A Prince's Ransom: Kidnapped by the Billionaire (27 page)

“What need? There was no need! I was totally gonna start walking, I promise!”

“Of course, but that’s not the need I was referring to. I was referring to my need. I couldn’t wait to see you, and that long walk in this ridiculous gown—”

“Your mother picked it out!” she interrupted.

“—would have taken you forever, and I just couldn’t wait that long.” Eric continued their slow pace, his hand covering hers at his elbow, his strength steadying her and his voice soothing her frayed nerves.

“Oh my god, who built this freakin’ church? Who needs an aisle longer than a football field?”

“We are almost there, Kat. Do not worry.”

“I’m not worried, I’m tired of walking!” she whined under her breath. “And okay, I’m a little bit worried.”

“I knew you were. You do this adorable thing when you’re worried where you sort of scowl, and in my experience, there’s an excellent chance you’ll follow that up by saying something crude. I thought I might retrieve you before you had the chance to call someone a cocksucker.”

Katherine stifled a snort of laughter, so shocked at Eric’s statement. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to say that in church. And I’ve never called anyone that... to their face.”

“Perhaps not, but you’re no longer thinking about how long this walk is, are you?”

Katherine smiled, won over by Eric’s attempt at humor. She faltered again for only a flash when she caught sight of Lady Brigitte sitting in a pew about fifteen rows back. At first Katherine felt a stab of fear, then suddenly, that feeling turned to sympathy. She couldn’t imagine the shame of being required to attend an ex-fiancé’s wedding, just because royal protocol dictated it.

“Why did you really come get me?” Katherine finally asked, a humorous hint of accusation in her voice. “Was it because you thought I’d fall in these stilts they made me wear?”

“Those are Christian Louboutin shoes, my dear, not stilts,” he corrected her. “And they were necessary so we looked somewhat matched in our portraits.”

“Why do you even know who the designer is? Wait, are you in the closet? I need to know this now!”

“I think I proved that to be an incorrect assumption last night...three times, if memory serves,” he answered with a leer. “Christian is a friend of the family, that’s why I know who designed your shoes.”

“Of course he is,” she said with a sigh. “So then, seriously...why the break with tradition when you raced to the back of the church? I thought I was the only one who didn’t know how to conduct myself at a royal function!”

“It wasn’t about behavior. It was because you are the love of my life, the center of my entire universe,” he muttered to her without breaking his carefully poised expression. “And you will never, as long as I live, ever walk alone.”

Katherine’s vision blurred again, but this time she knew why. She couldn’t hold back the smile that broke out on her face, and she dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief she’d been required to tuck into her sleeve.

“I kinda love you, Eric. You know that?” she asked, smiling up at him. Cameras flashed all around the church and she knew she needed to keep a more serious look on her face to keep things dignified.

“And I am ecstatically in love with you, Your Highness. All along, the fairy stories have said that the prince comes and rescues the fair maiden, but for the first time in all of history, the princess is the one who has saved the prince.”

The End

BONUS BOOK:

One Night with a Bad Boy

(A Redemption Story)

By Ella Slade

Copyright 2016 © Enamored Ink

The rough burlap sack made her quivering breath condense against her lips. She tried to see more than shapes and shadows in the darkness around her, but through the thick, coarse threads, there was no real use in that. A burlap sack, though, really? Wasn’t that just for mobsters in movies? Then again, she added to herself in a frightened squeak, that might well be where she was right about now. The plastic ties were chafing her wrists painfully, and it felt like if she tried to pull on them again, she would cut open her wrists. The air around her smelled musty, and the floor she sat on was cold and hard. It seemed like it was a warehouse of some kind.

There were footsteps echoing on the other side of the room, and she turned her head a little bit toward the sound, although that didn’t help her with seeing them any. No, the movement only seemed to make the guy watching her step nearer and press the hard barrel of the gun against her temple again. Another, silent reminder of what would happen if she made the slightest noise. She shut her eyes tightly inside the sack and tears streamed down her cheeks. She was going to die.

As the cab pulled up to the restaurant, Tobin nervously redid the section of her dark brunette hair she had braided for what had to be the fourth or fifth time. A glance in the driver’s rearview mirror as she paid him told her that it had still looked better the first time, and inwardly she sighed. Still, she climbed out of the cab and straightened a few wrinkles on her pencil skirt before wading through the people on the sidewalk to the front door of the restaurant. For a second, she hesitated, glancing up at the sign to make sure she was in the right place after seeing the room on the other side of the faux-gilded door. Blind dates didn’t usually pick a spot this nice, if they wanted to actually go through the motions of a date to begin with. In her experience, she was pretty enough for a guy, when he first met her, for him to want to get her into bed. Beyond that was a total crapshoot.

But this place was nice. This place seemed quiet, with the distant melody of smooth jazz washing out onto the street, and she could see where a stage would be for a live band. There were no tables too close together, no uncomfortably spaced tables or uncomfortable chairs. Except for a bar—which hosted, amazingly, absolutely no television sets—what she could see of the interior was lots of plush, deep blue booths with wooden tables. Real wood, too—it looked like they actually had grains. Really, was this where a blind date had invited her?

Well, it did make an impression, Tobin decided, even though she glanced down at herself and hoped she looked presentable enough for a place like this. She was already late, though. She definitely didn’t have time to go back home and change, even if she might like to. No, she made sure that the delicate sapphire-esque necklace she wore was facing the right way and that her freshly pressed pink blouse wasn’t riding up on her curves in unsavory ways, and then she actually opened the front door of the restaurant. With a smile plastered on her face, she made her way toward an employee in a semicasual suit standing at the pedestal waiting to greet people. He looked up at her with a smile and dipped his head politely.

“May I help you, miss?” he inquired with just a hint of a French accent.

“Yes, I am meeting someone here. Aaron Westfield?”

“Oh, yes, he’s already arrived. You are Tobin Emerson, then?”

“Yes,” she answered with an inward sigh of relief. Okay, good, she was in the right place. Even if she couldn’t help but feel like she was dreadfully out of place. But this was a good start.

“Right this way, Miss Emerson.” The maître d’ gestured for her to follow him, and she did so. He led her to a booth closer to the stage and the jazz band, the conversations of the people they passed barely rising above a normal speaking voice. It was a massively refreshing change from shouting at dates over various sport games and incredibly loud conversations. After a minute or so, they approached a table where a suave-looking man sat, dressed well but not as fancy as the server was, which she was glad for. He noticed them approaching and stood with a smile. He was as her friend had described him, Tobin decided—not quite handsome and yet far from unpleasant to look upon, with sandy-blond hair and brown eyes.

“Tobin?” She nodded. “A pleasure to meet you. Aaron Westfield.” He held out his hand, and she took it, shaking it gently.

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” she answered as she sat down across from him. “I must admit, I didn’t really expect the first time meeting you to be in a place like this.” Tobin gestured around at the grandeur of it all—geez, there were even murals on the ceiling, although luckily they weren’t naked babies.

“I like having first dates here,” he answered with a chuckle. “It allows time for actual conversation to happen to determine if we should go out on a second date. Not to mention—TVs in restaurants. Who decided that was a good idea?”

She smiled. That was a good answer. “I agree entirely. I thought the point of going out to dinner was for conversation.”

“Exactly. I hope you don’t mind—I took the liberty of ordering some wine already.”

“Oh no, that’s perfect. Thank you.” Tobin reached for the glass in front of her, lifting it to her lips and sipping at it delicately. It was red, a fine vintage, she decided, aromatic and woody. “So, Lisa mentioned that you were a lawyer? Where did you go to school?”

“Berkeley, although Lisa flatters me, with that. I work in a law firm, but I haven’t yet seen a case despite having worked there for four months.” He grimaced in playful self-pity, and Tobin laughed. “But you, you’re a veterinarian?”

“Yes, for three years. I co-own a small practice in South Brooklyn.”

“Oh, wow, that’s quite an achievement—I mean, for someone so young to be able to have their own practice like that. Did you always want to be a vet?”

“No, for a while there I wanted to be a professional ballerina, but I ultimately decided that that wasn’t very practical.”

“I don’t know. I think you would make a lovely ballerina.”

Faintly, she blushed. “When I was fifteen or so, though, our family dog got hit by a car, and we rushed him to a vet, of course. Somehow, despite the injuries he’d gotten in the accident, the vet was able to save him, and he lived a long, healthy life until just a few years ago. I decided that I wanted to be able to do that for someone else someday.”

Aaron smiled. “That’s incredible. I’m more of a cat person, though.”

“So am I, actually.”

She barely had the chance to breathe as Aaron pressed her against the door to her apartment, her fingers fumbling with her keys. His lips were aching against her own, hot and hard and intent as his fingers tangled in her brown hair, undoing the braid she had redone so many times hours earlier. Dinner had gone on for hours—past the first glass of wine and the second and the fifth. Past appetizers and entrees and dessert. Past too many jazz songs that all blurred into one melody, and then into a cab ride where he had only for decency’s sake not grabbed her like he was now. Tobin was surprised they had made it upstairs—she was surprised they had made it this far.

But she managed to find her keys, seconds before his tongue plunged into her mouth to ravish her there. His fingers were undoing the buttons of her blouse, but she managed to disentangle herself long enough to turn around, jam the key into the door and open it up. They were greeted by a chorus of three cats mewing up at them, and she heard Aaron chuckle over her shoulder as he closed the door once they had made it inside. The nearest of the cats, a lovely small calico, started to approach to inspect him, her tail flicking back and forth with an air of disdain, but he paid Tobin’s cats no mind. No, he was grabbing her again before she could so much as make introductions, turning her back around and tugging her curvy body against his chest.

Her hands tangled in his shirt as his lips melded back against her own, smearing what remained of her lipstick across his face, until he was dipping lower. Aaron’s lips, teeth, and tongue grazed over her jaw, onto her throat, as he pulled the hem of her blouse out of her skirt and tugged it down her arms. One of the buttons popped off, not having been undone, but she didn’t much care about that as her body began to burn. Tobin managed to stumble out of her heels and turn her back to the hallway that led to her bedroom. Her cats were following after them with confused curiosity, and Aaron was half-bent over her, his face buried into her breasts even though her bra was still on. She was near to falling over when she grabbed the door frame of her bedroom and hauled them inside, shutting the door against her cats’ intrusion.

He lifted his head from her long enough to take notice of where they were, and stepped back to undo his own shirt. Her breathing was quick, and she tugged down her skirt and her panties, letting them fall in an unceremonious heap on the floor, quickly joined by her lacy white bra, her pink, coin-sized nipples stirring in the darkness of her room. Aaron pushed off the rest of his clothing, already hard and erect as his brown eyes raked over her body, only a few feet from her bed, before he was surging against her. Tobin squeaked as they tumbled into the sheets, one of her pillows bouncing off onto the floor. His lips were on her breasts again, eagerly kissing over every ample inch until he’d come to the peak of one orb, and his mouth engulfed it. She cried out as he began suckling her like he hadn’t had anything to drink in weeks and she was a water fountain.

One of his hands skated down her side, making her giggle involuntarily, before his fingers plunged between her thighs. His other arm was around her waist, and he hauled up onto the bed a bit better, so that her shoulder sank into the remaining pillow as she moaned and parted her thighs. Aaron wasted no time at all, spreading her lower lips and rubbing not-quite-tenderly against her womanhood, smearing her wetness there. Tobin’s toes curled and twisted into the sheets of the bed as she groaned and laced the fingers of one hand into his sandy hair. The other scraped down his back for a second, making him growl and roll his shoulders before she was reaching around. Even with his face buried against her breasts, her fingers found his manhood and delicately grazed along its tip, making it jerk under her touch. Aaron pressed closer to her, and she shifted her hand a bit more, grabbing at his balls and fondling them. He jerked back from her breast with a hiss of desire and slammed her down into the sheets of her bed.

Tobin gasped, spreading her legs a bit wider. For a heartbeat, his thumb found her clit, and she groaned anxiously as he rubbed it mercilessly, making her even wetter, hotter, until her hips were jerking upward and she whimpered, wanting more. He pulled back from her slit, grabbing his cock, and aligned it with her tunnel. It rubbed against her just a little bit, gathering her slickness along its hard length, before they both cried out in unison as he hilted himself inside of her, their hips slapping against one another. Her nails dug into his back again, the other hand wrapping around his shoulder from under his arm, while Aaron’s own hands slammed down on either side of her and he started to pull himself out. Tobin propped up her feet, knees bent, and lifted her hips for him, moaning when he slammed back into her with a sloshing that made her insides twisted into anxious, delighted knots.