Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  If Asher knows what Sterling and I have been up to, he doesn’t let on, which eases my anxiety a little. However, when he kisses her knuckles, I clench my fists, and when her eyes fall to the tattoos decorating his knuckles and wrist and she bites her lip, it amps it up to stroke level.

  I’m not a jealous man by nature, but there’s something about Cyn that draws out the possessive side of me.

  Who knew I even had one?

  Not me, that’s for damn sure.

  I don’t think. I just reach between them and take her hand. “We were just leaving.”

  Asher arches a dark eyebrow. “So soon? I was hoping to steal the lovely Cyn for a dance later in the evening.”

  I’ll bet you were.

  But then I catch Asher’s eye. There’s a hardness there, completely void of any trace of flirtation. I know this man. The one behind the suave smile and smooth lines. That guy is ruthless—a savage who wouldn’t hesitate to push his own mother in front of the L train if she betrayed his trust.

  That’s the thing with Asher. It takes an act of God to earn your way inside his inner circle, but only one minor misstep to find yourself cast out. But Asher Vaughn doesn’t just eliminate people from his life.

  He eliminates them altogether.

  Something’s going on.

  I slide a quick glance toward Sterling, and that’s all it takes. No words needed. Rivalry and bullshit are moved aside, and we work like an old, well-oiled machine. We always have. Within seconds he’s between Cyn and Asher with his hand on her shoulder.

  This time, I don’t mind as much.

  “Cyn,” he says, flashing her that dimpled grin. “Have you seen the ice sculptures?”

  Her cautious blue eyes find mine, full of questions. I smile reassuringly, more pleased than I care to admit about the simple act of her seeking permission.

  Satisfied, she tilts her chin up at Sterling. “Well, no, but—”

  “Trust me,” he whispers, extending his elbow in a friendly invitation. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a ten-foot frozen California condor.”

  Cyn glances at me once more, and again, I nod. She gives me a gentle smile before taking his arm.

  Shut up, brain.

  Shut up, heart.

  That goes double for you, dick.

  That’s not affection and trust in her eyes. It’s terror. Despite being an heiress, she’s out of her element, and I’m her lifeline. Nothing more.

  Asher and I stand in silence as Cyn and Sterling weave their way through the throngs of people until they finally disappear. He plucks two glasses of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and shoves one into my hand.

  “She’s pretty.” He lifts it to his mouth, his eyes scanning the room. “Sweet, too. Don’t fuck it up.”

  “Thanks for the tip. Now, what the hell is going on?”

  “What makes you think something’s going on?”

  Downing half the glass, I slam what’s left onto another passing tray. “Cut the shit, Vaughn. You and Sterling haven’t attended a charity gala in over five years. Plus, you have that look in your eye like someone’s about to leave here in about twelve different pieces.” Then a thought hits. A sickening thought that sends fire shooting through my veins. “If this has anything to do with what Sterling dug up on Cyn and her family, brothers or not, I’ll make sure you—”

  Asher rolls his eyes and takes another indulgent drink. “Put your lovesick balls away, Kellen. This has nothing to do with your girl.”

  “Then what’s crawled up your ass?”

  “Not what. Who.” He scans a laser-focused gaze around the room, his hand clenched so tightly around the champagne flute I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “A thief. A very intelligent, brass-balled thief. One that Sterling stumbled onto while searching for your mystery woman. Seems the Violet Queen was lurking in a place she didn’t belong inside the dark web.”

  Violet Queen? “And you think she’s here?”

  “Perhaps.” He shrugs, his nerves a layer of stone. “I haven’t gotten confirmation yet. But when I do…”

  He lets the rest of his sentence trail off, and not by accident. This isn’t my first rodeo with Vaughn-style vengeance. We both know that speaking the words out loud instantly makes me an accessory to whatever the hell he has planned.

  I know the crime. I don’t need to know the punishment.

  “What’s the threat level?”

  A cold smile peels across his tanned face. “Total annihilation.”

  Shit. If whatever this woman did was enough to piss off the most powerful internet security company in the world, I’m not sticking around for the main event.

  “Asher, I—”

  The hardened lines in his face suddenly vanish. “Ah, the most captivating woman in the room returns.” I spin around as Cyn drops her hold on Sterling’s arm and smiles nervously between the three of us.

  Time to go.

  “Ready to get out of here, beautiful?” I ask, slipping my arm around her waist once more. The tension in her body melts the moment I touch her, and I remind myself this is a purely physical attraction.

  We have insane chemistry.

  Not a damn thing in common.

  She’s not my type.

  Use your head, Knight.

  No, the other one.

  “It was nice to meet both of you,” she offers politely.

  Sterling gives her a private wink, and that unfamiliar emotion surges inside me again. “Keep him in line, Cyn.”

  Asher bows dramatically. “Until we meet again, ma chérie.”

  I don’t give her a chance to respond. I’ve had enough.

  “French, hmm?” she muses as I quickly pull her toward the door.

  I nod. “Asher speaks six languages.” I send a short text to my driver and usher her outside. “Sterling knows at least that many, plus a lot of computer gibberish that I don’t really understand. They’re both geniuses.” An understatement. The two of them could bring down empires with their shared knowledge. Hell, they probably did.

  She smiles. “Well, I like your friend Sterling, but that guy’s a little intense.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I grumble.

  Like the Pope is a little Catholic.

  But I’m done talking about him. I have one thing on my mind—and she’s wearing a baby-blue ball gown.

  Which matches two blue balls that are about to turn purple if I don’t get her out of it real soon.

  Okay, make that two things.

  Chapter 10

  Kellen

  An hour later, I’m sitting across from Cyn at my favorite restaurant as she peers at her plate, hesitantly poking at the black glob with her fork.

  Picking up my wine glass, I sink back into my chair and watch her dissect her food like a science project. “If you don’t like it, we can send it back.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she insists, forcing a smile. “It’s just…” She pokes at it again, this time managing to mash it into coagulated tar. “What is it?”

  “Caviar wagyu.”

  She bits her lip and nods. “Oh. Right.”

  She’s so damn adorable. Most people I know would’ve had the chef and three waiters fired by now.

  “You have no idea what that is, do you?”

  She glances up, startled at first, but then she sees my smile, and a matching one tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Not a clue.”

  “I would’ve thought Archibald Ellis’s daughter would know her way around a Michelin star menu.”

  And just like that, her smile fades and the temperature in the restaurant plummets about fifty degrees. “She does. Her name is Kota.”

  Kota.

  A name that doesn’t conjure anything but repetitive scalding showers in a futile attempt to remove her stench from my skin. By the look on Cyn’s face, her feelings toward her stepsister mirror mine.

  When Kota wasn’t trying to shove her tongue down my throat, she used it to avoid discussing Cyn. After learn
ing about their familial ties, I thought Kota might be protecting her stepsister from me, but after finding out what she told Cyn about our supposed tryst, I suspect something else is going on.

  And just like everything else in life, the pathway to truth is paved in green.

  Why is the only blood heir to the Ellis fortune barely living above the poverty level, while a few vows said in a Vegas chapel find two women wiping their asses with hundred-dollar bills?

  I don’t know, but I intend to find out.

  I already have my best lawyers looking into the legality of Cyn’s financial situation. If there’s a loophole, they’ll find it and tug until the whole Ellis shitshow unravels. I don’t care if Archibald promised his shiny, new wife all the riches in the world. There’s some fuckery going on, and I won’t stand for it.

  Especially after seeing how talented Cyn is. Her sketches are fresh and edgy. The woman is an artist, not some damn gopher to a wannabe diva.

  I refuse to see another dream die in the name of duty.

  I snap my fingers at a passing waiter and retrieve another menu. “Caviar wagyu is nothing but Japanese steak topped with fish eggs,” I announce, handing it to her. “Order whatever you want.”

  Even I wince at my tone, but she takes it without saying a word, glancing up at me every few seconds. I’m being a dick and taking out my frustrations on her, but I can’t help it. This whole week has plucked one giant nerve.

  Cyn pins me with those damn blue eyes and drops her fork. “Kellen? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” The waiter arrives at our table, and I motion for him to take her plate. “Order.”

  The waiter reaches for the plate, but Cyn wraps both hands around it and tugs it back. “No, I want this.”

  He bounces an unsure stare between us. “Are you sure, madame? I’m happy to have the chef prepare whatever you like.”

  “No, thank you.”

  The waiter nods and slips away with a nervous smile. Once he’s gone, the plate in question sits there untouched, and Cyn’s gnawing her lip so hard it might as well be her entrée. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “I mean five minutes ago, you would’ve rather chewed your own arm off than put another bite of that in your mouth.” I motion toward her untouched food.

  She gives me a half smile and lies through her teeth. “I like it.”

  I lean forward and hold her gaze. “Cyn, I know when a woman enjoys what’s in her mouth and when she doesn’t.”

  She gasps, and I stifle a smile. Yeah, okay, so I went for shock value. Sue me.

  Lines crease her forehead, and she stares at her plate like someone just crawled up onto the table and took a shit on it. “It’s four hundred dollars.”

  “Your point?”

  She shakes her head. “That’s a utility bill and a week’s worth of rent. Normal people don’t spend that kind of money on one steak, Kellen. Even if it is wahoo.”

  “Wagyu.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. This just proves that agreeing to tonight was a mistake.”

  Back up a minute. How the hell did some overpriced beef just cockblock me?

  Now my fork clangs against my plate, garnering more than a couple stares. “How could you think that?”

  “How could you not think that?” she shoots back. “Look at us. You’re Fifth Avenue, and I’m thrift store. And before you say anything, you bought me this dress. This”—she motions down the length of her dress—“this isn’t me. This hair, this makeup, none of it is the real me.”

  What? Is she for real? How can she not see what I see?

  I catch her eye and hold it. “It doesn’t matter what you wear or how made up you are, Cyn. You’re breathtaking to me just as you are.”

  “Right,” she snorted. “That’s why you didn’t give a second look the other…” She shakes her head, a sad smile teasing her lips. “Never mind, it’s not important. The point is that we don’t fit in each other’s worlds.”

  “Because of some damn Japanese beef?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” We both know it’s not the food, but before I can push any more, Cyn shuts down. “Look, can you please just give me back my sketchbook?”

  Never in my life have I worked so hard for a piece of ass. Part of me screams to call her a cab and wash my hands of the whole damn thing, but the other half…

  Well, that sack of shit puts earplugs in and skips around the table listening to the John Legend loser remix.

  I stand and toss my napkin onto the table. “Let’s go.”

  Cyn stares up at me in confusion. “What? No.”

  I nod to her plate. “I’m sorry. Were you planning on finishing that now or two hours from now?”

  “But you’re still eating.”

  “Irrelevant.”

  “You haven’t paid the bill.”

  “Also irrelevant.”

  There’s an extended pause. One of those heavy, slow-motion pauses right before something catastrophic explodes. Like a volcano.

  Or a really pissed-off woman.

  “You pretentious asshole!” Cyn’s chair goes flying back as she leaps to her feet, eyes blazing. “I used to be a server. Our waiter is going to have to pay for our meal out of his own pocket.” She’s fired up. People are staring, but she’s so passionately furious that she doesn’t care. She’s almost shaking as she rounds the table and shoves her finger into my chest. “Maybe you don’t care about things like that, but I refuse to stand by and let you—”

  I slam my lips against hers. Not just to shut her up, but because I have to. I can’t not kiss her.

  Show me a man whose dick doesn’t salute a woman with fire in her veins. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

  Her lips are soft, and when she lets out a lusty little whimper, it takes every ounce of self-control not to deepen it into something that can possibly get us arrested.

  With one last lick across her bottom lip, I pull back and tip her chin up. “You’re cute when you’re pissed, you know that?”

  “But—”

  “I have a standing account here. Everything will be charged to my credit card, including a forty percent gratuity. Happy?” She nods, her lips still swollen from our kiss. “Now, Miss Ellis, I believe I owe you a proper meal.”

  “People are staring.”

  “I don’t blame them,” I say, watching as she dips a salty french fry into a strawberry milkshake and then pops it into her mouth. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

  Cyn blinks as if that shit is normal. As if she didn’t just perform a culinary abomination right in front of my face. “What? It’s delicious.”

  “You won’t eat wagyu and caviar, but that’s okay?”

  She holds a fry in the air and smirks. “Not a single one of these french fries laid an egg, thank you.”

  “If one did, you wouldn’t be able to taste it underneath all that ice cream.” I push my burger away. Can’t say I’m hungry anymore after watching that display.

  “Exactly,” she exclaims, smacking the table like she’s won an argument. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Picking up a fry, she drags it through her ice cream and shoves it dripping across the booth. “Here.”

  Here?

  Has she lost her damn mind?

  I can think of a lot of things I want to eat tonight. That’s not one of them. But the way she’s looking at me, all hopeful and smiling, and…

  Fuck. I guess I’m eating a soggy, dairy fry.

  I lean forward, trying to remember the Lord’s Prayer as she shoves a cold, mushy potato into my mouth.

  Our Father, who art in heaven.

  “Kellen, you have to close your mouth to chew.”

  Hallow—Halloween be thy name in the hell is that and why did it crunch?

  “Well?”

  Swallow. Just swallow.

  Somehow I force it down and convince it not to come back up. “I’ll stick to fish eggs.”

  She shrugs and g
oes back to her blasphemous concoction until the whispers grow loud enough to command her attention again. This time, she cocks her head and purses her lips. “They’re staring because they recognize you.”

  “Maybe.” Probably. Most likely. “Or it could be that we’re sitting in a diner eating burgers and fries, looking like we just jumped off the top of a wedding cake.”

  She can’t argue. It’s true. When we strolled into the tiny diner wearing a tux and a ball gown, the place went completely silent for a good thirty seconds. Out of place is a mild understatement.

  “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “Do what? Eat?” I pick up my burger and wave it near her face. “We pretentious assholes like to do it from time to time, too, you know.”

  Her cheeks pinken. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Yes, you did, and you had every right to call me out. You thought I was being an insensitive prick and stealing money from an honest, hardworking waiter.” I drop my burger back onto the plate and pin her with a serious stare. “I don’t fault you for that. I admire you for it.”

  “You do?”

  “Believe it or not, I know the value of a dollar. My father didn’t come from money, Cyn. He built Midnight Enterprises from the ground up. He and my mother put every penny they had into his dream. I may have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but my father made it by hand.”

  Cyn’s jaw drops. That makes two of us, sweetheart. I’m just as shocked by my confession as she is. Besides Sterling and Asher, I’ve never opened up to someone like that. Not about my personal life and especially not about my parents. I don’t like how exposed it makes me feel.

  “I had no idea. I just assumed—”

  “That I come from a lineage of old-money assholes? That I took over the company after my father’s death and changed the name because I’m the typical spoiled son of a bitch who wanted to give a big middle finger to his legacy?”

  “The tabloids—”

  “Yeah, well, people believe what they want to believe. Rumor is always more entertaining than the truth, isn’t it?”

  Wham!

  That’s the sound of me slamming the door I just opened and locking that bitch up tight. Cyn’s back to chewing on her damn lip, and this hole-in-the-wall diner suddenly feels like an incubator.