Wishing Well(76)
“Except, in fairytales, the perfect timing has more to do with the prince sweeping in to save the fair maiden, his actions allowing just enough time for the reader to think she’ll perish, but then there he is on his white horse, slaying the villain. And as you know the prince and the maiden kiss, their bodies disappearing as they ride off into the sunset. The perfect timing of fairy tales are intricately tied to the happy ending. However, in this particular fable - although there is a prince, there is a maiden, there is a villain, there is a kiss, and there is a sunset - the perfect timing is tied to its tragedy.”
A shiver coursed down her spine, pain and sorrow shredding her heart, images flashing through her thoughts. “Just tell me what happened, Vincent. I’ve lost enough time due to your meeting with your attorney. I don’t have much more to go before you die.”
Weaving his fingers together over the surface of the table, Vincent leaned forward to close some of the distance between them. “And so it happened, on a night that should have been pure joy for the prince and his maiden, the villain swept in to steal that happiness for himself, if only to exact revenge...”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Vincent
“I mean it, Maurice, stop trying to shove food in my mouth in front of Vincent. Your jerk of a brother will get ideas and pretend to try it himself while actually just stabbing me with a fork!”
Penelope’s laughter was an infectious joy lighting the face of my brother, my eyes locked on his expression with utter disbelief. In a matter of weeks, Penelope had been able to accomplish what everybody else had not: She’d shown a man who was trapped by his own emotional turmoil how to come out from beneath the weight of it and learn how to live again. The counselors, the doctors, not even my mother, had been able to accomplish that. And for what Penelope had done, I would forever be in her debt.
Not that I would admit that debt. Not to her, at least. Lord knows she would wait for the most inopportune moment to demand her pound of flesh. Although Maurice loved her more than he could even love himself, I still saw her for the rebellious, Dirty Girl I’d discovered on the streets. But that didn’t mean I could ignore the gratitude I had for her ability to return a member of my family to me.
Lips pulled into a smile, Maurice shoved the fork at her once again, the food spilling over to dribble down her chin. “I’ll kill him if he stabs you. He knows that.” Turning to flash me a fake snarl, Maurice asked, “Right, Vincent?”
“C’est vrai, mon frère .”
It was in moments like this, I wondered if I was dreaming. This change in him wasn’t possible.
Two weeks had passed since I’d agreed to taking Maurice out into the garden at sunset, fourteen days wherein Penelope hunted me down demanding that I make good on my promise. I’ll admit nervousness had kept me from finally relenting, and for those two weeks, I found excuses for why it couldn’t happen that night. However, I’d run out of excuses, and tonight, while the sun was still partially in the sky and was busy lowering itself over the horizon to become a web of brilliant, beaming color, Penelope and I would walk Maurice out while there were still people lingering around the gardens to see how he reacted to the attention.
In truth, my brother was a good-looking man, not quite as tall as me, but broader, his physique better defined. His hair was just as dark and wild, curled at the ends where it dusted his shoulders. And his eyes, like mine, were the color of emeralds that could lure a saintly woman into the bowels of Hell. He would attract attention whether he liked it or not, but hopefully with Penelope at his side, he could ignore the idle glances and the curious stares.
Penelope took the bite he was offering, her lips sliding slowly along the tines of the fork as he pulled it away, their focus locked on each other. To see him so happy, to feel his contentment from across the room, I had a moment of jealousy for my brother. In all my years, in the freedom I’d had to explore the world, never had I looked at a woman like that.
But, that’s fine. I would still fuck them, and that would just have to be good enough for me.
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat, “I should probably get going before you two strip down and start mating with each other right in front of me. By the looks you’re throwing across the table, I just envisioned a reverse cowgirl occurring on top of your lunch.”
Penelope turned her head and glared. “Not funny, Vincent.”
Maurice grinned. I was giving him ideas apparently.
Laughing as I left, I returned to my office with a skip to my step. Life had just become less irritating at the Wishing Well, a bit of light added to the secret hidden in the basement. I’d been at my desk for a few hours when a familiar face walked through the door.
“Hello, Vincent. Long time no see. Has your newest toy been keeping you busy and out of touch?”
Glancing up from my computer, I watched Barron stroll in to take a seat. As usual, his blond hair was perfectly styled, his suit impeccable, his eyes focused on me with the arrogance only a man like him could have. As rich as me, as powerful in this city, he walked as if he owned everything within sight, and had he not been currently in my hotel, that would have been true. Barron was a entrepreneur with his name on most of the nightclubs, restaurants and bars around town.
“Barron, it has been quite a while. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you for lunch the last several times you asked. I’ve had my hands full with the hotel and my brother.”