Wicked for Him: FairyFales, #1

By Rexi Lake

They were meant to fail. 

When the fairytale ends with living happily ever after, what happens to the villains that don't get to ride off into the sunset? Their job wasn't to defeat or overcome; it was to be defeated.

FairyFales are the tales of those characters whose dastardly deeds, evil plans, and wicked ways were foiled. These are the stories that come after that happily ever they don't get a part in.
 

Wicked for Him

A lost object, a second chance, and a little magic led a servant to her prince.

 

Drew was once Cinderella's stepsister. But a chance encounter with a rather unique fairy and an enchantress has given her a second chance to be something other than wicked. Can she find her way to making her own happiness in this new place?

Tate, the half brother to a royal princess, has been attracted to Drew since he first laid eyes on her. He has no idea about her wicked past or anything to do with her fairytale life. As the temptation to make her his rises, will he choose his duty to the crown or the one to his heart?

Maybe a little magic and a lost object will bolster this second chance and teach Drew that sometimes it's okay to be a little wicked…for him. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rexi Lake
• Release date: Aug 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393554288

Rexi Lake

Rexi Lake has been writing stories in her head for as long as she can remember. Her goal was always to write in the genre she loved - romance. She has always believed in the reality of true love, and that the world could use more happily ever afters. She currently lives in southwest Pennsylvania. When she's not hard at work on the next book, she's busy being an accountant, learning guitar, making jewelry, and chauffeuring her socially active daughter to her various activities.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE ~ Drew

You’ve probably read or seen any number of the movies and adaptations out there about Cinderella’s story. Right? Don’t lie. I know I have seen them all. Probably because I’m a glutton for punishment. Why are those punishment? Because I am not Cinderella-like. In fact, you probably know about me because I’m one of the wicked stepsisters. Not Ana. She was whiny. And that awful nasally voice of hers drove me crazy.

No, I’m Dru. Or, at least, I was Dru. When you’re written into a fairytale, you don’t get a choice about your role. I was written to be the bad to El’s good. That was my role, and I played it damn well. But, after all of that ended? After pretty, sweet, good El got her prince? What was I left to do? I didn’t have a fairy godmother to grant me a dream dress and a chance to change my life. I barely had a home that I could feel comfortable in. Maybe I got lucky, or maybe I was given a second chance. I don’t know. All I know is I was visited by a weird little fairy covered in feathers who called herself Quill. Quill didn’t have a wand or pixie dust or any magical abilities really. She was magical because she made the stories come to life thanks to the StoryTeller.

She’s the real author behind our stories. Her magic makes us real. Not the Grimm brothers or the cartoon movie writers. Not any of the other writers who wrote their own twists to our tales and sent them out into the world. The StoryTeller, who is not a wizened old man in a cabin, created us. I met her once. Quill took me to her. She’s an enchantress. Probably. When I saw her, she was dressed like me, looked my age, and lived in an unimpressive home with a few dwarves and fairies walking and flying around doing things like gardening and cooking.

She gave me an opportunity. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to get my own story. Since I’d played out my part for El, my character wasn’t needed anymore. She said I could go learn to be someone new. To be real. Not just the wicked stepsister, playing a role. I could be who I wanted, how I wanted, what I wanted. So I agreed. And a few swishes of Quill’s feathers across a dusty old book later, I was dropped into a world I’d never heard of and had no idea how to navigate. But I learned. I’m quick like that. Street smart. That’s what they call it here.

Now, I’m Drew Stella, designer extraordinaire to the starlets of Hollywood. Okay, that’s stretching the truth a little bit. I have a tendency to do that. But truthfully, I could be that. Except I’m in a binding contract to be the exclusive designer and seamstress to one specific starlet and only her until she retires from the spotlight.

All right, so maybe I wasn’t quite as street smart as I should have been. At least not then. I jumped at the opportunity and damn if I didn’t make a mistake by not reading all the little addendums to that contract of hers. Read the fine print, people. Or get trapped like me.

MISS STARLA NIGHT.

The pop star sensation that splashed her way across the country into the lives and hearts of every girl and boy between the ages of ten and twenty. If they didn’t want to be her, they wanted to be with her. And she was a total mystery. Her voice was crystal clear and captivating. Even I can admit that. Her attire was amazing and brilliant and worth copying. Okay, that’s me bragging. And her private life was utterly private. Literally, no one knew if her name was even Starla. No one knew how old she was. No one knew anything about where she came from. She just appeared. An overnight sensation.

She had a mansion in the Hills that was surrounded by six foot tall iron fence posts and lots of trees. She even owned the airspace above her house so no one could creep a drone or something and spy on her.

She had minimal staff that took care of the house, a security system that was the highest state-of-the-art it could be, and had a full-time bodyguard that stayed with her day and night. That was the rumor, at least. He lived with her. I hadn’t seen anything beyond the entry and one of the many sitting rooms in the house, but I would bet he did live there. And I had to admit, I was jealous of Miss Starla. Not for her voice or her stardom. Not even for her money, although I freely admit, I would love to be more than comfortable in my own financial stability. Nope. I was jealous of that bodyguard of hers. I wanted him like nobody’s business.

He was delicious to look at. Those steely blue eyes that never stopped moving had pinned me in my place the first time she walked into my studio with him. I’d never felt that bone-deep desire before. But he’d done that to me without a single word. Just a look. A hard, dark look that had me thinking all