Tempting the Knight (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 2) Read online

  *

  He woke up to the beep of his iPhone alarm refreshed and alert the next day, the case he’d planned out in his head still clear in his mind, to find the bed beside him empty and Zelda gone. The only trace she had ever even been there were the two T-shirts she’d borrowed, that still carried her scent, neatly folded on the couch, and the note stuck to his coffee pot written in a looping blue scrawl which read:

  Thanks for everything, counselor. You’re a prince.

  Zx

  He scrunched up the note in his fist, as all his carefully rehearsed arguments wadded up in his throat. She hadn’t even stuck around to say goodbye? But as he showered and shaved and got ready for his next day in court, the last thirty-six hours reeled back through his head and hope blossomed under the hurt.

  This was fixable. He’d call Faith, get Zelda’s cell number, and contact her, to arrange a date to meet up. All he needed was a chance to make his case.

  If she wasn’t interested, if he’d read her all wrong and made a mistake about her feelings, he would respect the rules they’d agreed to and he wouldn’t contact her again.

  But until she told him that to his face, as far as he was concerned all bets were off. Because he wasn’t a prince, he was just an ordinary guy. And unlike when he was a kid and his Pop told him he had to leave Coney Island for another summer—there was no freaking way he was going to do as he was told this time, without putting up a fight.

  Chapter Nine

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  Zelda entered the comforting half-light of Sullivan’s pub on a Thursday night ten days later, not feeling at all comfortable. She scanned the bar and the tables at the back by the stage, where Faith’s twin brothers, Ronan and Casey, were warming up the small Thursday night crowd with an old, rebel ballad on accordion and guitar. She sent the two of them a quick wave, then headed towards the last booth opposite the bar where she knew her friends would be waiting. She spotted the posters of Faith’s younger brother Finn’s illustrious career as a concert violinist which Faith had tacked up during the party at the pub a couple of months ago. She passed the fireplace and the portrait of John F. Kennedy which hung above it, letting out the breath she’d been holding, and ignored the jabbing pain, that might just be regret, under her left breast.

  It was good that Ty wasn’t here. She didn’t want him to be here. Skipping out on him while he slept on Tuesday morning over a week ago had been tough enough. Not to mention letting the succession of calls from him the next day and the day after on her mobile go to voicemail. It was cowardly, she knew that, but they’d had an agreement. And he’d broken it. And she wasn’t sure she would be able to do and say what she had to say if she heard his voice again.

  She blinked away the emotion as she made her way past a group of city workers, remembering the hushed apology Ty had given her their last night together. A hushed apology that had moved her in a way she couldn’t allow herself to be moved.

  There were reasons why she couldn’t contemplate a relationship with anyone, but she especially couldn’t fall for someone like Ty. A guy who was genuine and kind and nurturing. She’d heard him hesitate, while she lay listening to his heart beating, her body still humming from afterglow and the sweetness of his apology, as if he were debating whether to say something more. And for one foolish moment she had yearned to hear him say he wanted her to stay, that things had changed, that the rules didn’t matter.

  That what they had was more than a sex thing.

  Recalling that bit of foolishness had terrified her once she’d woken up the next morning, still snuggled against him.

  Thank goodness he hadn’t said it. And when she’d woken up with his arm around her, her flight instinct had finally kicked in. The way it should have done the night before.

  Of course, she could have simply told him the truth. That she was an alcoholic in recovery—and as a result, she would never be able to make a commitment to any man, because her commitment must always be to her recovery. But she hadn’t wanted to say it, hadn’t wanted to shatter the illusion he had of her. Or watch the affection in his eyes die. She didn’t care if it was dishonest, or delusional, she’d wanted to keep that one memory sweet. Telling him the truth would have killed it altogether, and felt like too cruel a price to pay, if she didn’t have to.

  As she edged past the last of the city slickers at the bar, she had another wobble when she noticed a tall, broad-shouldered guy with his back to her, his dark hair curling against the collar of his blue, pinstriped suit. But then he turned and winked at her and it wasn’t Ty.

  “How about a drink, hot stuff?” he said.

  Instead of delivering the flirtatious slap down that would usually have popped out of her mouth, she simply broke eye contact and walked on.

  She spotted Mercy in their designated booth, her luscious hair gleaming ebony in the low lighting. Mercy dropped her head back, the rich throaty laugh carrying over the plaintive melody of Ronan’s accordion and the hubbub of Thursday night conversation.

  Dawn sat beside her, sleek and professional in a crisp blouse and pencil skirt to go with her neat and efficient chignon, probably completely oblivious to the way her smile drew the eye and held it. Like Mercy, Dawn’s face could have put her on any catwalk in the world. But her friends hadn’t taken the easy way out like she had. They’d followed their brains instead of their looks—with Mercy currently taking a break from running her parents’ wine empire to do an MBA at Stern and Dawn heading a medical research company that benefitted the world.

  Tucking away the sting of inadequacy as she approached the booth, Zelda inhaled the scent of yeast and cigarettes that clung to the woodwork despite New York’s smoking ban. She’d always loved the smell of stale smoke, polished wood and hard liquor—a bit too much for a while. But despite the emotional upheaval of the last week and a half, as she had struggled to wean herself off her addiction to Tyrone Sullivan, the temptation to drink had been noticeably absent. Plus, she’d finally begun to take the first steps on a career path that would give her life real meaning. She could be proud of that.

  She was somewhat less proud of the fact she’d seriously considered skipping out on the monthly meet-up with her friends, just in case Ty showed up, but was glad now she hadn’t. Ty wasn’t here and Faith, Dawn and Mercy were her lifeline, her support network. The only family she had that was worth having. Ronan went into a riotous reel joined by his twin brother Casey on the Irish flute and Zel’s spirits lifted out of the doldrums they’d been in ever since she’d left Ty’s house barge.

  She couldn’t tell them about Ty, because of his connection to Faith and Dawn’s relationship with Faith and Ty’s brother Finn, it was way too close to home. Virtually incestuous. But just seeing her friends, hearing their voices, sharing whatever stupid stories they had to tell since the last time they’d met up a month ago ought to help blast her out of her present funk. Hopefully. Maybe.

  Mercy spotted her approaching first and gasped as she leapt out of the booth. “Dios! Zelda, your hair!”

  Zelda laughed and touched her fingers to the boy cut she’d all but forgotten about. Fantasy still hadn’t done a press release on her departure as their ‘it girl’ and when she’d arrived back at the Mausoleum there had been no paparazzi in attendance—so her new look had yet to hit the newsstands.

  Seb’s response when she’d finally gotten up the guts to visit his study on the townhouse’s top floor at the weekend had been to flick his glance up to her hairline and then say nothing. He’d been equally dismissive of her apologies for not showing up at the Foundation Gala the previous Thursday, saying simply, “I find if I expect nothing from you, Zel, I’m rarely disappointed.”

  The cutting remark had stung, as it always did. But she’d tucked the hurt away with more ease than usual, because her misery over Ty had felt a lot more immediate.

  “What do you think?” She slid into the red-leather booth opposite them as Mercy took the seat beside Dawn. “I had a radical hair rethink over Labor Day
weekend.”

  Dawn whistled. “Not that I know much about current hair trends, but I’d say it totally suits you.”

  Mercy clapped her hands in glee. “I love it. It makes those cheekbones look even more incredible. Although…” She paused, her expression sobering. “You’ve given up your modeling career, then?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m finally free of Fantasy. No more ivory tower for me, it’s time to get a proper job.” The mention of her ivory tower brought with it thoughts of Ty and the way he’d sneered the words at her the night he’d come to rescue her from her own stupidity. Which suddenly felt like several lifetimes ago, instead of just a fortnight. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  Good grief, Zel. Now you’re even getting sentimental about his sneer? Seriously?

  Mercy grinned, and leaned across the booth to squeeze Zelda’s hand. “That’s wonderful; it’s the right thing for you.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Dawn toasted her with the Guinness glass in her hand. “That’s terrific, Zel. I’m so glad you finally took the leap. Have you thought about what you’re going to do for your new career?”

  “Actually, I have. The only thing I’m any good at—other than looking good with hair—is my language skills. So I’ve been checking out classes—I’m thinking of becoming an interpreter.” The truth was, she’d never even thought of it until she had checked out the site for the Legal Aid Society—because she’d had an insane urge to look at Ty’s picture—and seen an ad for volunteer translators. She wouldn’t consider working in the same office as Ty, but it had made her think about how much she admired him for what he did, and how she could be useful, too. Maybe not as useful as him, but certainly helpful. Of course, she’d had an awkward moment, when it had occurred to her that even though she’d broken it off she might be looking for his approval, but had discarded the idea. After all, she was never going to see him again.

  “Wow, you look amazing, Zel. Love the cute and sassy new do.” Faith arrived at the booth, toting a jug of the virgin mojitos she always made up especially for Zel. “When did you get that done?”

  “Um…” Zel wrapped her hand round her neck, to cover the burning sensation at her nape. “Over the Labor Day weekend.” At the barbershop next to your brother’s house barge, before I screwed him to within an inch of his life.

  Faith poured Zelda a glass of the fizzy apple juice and lime and mint concoction. The pub didn’t usually sell cocktails, but Faith had learned how to make this one for Zel, so she didn’t feel left out during their girls’ night. Guilt made the blush on Zel’s neck spread across her collarbone.

  “How did everything work out in Sheepshead Bay? Did Ty manage to bust you out of jail?” Faith said, grinning.

  “Zelda was in jail?” Mercy sounded more amused than shocked. “What for this time?”

  “She went skinny dipping on Manhattan Beach and got arrested,” Faith supplied, a little too helpfully.

  “I did not,” Zelda managed, the blush going radioactive. “I had underwear on and it was only a citation. Ty paid the fine, so I need to give you a check to pay him back.” Stupid she hadn’t done that already, but somehow it had felt too final. Too much like the end.

  “I told you he’d help you out,” Faith said, her voice thick with pride. “He can be an awesome big brother when he’s not being too overbearing.”

  “Unlike the one Zel got stuck with,” Mercy said, the caustic edge in her voice surprising Zelda. She knew Mercy didn’t have much time for Seb, even though she’d once had a huge crush on him at school. But it wasn’t like Mercy to be too critical of anyone. She usually saw the best in people.

  Then again, Seb didn’t really have a lot of redeeming features. There was that.

  “Hey, by the way, did Ty manage to reach you?” Faith cut in. “He called me a week ago for your number. Said he needed to talk to you about something. I guess it was to do with your midnight skinny dip,” Faith added, still teasing.

  “Um, yes, he did. It’s all sorted,” Zel lied again, the guilty blush incinerating her neck and working its way into her cheeks. Thank God for the low lighting in the shadowy booth. Even so, she raised the icy mojito glass to roll it across her brow before she caught fire.

  Faith looked at her quizzically. “Are you okay? I could turn up the air conditioning in here. You look a little hot?”

  “Maybe you need another midnight swim?” Dawn said, not at all helpfully. “Then again, two arrests in one month would be a record, even for you.”

  “Ha ha, so glad you guys can see the funny side,” Zel hissed, because she was not seeing the funny side, at all. “I told you, it was only a citation. And Officers Kelly and Mendoza only fined me so they would have a good excuse to take me back to the station house. They were worried about my safety.”

  “Ah, New York’s finest.” Faith heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I hope they were both really hot.”

  “They were both almost as old as your pop, actually,’ Zel said, trying to redirect the conversation away from the extremely dangerous topic of hot men.

  “Silver foxes, then? Maybe?” Dawn asked.

  “Behave yourself,” Mercy said. “You don’t need a silver fox, now you’re cohabiting with the scorchingly hot Finn Sullivan.”

  “Do you mind if we don’t talk about how scorchingly hot my brother is?” Faith said, plaintively.

  “As the woman who had her hands on your brother’s exceptionally hot nekkid butt this morning, I’m afraid I do mind,” Dawn piped up, sending Faith a cheeky grin.

  “Gee, thanks, Dawn,” Faith grinned back, taking the familiar teasing in stride.

  Zelda bit her bottom lip to hold in her groan of distress.

  How the bloody hell had the conversation gotten out of control so quickly? One minute they’d been talking about college classes for translators and the next they’d been discussing Finn Sullivan’s naked butt. Which she would hazard a guess wasn’t a patch on his older brother’s naked butt. Not that she was thinking about Ty’s naked butt. At all.

  Just as she was trying to get that inappropriate thought the hell out of her head, Mercy piped up again. “Talking about Faith’s hot brothers, another one of them just walked into the pub.”

  Dawn craned her neck to get a better look. But already Zelda’s heart was slamming into her ribcage with the force and fury of a sledgehammer—equal parts horror and euphoria. It couldn’t be? Could it? He’d promised he wouldn’t come into the pub while she was here? Then again, he’d promised not to contact her, too. Or hug her and cuddle her and spoon with her, unless erections were involved.

  Don’t think about his bloody erection, are you nuts.

  “It’s Ty,” Dawn said, and the last of the blood drained from Zel’s head, to crash into her already palpitating heart. “And it looks like he’s headed this way.”

  So much for Ty Sullivan being a law-abiding citizen. The man couldn’t even follow a simple set of rules.

  “That’s weird.” Faith swiveled round to look through the crowd, as Zelda shrank into the corner of the booth. “He hardly ever comes into the pub.”

  Maybe he wasn’t even here to see her? It had been over a week since he’d contacted her. This didn’t have to be bad.

  “Hey, Ty, how’s it going?” Faith said.

  “Hi, sis,” came the clipped response in that deep, Brooklyn accent which detonated all over Zelda’s body.

  She concentrated on her mojito, the blush now setting light to her scalp. If she didn’t look at him, maybe he’d go away. She wanted him to go away.

  “I need to talk to Zelda.”

  She could hear the barely leashed temper. She carried on staring at her mojito. She could feel four pairs of eyes on her. But only one set of them, the deep emerald green ones with flecks of gold in the irises, were making her feel as if it the top of her head was about to blow off.

  “What do you need to talk to Zel about?” Faith said, cutting through the tension now crackling in the air.


  “That’s between me and her.”

  Zelda risked a glance and wished she hadn’t. He stood at the end of the booth, his eyes locked on hers. With his tie gone, and the shirt unbuttoned at the neck to reveal his tanned throat, he looked tall and dark in his rumpled business suit and completely and utterly gorgeous.

  “Go away,” she managed, but the demand came out on a mortifying squeak of distress. “You promised you wouldn’t come here.”

  “Fuck that. We need to talk.”

  “We do not need to talk.”

  “Is this something to do with Zelda’s citation?” Faith’s head swung back and forth between the two of them.

  “Butt out, sis. This is between me and Zel.”

  “Don’t talk to Faith like that.” Zel found her voice at last, the guilt consuming her.

  “Forget it, Ty. No way am I butting out,” Faith said. “Until someone tells me what the hell is going on?”

  “I’d say it was fairly obvious what’s going on,” Mercy observed, only the tiniest hint of her native Argentina still present in her flawless English. “Zel and your brother are lovers.”

  Zelda shot a horrified look at Mercy. “How did you know that?” she blurted out, then realized she’d revealed exactly what she had intended not to reveal.

  “Simple,” Mercy replied with unshakeable pragmatism. “There are enough sparks flying between you two to give an innocent bystander an orgasm.”

  “For the love of Christ, Mercy,” Faith groaned. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  “Faith, your brothers are hot,” Dawn jumped in, sending Zelda a sympathetic smile. “Deal with it.”

  “Okay, enough of the chitchat, girls,” Ty cut in, not sounding amused. “Get the hell out of the booth, Faith, so Zel can come out of there and talk to me in private.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Zelda clamped her hand on Faith’s arm, in case her friend decided to obey her big brother’s surly command. “And neither is Faith.”