Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

PRINCE

People forget that the ugly duckling has feelings, too.

I've long since learned how to make up for my shortcomings. I can talk to anyone and get them to smile, even laugh. But the vibe changes when guys realize I'm interested in them—or, worse, their friends. Then it's all cold shoulders and "you can do better" whispers. And life hasn't yet taught the hot young guys how to say no kindly.

Tonight, rejection tastes more bitter than usual. I couldn't quite shrug it off as I headed home to shower, shave, and change into my outfit. I just kept finding myself thinking about Beauty. And I don't even know his real name—he never offered, and I never asked.

Maybe that's just as well, considering how it ended.

I should just embrace the role I always get cast in. I work my jaw around as I stride down the street. They see me as a wicked old fairy? I can act like it. I could tell the door guy not to let them in…

I sigh and shake my head, pushing my hands into my pockets. I already know I won't do that. Beauty's friends had bad manners but good intentions. He's obviously easy to push around. There's a reason he called me Daddy right away—he's so obviously the kind of boy who needs someone to call the shots.

If he doesn't have a Daddy of his own, his friends are right to watch out for him. I meant what I said—he really will get torn apart if he goes out on the scene. And I don't get any satisfaction from knowing that. It just aches.

And I can't help wondering… before his friends arrived, what the hell was Beauty about to tell me?

"Hey, is that Prince? You on deck tonight?"

I glance around, and some guy wearing a leather hood catches my eye and waves from the other side of the street. He's a regular at Vibes. He must recognize me, even behind my feathered mask, from the rest of my outfit: black velvet trousers and silk floral-patterned waistcoat.

Add a great sense of style to the list of things I've got going for me.

My DJ persona kicks in automatically. "Your Prince is coming for you, darling," I answer, my voice just aloof enough, yet honeyed and suggestive. "As long as you come for me. Bottom floor, from twelve to two."

The guy laughs, gives me a thumbs-up, and turns back to his friends. And despite myself, I can't help smiling. More people know me by my DJ name than my legal one these days—and I like it that way.

I never tell people where it came from.

When I was Beauty's age, I looked in the mirror and I hated what I saw. I used to hold myself back from even trying, because what was the point? My only hope was that I'd get hotter with age, like some fairy godmother would come along, wave her wand, and transform me into Prince Charming.

Then the years passed and I realized that if I have a fairy godmother, she has a Hitachi for a wand, and she lost the charger in another dimension.

Honestly, who can blame her? We've all been there. And I've found my own ways to stand out. In a dark room with the beat pumping, it doesn't really matter what I look like—only how I perform.

So to speak.

Ugh. After my set, it's my best chance to get laid, but I can't even get excited about it tonight. That gorgeous, shy, maddeningly timid boy really has gotten into my head. And I won't even see him at Vibes… unless he was too timid to tell his friends what he really wanted.

Again.

I work my jaw around, trying to push away the feeling of disappointment as I shove my hands into my pockets.

It isn't even that Beauty didn't stand up for me. Or that I'm older than him—that's just a fact. I happen to know my extra years have blessed me with a deficit of fucks to give about what the infants call me.

I'm just upset because I've spent half my life being ashamed of wanting beautiful men when it's so obvious that I'm not in their league. So I know exactly what it looks like when someone is too ashamed of their desire to stand up for what they want.

That Beauty boy has to smarten up.

That's all I told him when we parted ways—in my own way. If that makes me wicked, so be it. Every Daddy knows that being mean is sometimes the kinder option. It's far better than letting Beauty sleepwalk down an even worse path than mine.

Men didn't hesitate to tell me no. But Beauty is pretty enough that they'll say yes on his behalf, and if he's not careful, he'll never learn how to want anything for himself. He'll just get chewed up and spat out by the scene in a few decades, with no more of an idea who he is.

Ugh. Now my heart hurts when I'm supposed to be having a good night.

I lift my head, looking around for a distraction. It's probably futile. I know this street—all the houses have tiny, cobblestone front yards. A few flower pots are about as interesting as it gets around here. There's one house with a rickety folding chair outside the window, but I've never seen anyone sitting there…

Wait.

Holy shit. Of all people, it can't be… but it is.

It's Beauty.

He's got his head tipped back to look at the sky. He hasn't noticed me yet, but I can recognize his features even in the dim evening light. And that inexplicable magnetic attraction is already pulling me straight toward him.

What do I have to lose?

Beauty is sprawled on the little black metal folding chair. He's leaning back on two legs, resting the back of his head against the window frame to gaze at the night sky. His feet are resting on the low wall right next to me. In those little black faux leather shorts, his legs look miles long—and it's a journey I'm dying to take.

Fuck. My heart is hammering against my ribcage.

My black velvet pants suddenly feel that much tighter. I can barely suppress my urge to run my palms along the outsides of Beauty's calves, over his knees, on and on up to his thighs…

God. Are these pockets deep enough to subtly adjust myself?

But it's not just my body responding to him. It's a lot weirder than that.

These tingles are shivering along my spine. The hair on the back of my neck practically stands up, like it's trying to alert me to something important. My heartbeat is still pounding in my ears, and the world is narrowing until all I can see is Beauty.

I just want to study every single thing he says and does. Like there's something in me that he needs… and vice versa, that's the weird part.

What does this boy have that I need so badly? I don't know, but I'm dying to find out.

The first words spill out of my mouth before I can even think twice about them. "That's not very safe, you know."

Beauty turns his head to look at me. I brace myself for whatever he'll say when he recognizes me… but he's just staring at me with a little wrinkle between his brows.

Holy shit. He doesn't know who I am with my mask on.

In a split-second, I've already made my decision: I'm not going to tell him. Not yet, anyway. Second chances don't come around every day.

"Sitting like this?" Beauty finally says, easing his feet off the top of the wall. His chair tips forward again to rest on all four legs. "Thanks, Daddy," he bats his lashes at me and pouts. "Your wisdom has saved me from a surefire concussion."

Sassy little thing. God, I like it. All the things I want to do to that pretty, faux-innocent face just slam into my brain at the same time.

"I was going to say leaving those legs lying around like that." I rest my hand on top of the wall. "But the concussion risk is worth noting."

Beauty's cheeks turn pink as he giggles. "Dressed like that, I bet you're going to the ball. You'll see plenty of legs there. You don't need mine."

"Maybe I just want them, then." I'm using my work voice now—the low, sultry purr. Might as well fully play the part behind my mask. "So, what's a beauty like you doing not going to the ball?"

Beauty looks surprised for a moment, and I pause to see if he recognizes the nickname. But he doesn't—he just blushes.

Maybe I'm laying it on a little thick, but I've already left enough marks on the poor boy for one night with my sharp tongue. Now, I just want him to giggle and blush and feel as good as he's supposed to on his own birthday.

"I don't know," he murmurs. "The scene isn't my thing."

Behind my mask, I raise my eyebrows as I check my watch. I only have about five minutes before I really have to leave.I hope he doesn't think he's all sweet and vanilla, because that's not enough time to break the news to him: he's obviously not. My gut tells me that much.

I just don't know what he's into yet.

"What is, then?"

I step right over the low wall and sink down to sit on it, and Beauty gasps. Then he starts squirming with excitement, wrapping his feet nervously around the legs of the chair—and, in the process, spreading his legs.

God. The things I want to do to him, right here and now…

"Um…" Beauty stutters.

I grin and lean toward him, bracing my elbows on my knees. "If you're too embarrassed to say it, you can whisper it into Daddy's ear."

He makes this adorable little squeaking noise, and then he shakes his head slightly. He just turns in his chair and looks at the open window behind himself, and then at me, and then back to the window, and then the ground again.

"I—I like—I mean…"

Come on , I urge him mentally, trying to swallow my impatience. Tell me what you want. You can do it just this once. It'll get easier next time.

He bites his lip. He's looking up at me slowly, so shyly that I want to wrap him in my arms and hold him until his nervous jitters fade away. But I hold myself back and wait a little longer… and then he clears his throat.

"You know Sleeping Beauty?" he murmurs. "I, um… I leave the window open. So a prince can come."

Then he ducks his head and stares at his lap, twisting his hands together firmly.

I lean back, resting my hand on the wall next to me. As I think, I walk two fingers along the wall beside me, down my thigh to my knee.

He likes to go to bed early. He likes anonymity, but not big parties. And he's waiting for a prince to come…

"Oh," I breathe out, because now I get it, and it all seems stunningly obvious.

Beauty makes a tiny sound of embarrassment and peeks up at me. I just grin slowly at him, leaning forward to let my fingertips hop over to his knee. It's warm and electric under my fingertips… and I want so much more.

"Yeah?" Beauty breathes out softly. His whole body shivers at the touch. His thighs spread even further apart as he goes perfectly still. He even closes his eyes most of the way, turns his cheek away… like he wants to pretend he's sleeping.

That's what he wanted to tell me at the bar. Oh, yeah. It all makes sense now.

"So, what does this Beauty dream about while he sleeps?" I murmur. His eyes fly wide open as he stares at me. I slowly but mercilessly let my fingertips walk up his thigh, not even giving him a chance to answer. "A prince who steals what he wants in the moonlight?"

The hard line in Beauty's shorts tells me that I'm on the right track—and so does his face. He doesn't say a word, but he's glowing with hope and delight and nervous excitement.

"To sleep, perchance to dream..." I grin wickedly.

Beauty looks almost ready to leap to his feet and flee inside. He makes a tiny little sound. Then he reaches down to pinch his own thigh, like he's checking if he's dreaming.

It's as sweet as it is hot.

"Mmhmm?" I grin, sliding my fingers up to pinch him in almost the exact same spot.

"Ow! I already did that," he pouts at me.

Whew. This boy really hasn't had anyone take charge properly before. He's got a lot to learn.

"So?" I ask with a laugh, and Beauty's cheeks go red.

He stutters wordlessly. The way he folds his hands between his thighs and gazes down is the very picture of excited submission. It's adorable how excited he is. He can't contain himself—even his toes are wriggling in his flip-flops.

Looks like tonight is going to turn out well after all.

"The night is young, and I have a lot to do," I tell Beauty. "I think you should head inside before you catch a chill. Get some sleep, while you can."

As I stand up, he leaps to his feet. "Are… are you coming back…?" he asks, still adorably shy.

"Are you going to leave the window open tonight?"

Beauty's eyes shine with excitement as he nods so hard that his chair rattles, and my chest swells up like a damn balloon. Despite all my cynicism, I can't help smiling. After the way our last encounter ended, this reaction is exactly the flattery I needed. Then, like he hardly dares to ask but he can't help himself, Beauty murmurs, "How quiet will you be?"

"You'll find out," I tell him with another wicked smile. "Or perhaps you won't, if I'm quiet enough."

Beauty makes this strangled moaning noise that turns into a breathless, nervous giggle. "Well, now I don't know how I'll get to sleep."

"Chamomile tea," I deadpan, stepping back over the wall. "Or find a contract to read." I lift my chin slightly in farewell. "Good night, Beauty. Sleep tight."

"I will," he breathes out, and then he dives straight through the window and tugs the curtain closed.

Poor Beauty. I don't think there's enough chamomile on Earth.

I stay where I am for a few moments and count down the seconds in my head.

Ten, nine, eight ? —

On five, the curtain wobbles. On three, I catch him peeking at me, and I give him a slow smirk.

He makes another of those strangled little noises as he lets the curtain fall again, and then scurries away from the window. My ribs hurt from holding back my laughter as I finally turn away.

It's not just the mask that helps me hold my head high as I walk down the street and into Vibes. It's the glowing knowledge that there's a boy out there waiting for a Daddy—waiting for me.

And I know exactly what to do.