Wickedly Charming (28 page)

He could manipulate the reporter into telling the story Charming wanted to tell, not the story that everyone believed after Cindy Jordan's hatchet job.

He sighed again, and this time, the sigh was heartfelt.

“All right,” he said. “When do you want me to do it?”

“As soon as we can get someone down here,” Groton said. “The sooner we quash this story, the better.”

Mellie nodded. Charming's stomach knotted.

“And LaTisha,” Groton said to the woman at the far end of the table, “call the interviews we already have set up. Tell them we'll be there, and we'll be sending over a statement beforehand, just so that they know this controversy is bogus.”

“Okay,” she said and left the room.

Groton looked at Mellie. “Is there any other reason this screenwriter would badmouth you?”

Groton was smarter than Charming would have liked. But Mellie didn't flinch.

“He wanted to date me,” she said. “And I said no.”

“The truth is,” Charming said, “that when she said no, he made a scene in the coffee shop and got kicked out for good. He was a jerk. I'm sure everyone, from the barista to the regulars, will corroborate that.”

“And you two,” Groton said, looking at Mellie and Charming. “What exactly is your relationship?”

Charming put his hand over Mellie's.

“That,” he said quietly, “is entirely between us.”

Charming's answer to the head of publicity had been absolutely perfect—and completely infuriating. Mellie wanted him to tell them that he cared for her, that they were more than friends. But it wasn't any of their business, and besides, he hadn't told his own daughters yet.

She understood, and wished she hadn't.

But she loved the feel of his hand over hers. And she loved the way he had ridden to her rescue, even though she had never been a woman who needed rescuing before.

Charming kept his hand on hers for the rest of the meeting, just resting lightly on her skin, making her feel warm and safe. Anne Groton looked at their joined hands from time to time, and said nothing.

Then when the meeting was over, Groton told Mellie to come to her office to check the revised schedule, while Phillips asked Charming to stay in the conference room. They would have a reporter join him shortly.

“Mellie should stay too,” Charming said.

Phillips shook his head. “On this one, they do separate interviews. The important interview is with you.”

Charming sighed.

“I'll meet you out front,” Mellie said, and he nodded, looking trapped and uncomfortable.

She went to Groton's office. The schedule was slightly different—more interviews crammed into tomorrow than initially planned. Mellie had to do two print interviews here at the publishing house, and she got to see those journalists after Phillips and Groton finished with them.

Mellie had no idea which journalist was interviewing Charming, and she really didn't want to know.

Groton promised Mellie a quiet night, since the rest of the tour would be crazy.

“I'd offer to take you to a spectacular dinner,” Groton said, “but I have a hunch you want to spend time with your charming ghost writer.”

The way she said it meant she understood exactly how Mellie felt about Charming.

Mellie didn't exactly know how to answer. Groton smiled. “I'd want to have dinner with him too. He seems like a very nice man.”

“He is,” Mellie said.

“Let me get you some cash,” Groton said. “That way we still pay for your dinner—”

“No,” Mellie said. “I can afford it.”

“I know,” Groton said, “but that's not the point. This trip is all on us.”

“Then I'll give you the receipt and you can reimburse me,” Mellie said.

Groton smiled. “Deal.”

Mellie sighed, feeling more tired than she had in days, maybe weeks. The stress of the tour finally hit her. “Am I done for the day?”

“You are,” Groton said, “but remember, we need you at 6 a.m. sharp. You're diving in with both feet. Howard Stern in the morning. And he won't be easy on you.”

“He wouldn't have been easy on me even if there had been no scandal,” Mellie said.

“Exactly,” Groton said. “So be rested.”

Mellie nodded. She thanked Groton and said she could find her own way out. Which was easier said than done. Every corridor looked the same.

Finally, she had to ask a woman in one of the cubicles how to get to reception. The woman gave detailed instructions, as if Mellie were about to embark on a trip into the wilderness, and then set her free.

Eventually, Mellie found that steel door she had come through in what felt like days ago. As she touched the door, she smiled. Going from the reception to the real world of publishing felt like going from a Grimms' Fairy Tale to the real world of the Kingdoms. The Kingdoms had some elements of Grimm, but it wasn't truly magical and it wasn't pretty and it certainly wasn't what you expected.

Mellie pushed the door open and stepped into the brightly lit reception area. Charming hadn't arrived yet. The receptionist smiled at Mellie from the desk. Mellie crossed to one of the couches. As she sat down, she realized that two other people were in the room.

They sat on the couch which was on the same wall as the door she had just come through, which was why she hadn't seen them. She recognized them instantly.

Charming's daughters.

They were much more beautiful in person. They had the same glamour that most people from the Kingdoms had, a bit of something extra that made them seem more alive than the average person in the Greater World.

The youngest, Grace, sat with her feet tucked underneath her, leaning against the arm of the couch, a book in her hand. She wasn't reading, even though she pretended to be. She looked at Mellie over the top of the book.

Mellie smiled at her.

Grace looked down at the page, pretending not to see her.

The other daughter, Imperia, was much more formidable. She had the reedy thinness girls got just before they headed into puberty. She would be tall and glamorous. She had pale blond hair and her father's bright blue eyes. She was stunning—or she would be if she smiled.

Mellie had a sense that Imperia didn't smile much at all.

The girl seemed desperately unhappy.

“You're the woman who was in our hotel room last night,” Imperia said.

Mellie wasn't going to lie to her. “Yes.”

The receptionist gave them all a sympathetic look, then grabbed a pile of papers, and excused herself for a moment. She went through a door behind the desk that Mellie hadn't noticed before. The door was the same color as the wall, apparently designed to be unnoticed.

Mellie frowned. It seemed as though the receptionist was trying to give them privacy.

“You know who my dad is, right?” Imperia said.

“Yes, I do,” Mellie said.

“You know what they call him.” Imperia's spine was straight. She had perfect princess posture. Grace looked over at her with an expression bordering on fear.

But fear for whom? Mellie? Or Imperia? Or just fear of a scene?

“They call him many things,” Mellie said.

“He's Prince
Charming
,” Imperia said. “He's the
handsome
prince.”

“I know,” Mellie said. She would not let herself smile. She didn't want Imperia to think Mellie was patronizing her. Because Mellie wasn't. She wanted to hear what Imperia had to say.

“And you know what a handsome prince's job is, right?” Imperia asked.

To live happily ever after?
Mellie almost said, but stopped herself in time. Right now, from Imperia's point of view, her father had no happily ever after. He had just divorced their mother.

“His job,” Imperia said before Mellie could come up with a second answer, “is to rescue damsels in distress.”

“Oh,” Mellie said, and felt her heart sink. Of course, Imperia was right. Saving damsels in distress was as natural to Charming as, well, his charm.

“You're not the first one he's rescued,” Imperia said.

“Imp,” Grace whispered, as if she didn't want to be part of the conversation.

But Imperia didn't look at her.

“He makes them all feel safe and special and oh, so important, but they're not. They're just damsels, and he's just doing his job.” Imperia spoke with great force. She didn't have her father's charm, but she had something stronger. She had certainty.

Mellie's gaze met hers.

“You're just the latest damsel,” Imperia said. “There will be another.”

And that was the sentence that made Mellie take a deep breath. Suddenly she recognized this emotion. Imperia was only twelve. She was terrified. Her father was divorced, and now he had spent a night with another woman. Even if Imperia didn't know that they had made love, she knew that Mellie had been in the room with him.

Imperia knew that they were more than friends.

And she felt threatened.

Mellie felt her own shoulders relax.

“I know that's what he does,” Mellie said. “And I can't tell you how grateful I am that he helped me.”

Imperia's eyes narrowed. She had clearly hoped to upset Mellie—and she had nearly succeeded.

“What were you doing in our room?” Imperia asked.

“Trying to figure out how to solve a problem with my book,” Mellie said. “We had to have a meeting on it today, and last night was the only time.”

“He kissed you,” Imperia said.

Mellie nodded. “I kissed him back.”

“Do you love him?” Imperia asked.

Mellie looked at the girl. Mellie didn't want to lie to her, but she also didn't want to tell her the truth. In Imperia's life, she had probably seen dozens of women fall for Prince Charming.
This
Prince Charming.

The real Prince Charming.

Her father.

Mellie leaned back, trying to think of the best way to answer.

Charming had just left his interview with the
New York Times
reporter when he saw the receptionist scurry by him. His heart started pounding.

Why had she left her post?

Why had she left the girls alone?

He pushed his way past the cubicles, not stopping in the publisher's office like he'd been asked to do. They had already let him know what they wanted: they wanted him to write a book under his own name—

Anything you want
, Phillips said,
so long as it's fiction. You're a spectacular writer
.

I told you,
Charming said,
it's Mellie's words
.

And your ability to make them clear,
Phillips said.
Not to mention your ability to tell a story
.

Charming didn't want to think about that right now, just like he didn't want to think about the reporter he saw. At least he'd been able to sway her. Charm had worked beautifully, helped by the fact that she had no respect at all for ghost writers. She was perfectly willing to believe that it was Mellie, and Mellie only, who made
Evil
work.

Her news story—“An Interview with a Ghost,” she said she'd call it—would go a long way to repairing the damage done by Cindy Jordan.
Besides
, the
Times
reporter told Charming,
Cindy Jordan had been fired from two stations for
embellishing her research. I wondered, when this story broke, if she had embellished here.

And she made it seem like she would check. He would let her. Everything would work out. The tension in the publishing house had eased. Now he just had to tell Mellie, and gather up his girls.

If, indeed, they were okay. The threat from Ella had ended, but that didn't mean his girls should be left alone in the reception area.

He opened the double steel doors to see Mellie, sitting on the couch, looking a bit bemused. Across from her, Imperia had gone into full imperial mode.

Charming eased the door closed quietly. No one noticed him except Grace. She started to say something, but he put a finger to his lips. Her eyes smiled at him, clearly liking the fact that they had a momentary secret.

“He makes them all feel safe and special and oh, so important, but they're not,” Imperia was saying. She sounded angry. “They're just damsels, and he's just doing his job.”

His poor daughter. He had no doubt these words had come directly from Ella's mouth, more than once. He had so much work ahead to repair the damage that Ella had done.

“You're just the latest damsel,” Imperia said bitterly. “There will be another.”

He looked at Mellie. She took a deep breath. His breath caught too. He didn't know what he would do if she believed this nonsense. She already had troubles because of who he was. She felt herself unworthy, as if he was something special.

He was a divorced dad who owned a bookstore. Nothing more. At least, nothing more in the Greater World. In the Kingdoms, he was even more of a failure. Everyone knew he would never be King, not with his dad hanging on forever.

Mellie tilted her head slightly as if she were assessing Imperia.

“I know that's what he does,” Mellie said. “And I can't tell you how grateful I am that he helped me.”

Charming let out that small breath he'd been holding. He hadn't expected that answer from Mellie. Neither, he noted, had Imperia.

Imperia's eyes narrowed. He privately called that her “incoming” look. It meant she was going to let something nasty fly.

“What were you doing in our room?” she asked.

“Trying to figure out how to solve a problem with my book,” Mellie said. “We had to have a meeting on it today, and last night was the only time.”

God, Mellie was good. In fact, she was spectacular. She wasn't letting Imperia get to her. Mellie seemed to know exactly what to do.

So, of course, Imperia ratchetted up the tension.

“He kissed you,” Imperia said.

Mellie smiled. The smile was warm and a bit personal, as if she had remembered the moment. He remembered it. He loved kissing her.

Mellie nodded. “I kissed him back.”

Imperia's frown grew. She was getting angry because she couldn't control Mellie.

“Do you love him?” Imperia asked.

Good question, he thought. He finally was beginning to understand what Mellie had said about Snow White. Snow had been slightly older when Mellie had married into the family. And Snow was grieving the loss of her mother.

Snow had challenged her, just like Imperia was doing.

This must have felt very familiar to Mellie.

He wanted to hear the answer, but he knew that any answer—yes, no, maybe—would only make Imp angrier. He wanted Mellie in his life. And that meant teaching his girls how to get along with her.

So he spoke up.