Page 60 of The Cinderella Prince

Cedric inhaled and exhaled just as deeply, catching his breath. “And you.” He managed a grin, his eyes bright but his eyelids drooping slightly with exhaustion. “I love you, Tristan.”

I looked at him. He was glowing. Sweat and joy combined on his face and lit by the many restless candles in the room, softening his sharp features and making him look like an angel. Or a god, one I would worship for the rest of my days. “I love you, too.”

We lay there in the lazy bliss that followed great sex. We held each other, listening to the other one’s breaths and heartbeat, my head resting on Cedric’s chest at one point and his on mine later. I looked around, tremors of disbelief battering my consciousness.

This is a royal palace, I told myself, not quite believing it.And you love a prince who loves you back.

Laughter tickled me deep inside and bubbled to the surface.

“Huh?” Cedric asked drowsily.

“I…I’m happy,” I said, my hand sliding up and down his muscled arm. “I’m just so happy.”

He smiled and tucked his head under my chin. His palm was open on my left pec, and he caressed my naked torso lightly. “I promise I’ll make you happy for as long as we live.”

And I believed that he would.

Epilogue

Three Months Later

Cedric

Thick snowflakes filledthe evening air, catching the bright lights of the streetlamps. Despite a dark blue wool scarf tied tightly around my neck and the screaming orange beanie Tristan had produced from his wardrobe when I had left his apartment in a hurry, snowflakes found their way to my neck.

The morning had been slow and lazy. Tristan had been warm and beautiful, reluctant to leave the bed, and with an appetite for hot chocolate on a gloomy winter day. I had given him all that, and in return, he wouldn’t let me leave. So we cuddled, and then we did much more than cuddle, and we cuddled some more. But then I needed to hurry to the museum as a representative of the royal family. Thanks to the fact that I practically lived in New York, certain artifacts found their way from the Royal History Museum ofVerdumont to New York. Conveniently, I was asked to attend.

When it all ended, I insisted on being let out of the car a few blocks away from Hudson Burrow. “I don’t mean to be driven around, and I do not want to be followed,” I told my chauffeur. And if my security team could allow me to walk, they certainly didn’t let me walk alone. At a distance, two agents followed me discreetly.

Life wasn’t as liberating as I had hoped, but it was far better than what I had expected just a few months ago.

Instead of going straight to my apartment, I circled the neighborhood. I expected Tristan to be working tonight, so I wandered the streets. As I passed by Rashid’s grocery store, I noticed that the lights were all out and the store shuttered. They had probably gone somewhere together with nobody left to mind the store.

When I reached the corner of Hudson Street and Christopher Street, I let myself into the tall, luxurious building my team had deemed appropriate. I had wanted an apartment deeper in the neighborhood, in a redbrick building like Tristan’s, but they had dismissed it for security reasons. I couldn’t win all my battles.

Someone moving attracted my attention to the far side of the lobby, their black curls slipping out of my view as the elevator doors closed. I muttered to myself as I pressed the button to call the next elevator. While the one that had just escaped ascended high to the top of the building, another one arrived, its doors sliding and letting me in.

Up on my floor, I reached my door, swiped my key, and walked in. The lights in the spacious living room were on,and the sound of feet lightly touching the hardwood floor made me smile. He wasn’t working after all.

I took off the beanie and scarf, then shrugged off my coat before Tristan walked into the living room shyly from the study.

“Hey,” I said. “Got a night off?”

“Yeah,” Tristan said, crossing the room carefully as he approached me. He smiled at me hopefully, then pressed a hot kiss against my mouth. The chill of the night had cooled me down much more than I had realized.

“I wouldn’t have wandered if I knew you were waiting,” I said.

Tristan and I spent most of our free time together. My duties were very relaxed, especially since the elections passed favorably to my family. The moderate parties swept another victory in Verdumont, and the talk of firing my family from the job had subsided. I had plenty of time to focus on things that mattered to me. Not only did Mama Viv put me to good use whenever there were crates to be moved around and I was nearby, but I got to begin my research of queer motifs in Hellenic and Roman mythology.

Tristan’s schedule was less forgiving, but he spent his free hours either with me or planning something to do with me. The sexy lip bite he was performing now was not the same as those he made when he wanted us to undress quickly or die. This was something closer to guilt. “So, the reason I’m not at work,” he said carefully, “is because I couldn’t take Biscuit with me.”

“Biscuits?” I asked, frowning.

“No. Biscuit. Singular. It’s loud at Neon Nights, and Biscuit’s frightened,” Tristan explained hurriedly. “And myplace is overcrowded and loud, plus our landlord never agreed to…erm, letting Biscuit stay with us. I figured this would be a great place for him. It’s not like anyone will complain to the Prince of Verdumont. And it’s only until we figure something out…”

“Tristan?” I asked, trying to keep my voice cool and firm, but it bubbled with humor and happiness. I knew. I always knew. This was who Tristan was, and I wouldn’t want him to change if it spared me a thousand headaches. “What is Biscuit?”

Right on cue, a whimper-bark of a puppy who was only discovering his voice reached us from the bedroom.

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