Fairytale Come Alive (54 page)

Prentice glared at her.

Better to do that then turn to Carver Austin and strangle him in front of his daughter. She might not like her father but Prentice figured she’d frown on that.

“No,” she went on before Prentice could form a reply, “you feel
guilty
and you feel sorry for me.”

“Don’t be daft,” Prentice said softly.

“I’m not being daft!” she all of a sudden snapped.

Prentice was surprised at her quick, sharp defense.

Then he was pleased.

Because this wasn’t Isabella who meekly gave in. The woman standing in front of him with tousled hair, wearing silk was
his
Elle who
never
gave in.

She’d handed him his opening so he went with it.

“You are Elle, what you’re saying is absurd.”

“It is
not
.”

“Right, so, instead of wanting you in my life, in my home, in my
children’s
lives because you’re fucking gorgeous, you bake exquisite chocolate cake for my daughter, you make my son laugh and you get wet the minute I fucking kiss you is
not
why we’re together, it’s because I read your journals and I feel sorry for you. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes!” she flashed.

“And that’s not absurd?” he returned.

“You don’t know your own mind,” she retorted. “You’re blinded by guilt.”

Prentice burst out laughing.

Through his laughter, he saw her scowling at him and she snapped, “This isn’t funny!”

His hand at her neck pulled her to his body as he talked through his dying laughter, “It’s hilarious, baby.”

“It. Is.
Not
.”

He dipped his head and nuzzled her ear with his nose before he said there, “It is.”

“You’re impossible,” she clipped.

“I’m in love with you,” he replied and lifted his head when he felt her body grow still and he saw her eyes had gone soft and the tears had disappeared. “No’ because I’m blinded by guilt which is ludicrous. I knew I loved you
before
I read your journals. I’m in love with you because I just am.”

“Excuse me,” Carver bit out from behind them and Prentice turned.

He did so while sliding his arm around Elle’s shoulders and pulling her close to his side, saying, “Fuck, I forgot you were here.”

“I’ll ask you to mind your mouth when you’re around me and my daughter.”

Prentice grinned. “Elle likes it when I talk dirty.” He looked down at her and asked softly, “Don’t you, baby?”

Elle’s eyes rounded in horror then they grew warm and she looked like she was trying hard not to laugh.

Yes, he hadn’t lost her. Standing at his side was
his
Elle.

Prentice nearly laughed.

Again, he did not.

“Isabella –” Carver started but Elle’s humor faded and her eyes turned to her father.

“I thought we’d said what we had to say.”

“We did but that was
before
you decided
again
to throw away your life on
this man,
” Carver replied.

“Finally, something
I’d
like to talk about,” Prentice announced and he felt Elle’s body twitch at his side while Carver’s angry eyes slid to him. “Twenty years ago, for no reason other than to be an asshole, you took away the woman I loved. I’ll expect an apology before you leave.”

“I… you –” Carver spluttered.

“And one for Elle too,” Prentice went on.

“I can’t…” Carver started then finished on a hiss, “You must be joking.”

“Don’t feel like apologizing?” Prentice asked then concluded, “That’s fine, then. You can just leave.”

“Isabella –” Carver started yet again but it was Elle who cut him off.

“Prentice asked you to leave, Dad.”

“You can’t tell me –” Carver began.

Prentice looked down at Elle and interrupted him by asking her, “Does he have keys?”

“I changed the locks after our last conversation and asked security to change the code for the front door,” she replied.

Prentice smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Excellent.”

Carver butted into their discussion, “Cameron, I’ll remind you about my offer. I’m willing to negotiate.”

Prentice looked to the man. “You’re saying you’re willing to pay me
more
than twelve million dollars to get out of Elle’s life?”

He knew Elle had heard that part because she showed no reaction to his words.

“Yes,” Carver bit out.

“How much more?” Prentice asked, Elle went tight at his side and he gave her shoulder another squeeze.

“Name it,” Carver snapped.

“All right, Carver, since this doesn’t seem to be sinking in, I’ll explain it to you. I love your daughter. I’ve loved her for decades. My children love her. We’re happy, finally, fucking happy. You don’t have enough money to make me walk away from that. There
isn’t
enough money to make me walk away from that.”

“You’re only saying that because Elle has more than four times that amount in her trust,” Carver shot back.

At his words, it was Prentice’s body that went tight.

Then he looked down at Elle and asked, his voice sounding stunned because he fucking well
was.
“You have over forty-eight million dollars?”

She licked her lips, the nerves acute and visible and she nodded. “At my last meeting with my accountants, it was around fifty-three.”

Prentice couldn’t wrap his mind around fifty-three million dollars.

Carver cut into this endeavor and declared, “I’ll give you fifty-four.”

Elle sucked in breath.

Prentice’s surprised eyes sliced to the man and he muttered the first thing that came to his mind.

“You’re mad.”

“Fifty-four million dollars, you’ll have it tomorrow. No strings,” Carver confirmed. “We’ll find a way around red tape, taxes, everything. You’ll have it mid-morning. Tomorrow afternoon, you walk away.”

“Mad,” Prentice repeated.

“I’m not mad, I’m deadly serious,” Carver returned.

“You’re mad,” Prentice stated again.

“I have it and Isabella knows it,” Carver’s eyes moved to his daughter. “Don’t you?” he demanded and, when she didn’t answer, he leaned forward. “Look at her, Cameron. She knows it and she knows you’re going to take it.”

“Definitely mad,” Prentice muttered yet again.

“Stop saying that!” Carver snapped.

“Carver, if you think I’m going to take that money, you are
definitely
mad.”

Elle’s body jolted violently at his side but Prentice ignored it and ignored Carver’s mouth dropping open. He didn’t, however, ignore just how fucking satisfied witnessing the bastard’s angry astonishment made him feel.

“Now, I’ll say it one last time before we call the police. It’s late. We’ve got less than a week to pack Elle’s things before we go home. We need to get back to bed. Please leave.”

Carver’s eyes shot daggers at him. Prentice simply returned his furious stare.

Carver broke contact and his gaze took in his daughter, top-to-toe, before he returned it to Prentice.

“You’ll regret it,” Carver warned in a low voice.

“That’s doubtful,” Prentice returned.

“I regretted it, marrying her mother,” Carver went on, Elle gasped and Prentice pulled her more tightly against his side.

“The feeling, Carver, was obviously, and sadly, mutual,” Prentice replied softly and then, his voice firm, his intent unmistakable, he finished, “Now, we’re done.”

The bastard gave them both a scathing look before he stalked, back ramrod straight, out of the room.

Prentice followed him and locked the door behind him.

When he turned, Elle was standing in the foyer.

“You just turned down fifty-four million dollars,” she whispered, her eyes wide and when she finished speaking her lips stayed parted.

“Aye,” Prentice agreed, moved forward the two steps that separated them, kissed her forehead then walked around her to the living room.

He switched out the light and when he turned to the door, Elle was standing in its frame.

“You should know,” she said quietly, “I can’t get to that trust unless it’s to make an investment that’s agreed by a small board made up of executives at my mother’s family’s bank or if it’s an emergency. I live off the interest.”

He walked to her, sliding an arm around her waist and leading her into the foyer so he could switch off the light.

“When you sell this apartment, the money will go back into the trust?” Prentice asked.

“Yes.”

“And if you don’t use the interest, it reverts to the trust?” Prentice went on, having turned off the light, he was guiding her through the boxes.

“Yes.”

“Then you better start looking into charities you want to patronize, baby. I don’t think you’ll have a lot of use for your millions in the wilds of Scotland,” Prentice advised.

He heard her pull in a soft breath but she didn’t respond.

He stopped her by the bed and found the tie on her robe.

“Where’s Evangelista’s money?” he asked softly, yanking on the tie before he lifted his hands and slid the robe from her shoulders.

“I used all of it to build and endow two orphanages, one in Vietnam and the other in Ethiopia,” she whispered.

His hands had stilled in the act of closing around her waist to pull her with him into bed.

His voice was gruff when he stated, “I don’t think I heard about that.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said softly. “No one knows but Dad. I did it anonymously.”

Christ, but he loved her.

One arm slid around her waist, the other hand went to her neck and he fell back to the bed, taking her with him,

Her weight landed on him and he rolled instantly, covering her soft body with his.

“I’m no’ sure what you expect, Elle,” he said against her neck. “But we should get something straight.”

Her hands were gliding around to his back but her touch was tentative.

“What?” she asked, her tone just as tentative.

His head came up, he looked at her in the dark and answered, “When I told you I would take care of you, that’s what I meant.” His hand drifted up to her jaw, his thumb moving across her cheekbone and his voice went soft when he continued, “You live in my house, I pay for the food that goes in your belly, I buy your drinks at the pub, I fill your car with petrol, I put clothes on your back –”

“Pren –” she whispered.

“I’m no’ telling you what to do,” he informed her. “You want to work, make your own money, contribute something to the household, do it. You don’t want to work and you want something, it’s your money, get it. You want to do something special for the kids, though, we talk about it first. I don’t want them spoiled.” His hand tensed on her jaw and he asked, “Are we agreed?”

“What if I want to do something special for you?” she whispered, her arms were wrapped around him now and they weren’t tentative, they were holding on tight.

His mouth found hers in the dark and he kissed her softly before his lips glided to her jaw then to her ear.

“In about five minutes, baby, you’re going to do something special for me,” he murmured there.

“What’s that?” she breathed, her hands had started roaming whisper-soft against the skin of his back and he felt his cock start to grow hard at her touch.

He didn’t answer her question.

Instead, he slid his lips and his tongue down her neck and along her collarbone.

At the base of her throat, he stated, “Outside of you baking your oatmeal cookies every once in awhile, anything special I want from you will have the same theme.”

Her fingers slid into his hair, her other hand moved around his waist, across his stomach and down.

When she pressed her hand into his pajamas and wrapped her fingers tight around his cock, his mouth found hers and he muttered, “You guessed it.”

“You’re impossible,” she whispered as she stroked.

He didn’t answer; he was too busy growling into her mouth.

Her thumb found the tip, circled and it felt so fucking good, Prentice bucked his hips into her hand.

Her soft words took his mind off her hand when she said, “You took care of me.”

As good as her hand felt, he wanted to stop and hold her. He wanted to do whatever it took to assure her.

But he decided not to make a big deal about it and hope she got the point.

“Aye,” he replied, his lips moving against hers. “Always, Elle.”

She stroked again, his mouth took hers in a kiss, his tongue sliding inside, tasting her then dueling with hers as she started to move agitatedly under him, his kiss, as usual, getting her excited, her hand automatically stroking faster.