by Laura Kenyon
Penny felt as if she’d just been offered a spa vacation. The thought of sharing torturous chitchat with Letitia, Logan and—on the off chance he actually showed up—his big brother Carter was more than she could take right now.
Half-finished coffees in hand, they immediately hailed a lime green taxi and began brainstorming what delicacy the castle chef should cook for them.
“Aaron isn’t expecting us,” Cindy said, “but he won’t mind. He’s been a complete ghost lately anyway. Always rushing around trying to keep his brats in line.”
Penny gasped. “Brats? Your kids are angels!”
“I was actually talking about Parliament.” Cindy laughed. “Though I don’t know if I’d say angels.”
Penny smiled. As they rolled through Capitol Park—a renowned gathering spot for sunbathers, artists, kite-flyers, inline skaters, you-name-it—she felt her mood brightening. Cindy’s castle, the most awe-inspiring architectural creation she’d ever seen, sat plunk in the center of this urban oasis. Nestled between two lakes, it had magnificent stone turrets stretching into the clouds and was always covered with ivy, flowers, winter berries, or holiday lights. Back home, Carpale Castle was the ultimate symbol of freedom. Penny had first seen it on a crumbled page clipped from a foreign magazine, hidden among her baby things.
As the cab rolled through the gates, Cindy decided on grilled salmon with lemon butter, asparagus salad, and mushroom risotto. Despite hating mushrooms, Penny nodded and stared into the night—taking in every tower, every archway, every gleaming window, every beautiful woman with her face inches from Cindy’s husband. She went rigid. The cab slowed outside the front entry and halted before a line of royal guards.
“Out we go,” Cindy chirped. “I can already taste that risotto.”
Penny didn’t budge. Nearly all of the castle windows were lit, but for some reason Penny’s eyes had come to rest on one. On the fourth floor, where the King’s private office sat between the meeting hall and Angus Kane’s secretary, she saw Aaron leaning over a tiny woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. She was holding a goblet and pressing her fingers to her chest as if whatever he was saying was the most moving thing she’d ever heard. Penny’s heart thudded against her ribs as she watched the girl lift up her sleek dark locks and slink in front of Aaron like she was on a ledge and he was the wall. Rather than move away, he pivoted to be in perfect line with her and stroked the tattoo on the back of her neck. She shivered. They both laughed.
“Pen, come on,” Cindy urged as Aaron drew a thick strand of jewels around the woman’s neck. “You’ll forget about the peas after food.”
What was she supposed to say? After Belle, she couldn’t take another broken marriage—especially not this one. Penny felt a brief temptation to tack on a fake smile, hop through the door, and enjoy her girls’ night in peace. But Cindy deserved better, so she stayed.
The woman with the tattoo was talking now, waving her hands around and bursting with smiles as Aaron beamed back. Penny felt a tickle beside her shoulder and smelled Cindy’s blackberry perfume. Nearly a full minute later, she heard a sharp exhale and realized her friend had been holding her breath.
“On second thought,” Penny murmured. “Maybe I should just go home now.”
Cindy continued staring but gave a tiny nod.
“That’s probably a good idea. I’m not really hungry anymore.”
Chapter Six
BELLE
Belle scooted up the stairs two by two and slammed the bathroom door with her entire body. Headlines flashed through her mind in thick, block letters. Royal Rupture. Beauty Breaks the Beast. Happily Ever After Crashes and Burns.
Rapunzel’s phone had rung so many times in the past thirty-four hours that she’d unplugged it and hurled it towards the reporters trying to bribe her neighbors for access to the building. Thankfully, the penthouses were accessible only by key card, and helicopters weren’t permitted to fly over Carpale.
As the water pounded into the tub, she tried to force Rapunzel’s theory about the “magic booty call rings” out of her mind. She’d lost enough. But it wasn’t impossible. Her ring had come from somewhere. What’s to say Donner didn’t have more?
He’d left her no choice.
Before she could change her mind, Belle grabbed her phone and began dialing. It rang through to voicemail.
“Hello. You’ve reached Marshall at Overlook Investigations,” a voice said as a spyglass appeared on the screen.
Belle had used the private investigator a while back to find the child Sheridan gave up years ago. She’d never actually met him, or even seen him (in his line of work, it was prudent not to use video during his calls), but she believed Marshall was a good man who would want to help her out.
“We specialize in reconnecting loved ones and finding lost things,” the message continued.
Belle wasn’t sure he’d take a job like this. Heck, she wasn’t even sure what the job was—except, at the end of the day, saving a marriage.
She drafted a quick message in her head and waited for his voicemail to end. She would tell him that she’d lost some of her rings—or, no, that her husband had accidentally given some of her rings away … to an undetermined number of women. Ha, like that sounded honest. Could she just say she needed some snooping done because her husband was sneaking around with a bunch of hussies and she wanted to know how many? Not for revenge, but so she could keep them quiet and get her husband back. That was a noble task, right?
“Please leave your number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Hi!’ Belle chirped. “Umm. I’ve worked with you before and I trust you and I really, really need your help. Please call me back as soon as you can.”
Belle let the recording continue a few seconds longer, hoping he’d feel her desperation in the silence. Then she hung up. She’d forgotten to leave her name, her number, or any real details about the job. But if it was meant to be, he’d get her number off the call log.
As she slipped off her dress and into a warm world of bubbles, she went over the plan in her head. First the rings, then the harlots, then she’d tell Donner about the baby and everything would be fine. He would beg her to come home and today’s headlines would be nothing more than tomorrow’s ash. Everything was going to be fine.
Chapter Seven
CINDERELLA
“You’re home early,” Cindy’s stepsister Grace observed from the floor while a blur of hollering children raced around her pounding aluminum mixing bowls. “I told them you’d play the damsel in distress tomorrow.”
Cindy’s chin bobbed slightly as she floated past, ignoring Grace’s questioning stare and deflecting demands to “Look at me, Mommy!” Nothing was in focus, but she could find her way around the royal apartment blindfolded if she had to. It’s not like her life expanded far beyond its walls, after all.
The twenty-foot march past the kitchen, between the clothing-strewn couches, and into the bathroom felt like a mile. But when it ended she had privacy, a muffling towel, cold water, and the most unforgiving fluorescent light she’d ever stood beneath. Grabbing the sink from both sides, she leaned over the gurgling faucet and stared into herself—clueless as to what she wanted to see.
Of all the things she’d worried about over the years—her in-laws and pregnancy weight and baseless bouts of self-pity—Aaron’s loyalty was never even a blip on the radar. If anyone’s strength in the face of temptation was to be questioned, it would have been hers—more due to boredom and self-loathing than any lack of devotion to her husband. She never imagined him as anything but honorable. Suddenly, her “better half” was plummeting from his horse and dragging her entire world down with him. Was there something in the air causing Marestam husbands to lose their minds?
Staring into the mirror, Cindy tried to breathe slowly, keeping pace to the only tune she knew well enough to push through the muck—her youngest son Gregory’s favorite nursery rhyme: The Queen of Hearts, she made so
me tarts, all on a summer’s day …
Cindy’s neck slowly lost its splotches and the pillows beneath her eyes deflated a bit.
The knave of hearts, she stole the tarts …
If she could just keep her breathing steady and not let her voice quiver.
And took them clean aw—
“Hey, Cin?” Grace’s voice rose at the end as if her very name was in question— which, in a way, it was. Her whole existence was on the chopping block. “Are you okay in there?”
Cindy heard the door shift against its frame and knew she was inches away behind a thin slab of wood. She shot her reflection a panicked look as the walls of her throat clapped shut. “Fine,” she warbled over the running water. “Just want to freshen up. You know how grimy I feel after going downtown.”
Grace’s lack of immediate response told Cindy she was still standing there, hovering over the knob and waiting for a more satisfactory answer. Now that her older, more vile stepsister was living outside Marestam, Cindy and Grace shared everything with each other. Free from Priya’s storm cloud, they’d finally come to love each other as if they really shared the same blood. But crap, why couldn’t she be a better liar right now?
“Really Grace, I’m fine,” she insisted, struggling to keep her voice bright but not suspiciously bouncy. “Be out in a few. I know you’ve been babysitting all afternoon, but would you mind taking the kids downstairs for some dessert?”
“Sure. But Sophie’s been waiting to ask you something first.”
“Mom?” The pipsqueak voice of her nine-year-old daughter brought all of Cindy’s emotions back up to a bursting point. Even with the door between them, she could see her face—her innocent, round face with Aaron’s hopeful blue eyes and Cindy’s golden hair. Unless Aaron had a spectacular explanation, his actions were going to damage a lot more than just their marriage. “You said you’d help me with my family tree report. It’s due next week. Dad helped me with GaMa and Grampy Charmé, but I need more about your side.”
Cindy had to press down on her neck as she replied, but somehow managed to assure her daughter that she hadn’t forgotten about the report. She wanted to ask how Sophie managed to nail her dad down long enough to quiz him on family history, but she didn’t trust her voice. “It’s almost bedtime now,” she said instead. “So you go get some ice cream with Aunt Grace, and we can spend all afternoon tomorrow working on it. Okay?”
There was a weak murmur of agreement and within a few minutes, silence. Cindy watched the mixture of water and tears drain down the porcelain sink and wondered if she deserved this. By ignoring her family and racing off on a scavenger hunt that didn’t really matter, maybe she’d brought this upon herself. Maybe she’d secretly blamed Aaron every time the simpler life looked better. Maybe—
A new thought surfaced. Maybe THAT woman could fit into my ball gown.
The idea lit a fire in her belly. That woman—no, that girl—would probably look ravishing in her dress. Could Aaron love her? Did Cindy still have a chance? Did she want one? She thought briefly about calling Ruby. After all, her fairy godmother had brought her and Aaron together. She owed half her fame to Cindy’s marriage. Perhaps she knew of some spell or charm that would make everything okay again.
Cindy reached for her phone, then paused and grabbed a towel instead. She covered it with cold water, pressed it beneath her eyes, and took a deep breath. Guilt. Fear. Anger. She was tumbling off the edge of sanity and into an ocean of “what ifs.” She needed to grab hold of something strong enough to hold her back.
Vodka. Vodka would do just fine.
The bar in the corner of the living room offered a block of extra dark chocolate and an unopened bottle of Belvedere. The booze had to be three years old and loaded with calories but infidelity was a special occasion. Plus, if she ignored the chocolate and put orange juice in the vodka, it would almost be healthy. She got in two sips before Aaron floated through the door with a massive grin on his flushed face. His hair, usually neat as a freshly chopped wheat field, looked suspiciously tousled.
“Hi beautiful,” he sang, straddling the arm of the sofa and leaning down to kiss her forehead. Cindy shivered as a line of stubble tickled her skin. “Grace said you were home early.” His eyes lingered on her glass. “Something wrong?”
She focused everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Then she remembered how he replied when she’d asked him the same question a few days ago. “Why does something have to be wrong? Can’t a girl just come home early to see her loving husband?”
Aaron’s face slanted as he backed off and began to settle in for the night. She watched his every move like a lion stalking its prey. Coffee mug by the sink. Tie on the armchair. Shirt untucked. Shoes by the door. She cocked her head when he unearthed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet. Lately, Aaron had been working far too late to have a nightcap. But then again, she had just seen him drinking wine with a strange woman.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually done for the night,” she said.
“You sound like that’s a bad thing.” He sank into the middle cushion, which pushed Cindy up and slid her against his hips. He raised his arm behind her and sighed. “All the budgets came in today. So until the committees read through them and start their inevitable bickering, that’s done.”
“Is that the only thing that’s been keeping you so busy?”
Aaron laughed. He’d missed the accusation behind her question. “There are always projects and questions and complaints that need my attention. But there’s also a wife. And I owe her a few hours of reminiscing.” He nuzzled his chin into her hair. He smelled like sugar cookies, as usual. But there was also a bit of lavender around the edges.
She dove into her drink and cleared her throat. “Well, Penny and I had an interesting day. We went to the Hall of Curiosities, had lunch at the Golden Bird, searched for some peas. Long story. What did you do today?”
“Besides the budget?”
“Yep.”
“Not much.” His fingers were stroking her hair now. “Nothing noteworthy.”
Cindy was on the verge of combusting. “Meet anyone interesting?”
Aaron paused as if deep in thought. “Nope. No one worth mentioning.”
“What did you do for dinner?”
His fingers jerked to a stop for a split second, then continued stroking. “Just took some stew to my office. You sure you’re okay, hun?”
Trust me, she thought, I’m as okay as I can be at the moment.
“Just tired.” She closed her eyes and nestled into the nook between his chin and shoulder. It usually fit her like a therapeutic pillow, but now seemed off-kilter and lumpy. “I can’t stop thinking about poor Belle. I just don’t get why Donner would throw everything away like that. She saved his life and she’s been nothing but devoted. What was he thinking?”
Her hair rustled in Aaron’s sigh. “Some men are idiots. They lose track of what they have and—”
“Lose track? They’re newlyweds compared to us!”
“Well, Donner’s not exactly the most focused—”
“She was so happy. She had all these plans and now—” Cindy clenched her jaw and swallowed. “She’s going to lose everything.”
Aaron hugged her close. She wanted to punch him and melt into him at the same time.
“It’s a sad situation,” he said. “Belle didn’t deserve that, and no one wants to lose her. Unfortunately, Donner’s of the royal line so unless they make up …” He dazed off in thought for a long moment and then shook his head. “But she’ll always be the people’s queen even without a title. They know who she is and what she did to break his curse. At least she doesn’t have kids to worry about. It would be hard to give her custody when the other option is a castle.” A giant, imaginary nutcracker clamped on to Cindy’s head. The pain was excruciating, and it pulsed straight into her heart. “That would be much harder for her. But that’s just how it goes with monarchies.”
Cindy yanked herself straight. “We
ll that’s not fair! We should just become a full republic if that’s how it is. Let the people of Braddax decide who they want as their glorified mascot. That’s all most of us are anyway—cheerleaders with crowns. Except for you, of course.”
“I do what I can.” By his tone, Cindy could tell he’d taken her swipe as a compliment, and was being infuriatingly tolerant of her outrageous suggestion. “But do you really mean that about getting rid of the monarchies? You’re not the first person to propose it.”
No, she didn’t really mean it. But her voice was certainly angry enough to be convincing. She drained her glass dry. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Well, maybe I can help,” he said, running his fingers behind her neck and trying to settle her back against him. “I’ve only got one thing on my mind at the moment.”
She felt the walls closing in as he tried to reel her in, tracing her with extreme caution but certain she’d eventually succumb. The base of her stomach fluttered. The passion building inside of her was explosive. Soon, she was either going to whip around and smother him with kisses, or wallop him with accusations. Then the door opened and four kids on a sugar high rushed in.
Suddenly, Cindy had a million unnecessary things to do: watch them all brush their teeth, tuck them in, fetch extra glasses of water, read bedtime stories, check for monsters, prepare tomorrow’s school lunches, scrub their backpacks clean, help Sophie with her family tree report.
“Can’t you do that tomorrow?” Aaron asked as he perched in their bed, waiting. Sophie was sound asleep by now, but he didn’t have to know that.
“I really can’t,” she lied. “Sophie’s been counting on me. But you should use your night off to get a decent sleep. That’s important too.”
His upper lip puffed out for a moment, but he gave an understanding nod. She almost walked off without so much as a kiss goodnight, but he reached for her hand before she could get out of range. Hesitantly, she leaned in to peck his forehead. A quick move put his lips there instead, drowning her in a kiss so passionate she had to lean against the bedpost for support.