The Prince's Bride (Modern Fairytales)

His Cinderella isn’t looking for a fairy tale…

Alicia Forkes went to a trendy club looking for a way to forget her troubles, and she found that in the arms of the gorgeous man who swept her off of her feet…and into one of the hottest encounters she’d ever had in her life. Awesome sex with a stranger is now something she can check off her bucket list.

Except he isn’t exactly a stranger. He’s the guy who broke her heart when they were teens, an experience she doesn’t plan on repeating.

Prince Leo can’t believe he’s finally found the woman he’s loved for years, and she wants nothing to do with him. When she shows up at his office, she looks anything but
princess
-like. In fact, she’s cursing him to hell and back. She may not be Cinderella, but he’s determined to prove he’s the prince for her––even if it means letting her go.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Diane Alberts. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Indulgence is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Candace Havens

Cover design by Heather Howland

Cover art from iStock

ISBN 978-1-63375-661-8

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition June 2016

This one is for all the fairy tale lovers out there. Never stop dreaming, or believing in happy endings for everyone…

Chapter One

“I hope you’re happy, Brian,” Alicia Forkes whispered under her breath, eyeing the crowded nightclub. This was so not her scene. She preferred a glass of wine, her cat kneading her lap, and Netflix that played for so long it asked her whether she was still watching, while silently judging her when she clicked yes. “I’m trolling for dudes because of you and your stupid bucket list.”

She fidgeted with her sequined clutch and stood at the side of the bar, feeling increasingly out of place with each passing moment. If not for the naughty bucket list her best friend had given her burning a whole through her pocket, she’d be out of here so fast there would be a faint blur as she busted through the crowd at
Flash
-like speeds. She was at a hot nightclub in the tiny foreign country of Randovia, surrounded by people she didn’t know, who all were wearing masquerade masks and downing shots like there was no tomorrow.

And she was completely, utterly lost.

When her company sent her to this foreign country to observe cultures and then report back to them, she’d been less than thrilled about it. Baker, Inc. wanted to create weapons and train officers for the Randovian Navy, and to do that, they needed information.

And while she was here?

She was going to nail this bucket list. Brian had challenged her, and she wasn’t a woman who backed down from something like that.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

“You can do this,” she whispered to the crowded barroom, giving herself one last pep talk. “One item down, four to go.”

Nodding to herself, she scanned the room. The club she’d chosen was called the Ballroom, and their gimmick was masquerades every night. People could bring their own masks, or they could be purchased at the front door. It was all covered in anonymity. Even the staff wore masks. The couple next to her moaned, the man’s hand disappearing under the woman’s short skirt. Alicia turned her head so quickly she was worried she had given herself whiplash.

Yeah. Nope. She couldn’t do this.

Time to go.

Glancing toward the side door, she mentally mapped out her route, because this was
so
obviously a mistake, but the tall, brown-haired man standing by the bar wearing a
Phantom of the Opera
mask caught her attention before she could take a step forward.

How could he
not
?

What girl hadn’t fallen for the sinister anti-hero at some point in her life? What had Christine been thinking when she picked Raoul, anyway? He didn’t have the same deep, dark depths to him that the Phantom had. He didn’t love as passionately. Feel as deeply. Of course Raoul didn’t kill people, either…

But still.

This
version of the non-violent Phantom was over six-foot tall, judging from the way he towered over the other men in the club. He was eyeing
her
. The mask only covered half of his face, giving him a hard, dangerous look.

What would it be like to have
his
hand up my skirt
?

Her heart picked up speed when he tilted his head toward the bar, motioning to the empty seat beside him. She twisted around to find the incredibly tall, gorgeous, supermodel woman he must have been after. But there was no one behind her.

He motioned at the stool again. Never one to assume the hottest guy in the room was inviting her to sit with him, she pointed to her chest and mouthed, “Me?”

His lips quirked up into a half grin, he gave a small nod. The man even managed to make such a simple, mundane gesture freaking hot as hell. “You,” he mouthed back.

“Uh…” She gulped down a deep breath and made her way across the crowded bar. When she reached his side, she forced herself to meet his eyes. To act as if she wasn’t always the girl who didn’t belong. “Hi?”

“Is that a question?” he asked, his question tinged with amusement. His voice was deep and rumbly, with a sexy accent that was almost half British, half French, and it reminded her of that Benedict Cumberbatch guy that made all the girls—herself included—make unintelligible sounds whenever they heard him speak.

“N-No,” she managed to squeak, lowering herself onto the padded stool. She adjusted her black mask and folded her hands awkwardly in her lap. Too bad Brian’s bucket list hadn’t come with the game required to pull off something like this. “Of course not. It was a greeting.”

He gave her a once-over, starting at her red stilettos and working his way up at his leisure. “That’s one hell of a greeting, if you ask me.”

Not one to back down from a challenge, spoken or silent, she checked him out from head to toe, much like he’d done to her. His lean frame consisted of nothing but hard muscles. His biceps strained against his button-up shirt, making her wonder if he had a hard time finding jackets that fit him properly. His dark pants hugged his hips and—

Well, the
rest
of him with picture perfect clarity.

Who knew trousers could be so revealing?

He cocked his head to the side when she remained silent, his dark brown eyes sucking her into their depths, and there was something about the way he gazed at her that pulled her under his spell, as if he
owned
her, and everyone else in this club. “Let me guess. You’re from New York?”

She watched his mouth as it formed words, transfixed and not bothering to hide it. “Is my accent that obvious?”

“Yes. New Yorkers have a very distinctive way of speaking.” He signaled the bartender. “May I buy you a drink, my lady?”

My lady
. The fact that they still said such things in an otherwise modern country baffled her. While women carried important jobs here, just like in America, the men still treated them like items to be coddled. Worshipped. Cherished. It was
weird
.

“Sure. Thanks.” She held her hand out to him, ignoring the free drink vouchers in her purse. “I’m Alicia, by the way.”

He stiffened, but when he turned back to her, his face was impassive. “Nice to meet you…” Grasping her hand lightly, he brought it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles. That kiss went right to her belly, making it twist with desire, and again, that undeniable attraction pulled her closer. There was just something
about
him. “Alicia.”

The way he said her name…

It brought back memories.

He leaned in to shout over the music, “I’ll have another lager, and she’ll have a…”

She slipped her hair over her shoulder and gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile, despite the memories flitting through her mind, and leaned closer, too. “Manhattan, please.”

“How fitting,” he said drily, watching her from beneath hooded eyes.

She smiled. “I’m a fan of well-timed irony.”

“Me, too.” After a few moments of silence, he whistled through his teeth, his eyes fixated on something behind her. “That couple behind you is quite…well, you simply have to see for yourself.”

Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder, a gasp escaping, and just as quickly turned back to her Phantom. While it was out of character for her, she so wished she and the Phantom were that couple.

What is wrong with you?

Him. It was definitely him.

Never in her life—well, except for that one time—had she been so attracted to another human being. “They’re really out of—” She broke off, not wanting to sound like a prude. “I mean, they’re really…uninhibited, aren’t they?”

“Masks have a funny way of bringing out the adventurous side in everyone,” he said, that sexy grin sliding into place. “And only the adventurous come to a place like this.”

He watched her with a dark light in his brown eyes, and that unspoken pull between them made her shift closer to him until her knee touched his thigh. He glanced down at the small contact, and when they locked eyes again…

Without a doubt, she knew that she’d found her one-night stand.

He made her crave so much more than a mundane, awkward night in a stranger’s arms—and she had no doubt he could deliver. Through all these years, she’d thought maybe she just wasn’t that type to thrive at the idea of a crazy night in a stranger’s arms.

Turned out, she was wrong.

This guy was totally her type.

Tall, dark, with a dash of Randovian
.

“Yeah,” she said, pressing her knee more firmly against his thigh. “I suppose you have a point there.”

“Do you lose all inhibitions when you put on a mask?” He tugged on hers, leaning in until his mouth was a breath away from her ear. “Are you the type to have sex in a crowded club and not give a damn who sees you?”

Hell no.

But with him…

“Are you?” she asked breathlessly.

“Absolutely, if the situation warrants it.” He rested a hand on her knee. “If the attraction is there…who am I to deny that?”

She sucked in a deep breath and held it, suspecting he’d found plenty of those “situations,” and that maybe, just maybe, she was way out of her league with him.

She was saved from having to admit as much by the bartender, who came over carrying the drinks. “Here you go,” he said as he set the glasses in front of them. When the worker glanced at the man beside her, his eyes widened, and he backed up a step. “Excuse me—”

Phantom leaned over the bar to whisper something to the other man. The other man nodded, still gaping at the man next to me. “Here.” He handed the man a tip that would pay for a great meal at a nice restaurant.

Yep, definitely out of my league
.

The bartender bowed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hell, she’d bow for a tip like that, too. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He picked up his beer. “So, what
are
you doing here tonight, Alicia? What brought you to a club like this?

A dirty bucket list, and the free drink vouchers slipped under my hotel door
. “Alcohol, dancing, flirting, and having fun. The usual. What about you?”

“I came to catch the attention of a blonde,” he answered, letting go of her knee. She immediately missed his touch, which said a hell of a lot.

Pulse racing, she ignored every shy bone in her body, every instinct that told her with this guy, she might have bitten off more than she could chew, and said, “Well, you have your blonde. What comes next?”

After chugging his drink, he turned more firmly toward her, his knees brushing against her bare thighs as he stood and held his hand out. “Come with me if you want to find out.”

Oh, you can bet your ass I want to find out.