can a spare a twenty.”
He didn’t protest and added his order. They moved to the side to wait for their food with the people who’d ordered before them.
A chance meeting had morphed into a pseudodate. He could get used to this. “You saved me earlier, now you’re buying my food. You’re gonna think I’m taking advantage of you.”
“You don’t strike me as that type of guy. Valaria has a good sense of character.”
When their food was ready, they made their way to one of the picnic tables set up on the far end of the parking lot. The convention center blocked any wind, the sun was out, and even though it was October, the temperatures were mild. Sweater weather—or skintight maroon latex weather.
As they ate, they people watched, discussing costumes and outfits and guessing at the origins of the more unique cosplay characters. Like him, Natalia had watched every episode of Face Off. Her laughter was one of the best sounds he’d ever heard. Given the heavy topics she’d touched on earlier and the way she would clear her throat and stare down at her plate after a giggle, he suspected she didn’t laugh often. It was like her mirth caught her off guard.
Based on Principal: Fanboys Book 3 Page 1