Page 26 of The Cinderella Prince

I couldn’t stop the snort that catapulted itself from my nose. “I do nothing, Cedric. Sarah and John care for the bunch; I just send some money every month. It helps keepthe misting system running in the summer and heated rocks during winter.”

Cedric looked at me just the same. “You act like nothing you do is worth anything, but I’ve never met anyone who’s as ready to give up their time and money for others.”

I didn’t plan to argue with him. It was nice to be thought of so positively by someone, prince or not, but he had a totally wrong impression of me.

“You’re full of surprises,” Cedric said, turning his attention back to Pudding.

I waved my hand through the air as if I were doing a sleight of hand. “No surprises for tonight,” I promised. “We’re only going to dance until we fall off our feet.”

There was a sparkle in Cedric’s eyes that promised a great night ahead.

Cedric

Although three days had gone by since I first told him the truth of my identity, Tristan acted like we were just two boys lost in New York City’s vast cityscape. The first tease I received was long after we had visited Pudding at the zoo and parted ways for a short time. I waited for Tristan at Neon Nights in my best summer clothes. Some unearthly hand had guided me to do all I could to fix my overgrowing hair and spend an hour in front of the mirror as if tonight was anything more than simple fun. My clenching heartand fluttering stomach worried me, but I pushed those thoughts aside.

Tristan entered Neon Nights alone and walked straight toward me. On the way between the door and the spot where I sat at the bar, he greeted several people and a couple of guys who were visibly there together. And when he finally reached me, he batted those long, dark eyelashes at me, making my heart stumble. “Your Highness,” he said just loudly enough for my ears as he leaned in to greet me with a hug. I was getting used to being hugged instead of having my hand shaken.

There are many things I could get used to with you, I thought, inhaling Tristan’s light, breezy scent. “Is that a threat?” I asked in a low tone.

He chuckled so sweetly that the flutters rose into my chest. “Only if you don’t follow me to the dance floor ASAP.”

“A drink first?” I offered. “I can get you that radioactive thing you like that makes your eyes glow yellow.”

Tristan slapped my shoulder. It was, on its own, just a friendly gesture, meaningless banter, but the feel of his hand on my body, even if the part of my body was a covered shoulder, was as intimate as meeting his Pudding or standing at the top of the Empire State building with him.

What are you doing to me?I wondered desperately. With each moment we spent near one another, thoughts of home crashed on me harder. I figured it was because the more I was near Tristan, the less I wanted to return to it all.

Tristan agreed to have a drink at the bar with me first. Mama Viv hadn’t sung her opening number yet, anyway, so the party was hardly warming up. And nothing was as sexyas Tristan biting the tip of his big straw, closing his lips around it, and sucking a bit of the lemony vodka from the glass of crushed ice. He had this flirtatious aura sparking around him that I was finding increasingly more difficult to ignore. Or the shot of caramel rum Roman had served me was extra potent. It was one or the other.

“Have you met my friends?” Tristan asked just as the pair he had greeted neared him again.

I glanced at the couple as I shook my head in reply. They were both tall guys, near my age or slightly older, and clearly in love. It was odd that I couldn’t put my finger on how I knew that, but they were so visibly tied together that I didn’t doubt my instincts. One was a blond guy with wavy hair and an expression of an introvert’s shyness and defiance. The other was slightly taller, his skin like caramel, his eyes warm and brown and full of zest for life, his hair cropped short, and his lips full. “Hullo,” said the blond one. “Hey,” said the brown-eyed one. They thrust their hands out in turn, and the one who introduced himself as Rafael narrowed his eyes briefly. “Have we met before?”

“Uh, I work here,” I said. “But I don’t remember seeing you around.”

“Sorry,” Rafael said lightly. “You just looked familiar from somewhere else. Can’t put my finger on it.”

“It’s your wild imagination,” Luke, the blond one with a low fire burning behind his eyes, said.

“You’re the one with wild imagination. Mine is perfectly within the limits of reason.” Rafael turned to me. “Is that a French accent?”

“Close enough,” I said.

“I spent a wonderful night in Paris, oh, ten years ago,and many not-as-wonderful weeks otherwise,” Rafael said. Something about it made Luke’s eyes glow.

I sensed more questions coming from Rafael, the conversational one, but a booming voice announced the matron of the neighborhood, Lady Vivien Woodcock, before she appeared on the stage and rescued me from people’s curiosity.

There was a cheer that was quickly silenced when the track began to play. It took me a moment to survive the wave of chills running down my arms and recognize the tune. Mama Viv, dancing like a world-class performer about to drop a legendary cover, sang “It’s A Sin” by Pet Shop Boys powerfully enough to leave me gasping for air. I hardly noticed getting up from my bar stool and finding Tristan next to me. I was barely aware that we had forgotten all about our drinks and were spinning around the dance floor, lasers beaming at us and at Mama Viv. The world dimmed everywhere but between us. He became the sole figure I could register. And this, with Mama Viv’s perfect pitch for the ultimate melancholy threaded through the song, was the moment I knew what it was that I wanted.

I doubted I could have it.

I didn’t dare to believe it would last.

But I wanted it. My heart burned in hellish flames with the desire for it. This. This was all I would ever need. I wanted to be consumed by the night, to burn up with a passion that fueled everyone around me, to lose myself in Tristan until all my days passed and I was an old and satisfied man with a lifetime of memories to cherish.

It’s never gonna happen, I reminded myself, but it was almost like I was speaking to someone who had long gonedeaf to this specific voice.Your days are already numbered, silly boy.

But this welling energy that threatened to overflow the confines of my body had to spill somewhere. It had to pour out of me, or I would burst. I grabbed Tristan, this wonderful, impossible guy who never seemed tired, never looked like his life lacked purpose, and never, ever cared if doing the right thing cost him his life. My arms wrapped around his sculpted body, my lips stretched into a broad, uncontrollable smile, and I lifted him off his feet. Some guys would panic, flail, laugh, and ask to be put down, but Tristan stretched his arms above his head and leaned back, spinning in what looked like slow motion to my speeding mind. Beyond the melancholy of the song’s iconic tune was something dramatic and urgent, and I felt it in every bone of my body.

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