Beauty's Cursed Prince Page 2

  “Did you make me a pre-meal snack?”

  “Only because I know you’ll dig into the meal early if I don’t. Top shelf of the fridge, sweet pea. But if the guests are arriving, you should go out and greet them with your father.”

  “I will, I will. But a growing boy needs nourishment.”

  Carlotta blew a raspberry and waved her hand at the jar of preserves, so it screwed itself on without her having to touch it while she busied herself in the cupboard. “You’re nearly thirty! The only way you’re going to grow is wider if you keep eating two dinners.”

  Henry rubbed his toned abdomen as he pulled down a bowl of cut-up fruit and tossed the lid into the sink. “Just more of me to love. From Avondale’s sexiest bachelor, to Avondale’s sexiest Santa. The tabloids will eat up every glorious ounce of me.”

  Carlotta tossed her dish rag in his face, shaking her head at him with a smile as the cloth fell to the counter. “At least take that food out back. Don’t eat it in front of your father’s guests.”

  “Alright, alright.” Though the air had the chill of fall to it, Henry didn’t bother with a jacket if it meant he could put off the stuffy formalities for a few more minutes. It had been his father’s idea to get the notable officials together every other month to have social niceties, so every interaction wasn’t always about furthering an agenda. It was a good system, but Henry grew tired of the many occasions that required him to be on his best behavior.

  The kitchen door on the side of the palace led to a small gazebo that was visible from the long, winding driveway. Henry didn’t mind if the chauffeurs saw him, and sat and ate his bowl of berries while he waited for Rory’s driver.

  His phone buzzed with a text from Adam, his other best friend. The three had been inseparable from childhood, but recently Rory and Adam endured a falling out, in which she’d needed Adam, and he’d remained a hermit, stalwart in his resolve to seclude himself while the world still turned, often in need of his intervention.

  “What have you done to me? You’ve stuck me with a cyborg. This woman you hired never sleeps. I swear, I got up this morning, and she’d shined all my shoes in the night. What am I supposed to do with that?”

  Henry chuckled and typed in his response. “Why yes, I believe I did see some wires sticking out from her hair. She’s working out alright?”

  Henry loved his friends as they were, but every now and then, he found that they needed a little push. Rory had needed a push with Cordray in the beginning, and Adam needed someone to make sure…

  Henry swallowed hard, the strawberries losing all flavor. He didn’t like thinking of one of his best friends holed up alone in his castle, secluded from the world. The nurse and housekeeper Henry had hired to look after Adam seemed capable of handling Adam’s prickly nature, which, Henry reasoned, perhaps did make her part-cyborg.

  He could hear Adam’s acerbic nature coming out in his text. “Belle’s fine, I guess. The next time you go hiring someone to work for me, make sure I actually need the help, which I don’t. I can shine my own shoes.”

  But you won’t, Henry thought, pain twisting his handsome features. He summoned up his courage and spoke the truth to his friend. “You haven’t showered or gotten dressed in who knows how long. You wear that bathrobe like it’s a uniform. Belle stays.”

  Adam wasn’t labeled “the beast” by the media for no reason. He’d been cursed by Malaura nearly ten years prior. On his next birthday, Adam was destined to turn into a wolf and go off to join the Lupine. The curse deformed him and made fur sprout all over. Adam didn’t go out of the castle much anymore—only when Henry and Rory forced him outside.

  Henry knew Adam wouldn’t respond to the hard truth, so he tucked his phone back in his pocket.

  His attention was drawn from Adam’s predicament when a car backfired up on the winding driveway. He didn’t think much of it until smoke started spilling out of the hood. While most of the vehicles were sleek and waxed town cars, this sedan was a bit older, though not decrepit just yet. Henry put down his bowl of fruit on the bench in the gazebo and trotted up the embankment toward the car. “Can I help you out? That didn’t sound all that great.”

  He expected a suited man in his fifties to come out of the driver’s side, since that was the norm for these types of events. Henry’s eyebrows rose when a flash of golden curls caught his eye, a look of determination pinching her button nose as she emerged. “I’ve got it. Thanks. Stupid carburetor. Does this all the time.”

  Henry was fascinated with her preoccupation, utterly transfixed by her frown. Usually women got within ten feet of him and lost their minds with the excitement of stardom. Her informal attire made him wonder whose driver she was. It seemed none of the more notable officials’ staff got out of bed in anything short of a full business suit.

  None of the other drivers offered to help until they saw the stunning woman in jeans and a white button-down inspecting the contents of the engine. Then suddenly everyone was a car expert, getting out of their vehicles to lend a hand.

  Henry waved them off. “I think we’ve got it, gentlemen. As you were.” Then to the woman, he offered a smile through the autumn chill that stung the nape of his neck. “I take it you’re in need of a mechanic?”

  She peered into the mess of wires as if frustrated with the puzzle she knew how to fix, but somehow couldn’t. “Actually, just a wrench would do the trick for now.” Her eyes closed in frustration. “But my tools are at home.”

  “You can use ours. Though, I confess, I don’t know much about fixing carburetors.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced around to the line of town cars, and waved them to pull around, mildly embarrassed. “Is it okay if I leave the car here like this while we go get some tools?”

  Henry smirked at her, though she hadn’t even looked up at him yet. “I’d wager we don’t have much choice. The garage is just over there.” He proffered his elbow to her, but she didn’t take it.

  Instead, she held up her hands and finally met his eyes with a sheepish note of apology. “I don’t want to stain your shirt. But thanks for the gentlemanly escort.”

  She was stunning in a way that made him wish he could study her features for far too long. Her deep blue eyes were more vibrant than his. Her heart-shaped face was utterly captivating – complete with naturally pink and plump lips, rosy cheeks and a sweetness to her smile that made him want to lean a little closer.

  Henry walked beside her, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “I’m Henry.”

  “Nice to meet you. Do you get many cars breaking down in the driveaway of the royal palace, or am I just the luckiest of all the girls?” She grinned over at him, revealing deep dimples that didn’t disappear when her smile faded to a pleasant expression.

  “The fortune’s all mine.” Henry blanched the moment the words hit the air. He’d wanted to come across as his usual charming self, but he sounded like some stuffy royal. He wanted to say something funny just so he could see her smile again, but he was coming up empty. “That sounded stupid. My name’s Henry.”

  The woman sniggered, but covered her mouth out of politeness. “You said that already.”

  He cringed. “This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

  “My name is also Henry,” she deadpanned, her hands in her pockets.

  He narrowed his left eye at her. Most women were too nervous around him to poke fun, or they came onto him like cats in heat. “Hilarious.”

  “That’s what they call me. Hilarious Henry who can’t go on the freeway without overworking her carburetor.” Her smile drifted away, but the wells in her cheeks remained, transfixing Henry as they walked. He wanted to touch them, but guessed that wouldn’t be appropriate. “I’m not a fan of unreliable cars, but that seems to be the way of things.”

  “To be fair, you’re relying on one that’s probably more than half your age.”

  When they reached the garage, Henry cursed himself for not spending more time learnin
g how to fix cars. He’d had a driver since he was born. Though he had his license and drove himself occasionally, he didn’t know the first thing about vehicle maintenance.

  He cast around for a toolbox, relieved when he opened the third tall white cabinet on the side of the sixteen-car garage and found one. “Here you are, Henry,” he said with that same squinty eye.

  “Why, thank you, Henry.” When she glanced up at him, he was treated to a fresh view of her loveliness. Her blonde waves were swept back, fashioned with two crossed pencils that allowed a handful of ringlets to escape and tickle the nape of her neck. “You’re the prince, then?” She shot him a look that bore a small bit of hesitance, as if needing it confirmed how far out of her world he was.

  Henry flashed a bright smile that always dazzled his dates. “It seems a little showy to introduce myself with my title.” He reached into his pocket. “Let me call Maximus. He services our cars, and he can give yours a look.”

  The woman waved her hand, gripping the toolbox with the other. “No need. Unless he’s got a new carburetor up his sleeve, I can handle it.” When Henry’s face fell at not having a reason to stick around her, a small smile pulled her mouth to the side. “Feel like learning how to do a poor man’s fix on an old engine? Being that we’ve got the same name and all, I figure you’d be good with your hands. All Henrys are.”

  The prince’s face lit up at her slight teasing. “Only if I can carry the toolbox. It’ll make it more believable when I tell my dad I helped fix a car with my bare hands.”

  The two chuckled together as they walked back up the embankment. With every step they took, Henry realized when he bantered with her, the fall breeze wasn’t quite so chilly anymore.

  2

  Bad Boy Henry

  “You’re ridiculous,” Henry commented, turning the bolt as per her instructions. “There. Is that right, then?”

  “You’re holding back. She’s an old one, so the bolts come loose at the slightest bump or rattle. Crank it until she won’t turn for you anymore.”

  Henry complied, letting out a small grunt as he gave it his all. “Why does everything you say sound so filthy?”

  “It’s a gift.” Then she looked down at his wrist and grimaced. “Oh, no! Your sleeve is dirty. I told you I should be the one with my hands in her.”

  “See? Absolutely raunchy.”

  She sniggered, shaking her head at him. “Seriously, Henry. Your sleeve has an oil stain on it. If you’ve got some club soda, I can get that out, and no one will know.”

  Henry quirked his eyebrow at her, tilting his head to the side at her fretting. “Wow. Who do you work for that runs such a tight ship? We’re not nearly so strict around here.”

  “Lady Tremaine,” she replied with a closed expression that chased away all the lightness from her features.

  “Who?”

  “Exactly.” Then, as if catching herself being sassy, she straightened, looking over her shoulder. “That was rude. I didn’t mean that. I just meant that this is her first time at one of your events. She was invited by the Baron. She’s very excited to be here; I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

  “Ah,” Henry replied with a knowing nod. “Carlotta mentioned the Baron’s date was a bit of a pain.”

  She giggled, but then caught herself in the scandalous act. She stepped back and fiddled with her sleeve, and Henry could practically see the guilt washing over her in waves at speaking her true mind. “Lady Tremaine is particular. Lots of very successful and amazing people have a keen eye for detail.”

  Henry turned to her, confused at her sudden shift. “I guess that’s true. You alright?”

  She shook her head, biting down on her lower lip. “I don’t like to gossip. It makes me feel dirty to say mean things about other people, even if they’re true.”

  Henry studied her slight movements as if she were a strange bug he couldn’t help but be endeared to. His social life was peppered with, and surrounded by, gossip. It’s what made the tabloid world go ’round. “Then you’ll have to forgive me while I try to catch up. If I leave the house without a tie on, the rumors start to spread that I’m on the brink of losing my title and my fortune. A citizen who doesn’t appreciate gossip? I think you just might be the first.” He tossed the wrench back into the box, and then watched while she straightened it, hooking it inside the tin lid on a small loop he hadn’t thought to look for. “I wonder what you might say if you gave in to such tawdries as gossip. You look like you have oceans inside of you, just begging to burst out.”

  Her eyes darted around, noting that all the other drivers were in their cars, waiting out the event with their noses buried in books or tablets. Still, she lowered her voice. “I might say that Lady Tremaine could find the flaw in anything—create a smudge on a pure canvas with her imagination, and then blame the world for not being as sparkly as everyone else sees it.”

  Henry leaned in, utterly captivated by her response, and felt privileged that he’d been the lucky one to coax the truth out of her. “You can’t confess your true thoughts to me and still keep your name a secret. We’re old friends now. You can’t be ‘Henry’ to me anymore.”

  She shook her head, a bashful smile playing on her lips. “I’m no one you’ll see after today. Let’s just let this be a fun memory.”

  Henry’s lips pursed at her secretive nature. “I’m just going to ask Lady Tremaine who her beautiful driver is.”

  All the play fled from her face as her eyes grew wide in earnest. “Don’t. Please. She doesn’t like when people notice me. It’ll get me into trouble.”

  Henry’s brows pushed together as he frowned. “I hardly think it’s possible not to notice you. I mean, look at you.” He motioned to her face and then her form, but then straightened awkwardly, hoping he hadn’t been inappropriate. She had a trim waist, a sweet curve to her hips, and sizeable breasts he tried not to glance at. “Sorry. But have you seen the other drivers? You’re a diamond in a sea of trolls.”

  Her chin lowered as if to savor the compliment. When her eyes lifted again to meet his, true appreciation shone there, bathing him with the full force of her beauty. “See? You can’t be doing that. You just went and said the perfect thing. How’s a girl supposed to resist charm like that?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I should get your name for my good behavior.”

  She opened her mouth, but closed it again when her stomach rumbled. “You should go back to your party. I’m keeping you from the fun.”

  “Come on inside. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  For the first time in their exchange, she looked scared. Her gaze shifted toward the palace, and she visibly backed away. “No. I mean, no thank you. I’m not hungry.” As if on cue, her stomach growled again. “Ignore that. It makes that sound sometimes.”

  “When you’re hungry?” he asked, perplexed. “Funny, that.” When she didn’t concede, he motioned to the gazebo in the backyard. “How about the outdoors? Are you allowed to eat with me there?”

  She met his eyes with a look that told him something was burning to burst out of her, but her lips kept whatever confession she had tucked tight inside. “I think that would be okay. So long as no one sees us.”

  Henry craned his neck back to look at her from a slightly different angle. “Is this… Is this what it feels like when someone’s ashamed to be seen with a person? I’ll admit, that’s a first for me.”

  She shook her head apologetically. “No! No, it’s not that. Who would be ashamed to be seen with you? You’re perfectly nice. It’s just that Lady Tremaine wouldn’t approve. When she gets cross, she’s… unpleasant to live with.” She covered her mouth and let out a bleat of frustration. “You’re a bad influence on me! I never gossiped this much before I met you.”

  Henry’s cocky smile crept back onto his features. “That’s what they call me. Bad Boy Henry.”

  She sniggered at him and picked up the toolbox. “They call you Prince Charming, and they’re not wrong.”
She walked with him to the gazebo, sitting down a respectable distance from him. Her dodgy glances didn’t stop until Henry offered her the bowl of strawberries he’d left on the bench, and her eyes zoomed in on the goodness.

  “Have some,” Henry said when it was clear she wasn’t presumptuous enough to take what she wanted.

  “Are you sure?”

  She was so adorable, but Henry couldn’t enjoy the sight of her cuteness. There was something sad about a woman who was astonished over a bowl of fruit being shared with her. As if she didn’t deserve nice things such as… food. “Help yourself. I can get you an extra dinner from the kitchen, too.”

  “No, no. Don’t go to any trouble. This is plenty.” She bit into a berry, moaning at the luxury. “Oh, these are amazing. Have you tasted them? They’re so fresh.”

  Henry chewed on his lower lip, reminding himself to be a gentleman. Watching her eat was positively erotic, her lips wrapping around each berry, savoring every bite. He draped his arm across the back of the bench behind her, loving that he could fulfill a need she had.

  “I’m being rude,” she said apologetically, and then offered him the bowl. “I’m sorry, I’m plowing through more than my half. Here.”

  He could’ve watched her eat forever, but at her insistence, he opened his mouth and moved his chin a little nearer, wondering if he could tempt her closer.

  Her cheeks heated as she glanced around, confirming that they were alone. “Bad Boy Henry, indeed.” She smirked as she fed him a berry, wetting her lips when she brushed her fingertips across the curve of his mouth. Then she pulled back, caution flaring in her eyes. “We can’t do that,” she whispered, offering him the bowl.

  “Can’t do what? My arm is broken. In fact, it’s fallen clean off. I’m utterly helpless. Are you the kind of person who turns her back on the wounded?” He feigned a pitiful sniffle and gave her a clear shot of his puppy dog eyes. “If it helps, I served a term in the army, so technically I’m a war vet.”