Diamonds and Toads: A Modern Fairy Tale (8 page)

* * *

Chas sat back in his chair. What was he
supposed to do now? He couldn’t force her to hand over her money.
He guessed he’d have to go back to the proverbial drawing board and
see if he could come up with some other means of persuasion. But
the subject was spent for tonight, at least. Before he let it drop
entirely, he tried one last tack. “Let me at least safeguard a
small portion of it—say five million?—that way, if things don’t go
the way you plan, you’ll still have a safety net working for
you.”

“Thanks, but I’ll just leave some aside in my
bank account and let it draw interest. It won’t earn as much as it
would under your glowing expertise, but I really feel the need to
do this all by myself, okay?”

He had no choice but to say, “Okay.”

* * *

Delilah could tell she’d hurt Chas’s
feelings. Or bruised his ego. But she couldn’t take the chance of
losing the fortune and putting her family back in the weeds again
financially. But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t taking his words
to heart. He was right: if she weren’t extremely careful and
cunning, she could lose it all anyway with a bad investment or
two.

Maybe she should keep the money in the bank a
little longer while she took a few classes on investing. Yeah, that
seemed like the best course of action.

With that decided, she gleefully took another
bite of her pizza. How long, she wondered, before they could return
to the bedroom?

* * *

Three nights later, Delilah swirled around
the floor of the Regan family ballroom with John Regan, Chas’s
father. Something wasn’t right between her and Chas. Hadn’t been
since the morning after their night of love. He hadn’t called or
come over since leaving her at six a.m. two mornings ago and
tonight he’d barely said three words to her, except of course, when
they were in the company of others. “Did you see where Chas went,
Mr. Regan?” she asked, looking around.

He jerked his head in the direction of a set
of sheer-curtained French doors. “I think he’s out on the
balcony.”

She nodded. “Mmm.” With every new pass, her
eyes drifted to the doors. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to scare
him off—was it the domme thing? Maybe she’d gone too far by using
the flogger on him. But he’d seemed to like it at the time, so
she’d allowed herself a little indulgence. What a dummy she was to
have done such a thing! No doubt, after he’d had time to think
about it, he’d realized she was way too freaky for him. And what
worried her now was that he might have spent the past couple of
days trying to figure out how to break his engagement to her.

“It’s not you,” Chas’s father said. “It’s the
blasted state of our business that’s got him so tied up in knots.
He’s worried he won’t be able to get the funds by Monday.”

Her head flashed around. “What? What did you
say?”

He looked like he’d swallowed a 20-carat
gemstone. “I take it he hasn’t told you about our little
problem?”

“No, he hasn’t,” she replied, too stunned to
say more.

With a look of chagrin, he said, “I really
put my foot in it this time, didn’t I?” He patted her shoulder and
dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry, I know my son. He’ll
fix the whole mess in time. He’s been sweating bullets and pulling
long hauls for the past two days trying to get his hands on the
last of the liquid funds he needs to get them off our backs.”

Chas needed money?
Chas
?
The
finance guru extraordinaire? It didn’t seem plausible. But, clearly
it was true. Which raised the question:
Was it really her money
he was interested in all along?
Her throat closed up.

The waltz ended and Delilah excused herself.
She made a beeline for the French doors. She found him leaning
against the balcony rail, smoking a cigarette. She moved to stand
beside him. “I thought you quit after your mother’s funeral.”

He started and swung his head around. “I did.
This is my first and last one since.”

She slid her hand back and forth along the
top of the railing and looked out into the twinkle-lights that
illuminated the garden below them. “Your father told me about
what’s going on with your business. Was that why you tried to
persuade me to let you manage my money?”

He didn’t answer right away, as if he were
weighing his response carefully. “Yes, but,” He turned his body
toward her and placed his hand over hers, “I was going to pay you
back every cent I borrowed. With interest, I swear it.”

“I believe you.” It took every ounce of
courage she had in her to ask the next: “Is that why you asked me
to marry you? To gain access to my money?”

The truth formed on Chas’s tongue before he
swallowed it. It slid down his throat like a bitter tonic, but he
just couldn’t hurt her that way, especially not after their night
together, and certainly not now that he was sure he was in love
with her. Had been, probably, for months now, but just too wrapped
up in his problems to see it for what it was. The glow from the
strung lights over their heads illuminated the soft beauty of her
face, the fluid grace of her lovely lavender-silk encased form and
he couldn’t catch his breath. He wanted her for himself. And if
that meant adding one more lie to the heap, so be it. He’d tell her
the truth on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. He pulled himself
up straight, tucked his hands in his pockets, and gave her his best
offended look, keeping his eyes focused on her furrowed brow. “How
could you think that? I did
not
ask you to marry me to gain
access to your money. Yes, I wanted to borrow some of your funds
for a few months without telling you, but only because I was
worried you would not want to marry me if you knew the straights I
was in.” He captured her gaze. “Which, incidentally, I know I can
swing back in my favor in a matter of mere months. But I’d never
bind myself for life to someone just for their money, Delilah. Why
should I, when I’m perfectly capable of making my own fortune?”

Delilah was quiet a moment. He could tell by
the look on her face that she wanted to believe him, but was having
to wrestle with her misgivings.

He hated like hell to do this, but she needed
an extra nudge. “If I had not intended to ask you to marry me—why
did I have a ring already picked out?”

A thrilled smile brightened her face and her
hand gripped his arm. “Oh, Chas! I forgot!” She clucked. “Were you
really worried that I wouldn’t want to marry you?”

He looked down, petulant. “Yes, I was.”

She gave him a hug, then reached up and
kissed him on the cheek. “Silly boy.” He put his arm around her
waist. They stood there in silence for a long moment. “Chas,” she
said finally, “I’m going to give you the money you need, but before
I do, there’s something you should know about it.”

He only heard the first part of what she
said. His heart beat a happy Sousa march in his chest as he turned
and grasped her shoulders. “Really? Are you sure? But, it’ll only
be a loan—I won’t take your money otherwise, agreed?”

“Chas, listen first. You may not want it
after I tell you this.”

That worried him. “What’s the problem?”

She nibbled her lip with her teeth.

He shook her a little. “What?”

“Do you believe in magic?”

“Huh?”

“Magic. You know, charms imposed by fey folk
and the like?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well that’s a pity, because the money’s
charmed. A gift from the Perrault family fairy.”

Oh, God, she’s legally insane.
“The
Perrault family fairy?” he said carefully.

“Chas, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the
absolute truth—ask my stepmother, she’ll back me up on this.”

“Okay, let’s just say that I believe you.
That the money’s charmed. How does that effect what I’m trying to
do?”

“That’s just it. The fairy came to visit me
the morning after you discovered me outside my friend’s dungeon.
She told me I couldn’t allow you control of my money or it would
vanish the moment you tried to use it. That’s why I told you I’d
handle it myself. So you see—I don’t know whether it’s going to do
you any good or not.”

She was right, this was crazy. But he needed
her money too badly to deal with her mental state right now. And he
damned well
was
going to talk to Eudora Perrault about this
fairy business. He needed to know how long these fantasies had been
going on. But first, he needed the money. He’d worry about his
fiancée’s level of sanity later.

* * *

“Quite a night, huh?” Chas asked her outside
her door later.

“Yes, quite.” The engagement party had been
both a success and a bizarre disaster all at the same time. While
most of the guests enjoyed themselves, the Perraults managed to
become the butt of their social set’s jokes once more. Her sister
had created a video memoire for her, yet it had turned out to be
more of an exposé of Eudora’s determination to get Isadora wed to
any one of their social set’s eligible bachelors. Why had Isadora
made that video—and shown it to everyone? She hadn’t been herself
in days, and Delilah was beginning to suspect that it was somehow
the fairy’s doing. Eudora, of course, was beside herself. She’d
hauled Isadora out of the ballroom by her arm amid sniggers and
murmurs from the crowd of onlookers. That was the last Delilah had
seen of either of them all evening. She assumed they were both home
now, albeit Isadora with a little less skin after her tongue
flaying by her mother. Luckily, Chas and his dad had a sense of
humor and brushed it all off to the crowd as a planned joke.

As she turned the key and swung her door
open, Delilah made a mental note to give her sister and stepmother
a ring tomorrow to see how they were and tell them that Chas and
his father saved the day. “Would you like some tea before bed?”

Chas’s lips pursed. “Listen, Dee, I’m not
staying over tonight. I can’t. There’s too much I’ve got to put
together in order to get that money wired to my creditors by
Monday. Will you come by the office at ten a.m.? I’ll have the loan
contract ready for you to sign by then.”

She deflated, but she understood. He needed
to concentrate on putting out the fire at hand before he could give
his full attention to fueling a blaze of their own. “Okay.” She
kissed him goodnight and let him leave without an argument.

* * *

Chas relentlessly relived the events of the
evening, of the past days, and even the past months. It didn’t make
sense: Delilah wasn’t truly insane. She couldn’t be. Her inability
to tell the difference between fantasy and reality would have shown
up in other myriad ways, and they hadn’t. He still didn’t believe
her about the fairy. In fact, now that he had more time to think
about it, he realized it must have been some last minute, cooked up
attempt to keep some control over her money. Maybe she thought that
she could scare him into not taking it? Was she afraid he wouldn’t
pay her back? No, he didn’t think so. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have
offered to
give
it to him. Or had she? Maybe when she’d said
give
she’d really meant
loan
and he’d rightly assumed
she meant the word literally.

She’d no doubt drop the fairy story line once
she got her hands around a contract—substantial proof that he’d
repay the loan.

* * *

The sound of high-pitched trilling startled
Chas awake. He glanced at his clock. Five-thirty-seven. He’d barely
been asleep an hour, what with all the emails he’d composed.
Stumbling out of bed, he moved toward the noise. It seemed to be
coming from his living room.
What the hell was that?
It
didn’t sound like anything he owned. Maybe it was a car alarm down
on the street, the sound somehow thrown so that it seemed
closer.

A little dizzy and off balance from so little
rest the past few days, he rubbed the base of his palm into his
eye.

The living room was dark and he stubbed his
toe on the edge of the sofa as he passed a smidge too close to it.
That woke him up. He cursed a blue streak, hopping on one foot and
rubbing the abused member until the sharp pain subsided enough to
stand on it again. The trilling had stopped in the midst of his
outburst, but he turned the light on anyway, curious to see what it
might have been.

“What the hell?” He blinked. Then blinked
again. The image didn’t change. Perched on a lampshade, a yellow
cockatoo stared back at him. Chas took a step toward it and it
flapped its wings and hissed. “Okay, birdy, don’t have a tizzy.”
How in hell had the bird gotten in here anyway? He did a quick scan
of his door and windows. They were all shut tight. Crazy. Had it
been in here when he got home, maybe hiding somewhere? Maybe one of
the maids had left it here? It was a stretch, but they were the
only ones with access to his hi-rise. He’d have to talk to
management about it later in the day.

The bird started singing. He recognized the
tune, but couldn’t understand the words at first. Then it came to
him:
Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend.
A trickle of fear
ran up his spine. That was just a little too coincidental and
creepy for comfort. A loud
pop!
sounded followed by a
pungently scented purple mist. He stumbled back, shouting,
“Ohhh
shit!”
The hairs on his arms and neck stood straight up. He
grabbed the first thing he could find to use for defense, a heavy
brass candlestick off one of the end tables, and fled toward the
door.

“Ooh. No need for such”—an inhaled
breath—“dramatics, Chas daarling,” a familiar, sweet and smoky
voice said.

He swung around. Marilyn
Monroe?

“Come sit beside me and we’ll…ooh…have a
little chat, shall we?” She dipped her lids and puckered her lips
at him. Lounging with one knee on his sofa, she was dressed in the
same billowy halter dress she’d worn in that movie where the breeze
from the subway lifted her skirts so high, it nearly gave fifties
moviegoers their first-ever famous celebrity beaver shot.