The Princess and the Pizza Man (Destined for Love: Mansions), Page 2

  Love is amazing. She couldn’t help the sigh that flitted from her lips. Mel shot her a pair of narrowed eyes before going back to answering questions. One day Mel might find love. In fact, maybe Winter needed to focus her attention on her uptight director instead of whoever walked through those doors next week. Heaven knew Mel could use a bit more fun.

  Winter started playing with the pages of her bio. Princess Winter was a character she played so often and for so long that she hardly needed direction, but she liked to include herself with the other actors—make it seem like an even playing field. She was a drama geek growing up, and living under the roof of her famous father, acting came with the upbringing. But whenever she did the murder mystery week, she couldn’t believe the talent these people had. They almost had her believing she was about to be killed. After all, the whole show revolved around who was going to kill the princess.

  She blew out another breath, getting another death look from Mel and amused laughter from everyone else. Those who’d worked with her on the show before knew that Winter’s mind tended to wander, and that she rarely hid that fact from anyone. It was a miracle she did well with acting. Every emotion she felt was always written over her face… and often said out loud under her breath.

  Princess Winter was a whole lot like real life Winter, which was probably why the act turned out so authentically.

  After a hundred years, Mel stopped talking, Joshua stopped meditating, and Winter stopped unintentionally interrupting. The actors and actresses all passed her on their way to their rooms, all showing more excitement than before. Praises to above for that; Winter worried about someone thinking it just wasn’t worth the pay.

  “Looks like I get another week sending you jealous stares.” Michael leaned against the doorframe, crossing his massive arms and looking like he’d just stepped out of a Big and Tall catalogue. Winter laughed, hopping down from her spot, only coming up to him mid-chest.

  “And I get to act completely oblivious.” Winter had cast Michael in the role of the princess’s ex-lover for the past three years. No one had beaten his audition, and he was a fun guy to have around. Hmmm… maybe he and Mel would work out?

  She laughed at her momentary loss of sanity, and since Michael was used to Winter randomly laughing at something in her head, he let it slide without comment.

  “Do you think we’ll have a good group this time around?” he asked as they made their way down the hall.

  “Oh no,” she said. “I told you no falling in love with any of the guests.”

  He threw his arms up, acting innocent when he was anything but. “I was just curious.”

  “Uh-huh.” She knew that look. Michael wasn’t a player, but he was a big flirt, in and out of character.

  Winter would’ve paired him up with someone already if A) she’d thought he would match with a guest, or B) she wasn’t so afraid of losing another lead actor. Joshua was taking off after this upcoming performance; he’d said he needed something more stable now that he was going to be a husband and hopefully father. She’d known it was coming, but still, she wondered who would fill his talented shoes.

  “Well,” Michael said, tapping her arm with his bio packet, “have a good night, ‘Princess.’”

  “You too.” She smiled as he disappeared behind his door, and she made her way to the elevator. She had the entire top floor to herself—this was her home, after all—and she was eager to get up to her sanctuary and start planning. She had all her guests’ info up there spread out on her bed, and she was going to Facebook stalk. Because when you’re playing Cupid, you have to do your research.

  Good gravy, the place was covered. No false advertising in the namesake.

  Will grimaced at the frosty grass as he pulled out four suitcases—three were Bells’—from the trunk. Bells was already hopping and skipping around like a seven-year-old at the local ‘Bamer Carnival. Will was just trying to keep from freezing to death.

  “You think I’m carrying all these for ya, you’re outta yer skull!” he called out before Bells left him high and dry to handle all her luggage. It wasn’t so much the fact that he was on a forced vacation—being with his sister was all fine and dandy, and truth was, he could use the break—but it had to be northern Michigan, where the springs were like an Alabama winter and the winters were like the ice age. Will did not do the cold, and his seven-layer look was proof enough.

  “It’s really not that chilly out here, Will,” Maybelle said, amusement dancing in her eyes as she skipped back over to him, her exposed arms peppered in goosebumps. Not that chilly, my foot.

  “Most of the activities better be indoors, is all I’m sayin’.”

  “Don’t be such a baby.” She took the handle of one of her suitcases and started rolling it across the cobblestone drive and up to the front doors. She’d probably pass off her speed as excitement, but Will was willing to bet she was just as cold, if not more so, than he was. They were definitely not in Alabama anymore.

  Bells’ knuckles hadn’t even risen to the knocker before the door opened—the famous Monroe loudness must’ve announced their arrival. A woman dressed in a baby blue robe and hair half-curled, half-straightened stood in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she looked them both up and down, but they held a kind sparkle that made Will’s gut feel like it’d fly right up to the sky.

  She looked familiar… Maybe it was her on that pamphlet he gave a two-second glance over. Did she own the place?

  “You’re early,” she said, turning to an older man standing behind her wearing an earpiece. He greeted them both with a nod. “We weren’t expecting any guests until three.”

  Bells pranced right on past and her luggage thunked against the floor, loudly enough that Will could hear it from the driveway. She spun on her heel and squealed, “Where can we settle in?”

  “You could be a bit more gracious, Bells,” he called out. “Miss said not ‘til three.”

  “We’re paying guests, William.”

  “You wanna get kicked out before we even get checked in?”

  The pretty woman’s lips twitched upward. Most people were amused by their repartee… before becoming annoyed as all get out.

  “Oh please,” she said. “Come on in. Get comfy. The rooms are ready, but the entertainment won’t start for a bit.” She waved elaborately at her half-prepared self with a laugh. “Obviously.”

  “Perfect!” Bells gave him her signature ha-ha look, brow cocked and all, before disappearing farther into the mansion. Will huffed and gathered up the luggage she neglected to split evenly with him.

  “I can get these,” the woman said, suddenly right next to him, attempting to hoist Will’s lonely duffel over her shoulder. It was so heavy and she was so little, Will coulda sworn she’d topple right over if he didn’t reach out to steady her.

  “It’s a’right. I got it.”

  “Let me take a rolly one, at least.” She gripped Bells’ bag and tugged lightly, falling a step back and laughing at herself when the suitcase didn’t move all that much. “Geez, what the heck’s in here?”

  “Shoes, most likely.” Will laughed. “I can get it—”

  But the older man with the earpiece had already rolled the bag away with ease. The woman reached for the one remaining, boldly batting Will’s hand away when he tried to take it.

  “You’re a paying guest, remember?” she said with a twinkle in her ice gray eyes. Will felt the first genuine smile creep onto his lips since he’d crossed the state line.

  “Well, thanks… uh…” He lifted an eyebrow. He may recognize her, but he had no clue what her name was.

  “Winter.”

  He almost snorted, which woulda been so ungentlemanly his momma would give him a mean paddling. Winter was a season, and not even a good one. And judging by the grandeur of the place, the security man who was watching her every move, and the fact that she seemed so fragile and spoiled, wearing what he assumed was a cashmere robe and designer rollers in her half-done hair, “Winter” mus
t be one of those names rich people gave their kids to be unique and exotic or somethin’.

  It just reminded him again how far from home he really was.

  He let out a long sigh, taking the caboose in their luggage train to the mansion. The place was like none other he’d ever seen. Being raised in the south, the wealthy ‘Bamers had an old-timey charm to their mansions, while the middle class had modest plantations. Will grew up in the lower part of the financial classes, living in a box with a bathroom and stove. He liked it, though, no complaints. Simple worked for him, but for Bells…

  “Will you look at this, Will? D’ya see all these crystals and… Oh! I could just die!” She beamed up at the chandelier, her breathing on the verge of hyperventilation. Will shook his head and hoisted his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. That thing wouldn’t even fit in his pizza shop, let alone his one-bedroom shack.

  This is gonna be a long week, he thought, but he was doing it for Bells. It would be worth it. He hoped.

  “This way,” Winter said, gesturing with her head up a massive staircase. Will couldn’t help the snort that came out.

  “Uh… you got an elevator?”

  Winter blinked, let her eyes swivel to all the luggage they were carrying, and then laughed. “Yes, sorry. My brain is on a bit of a delay today.”

  “That’s a’right.” He smirked, surprised that a person so used to luxury still thought of taking the stairs before an elevator.

  Maybelle of course seemed right at home among all the expensive décor and marble floors. Her heels clacked away, echoing off the walls and throughout the entryway. Will would be surprised if it didn’t bring out more of the staff.

  The man with them pressed a button that blended with the wall so well, Will hadn’t even noticed it. Winter bounced on her heels, like she didn’t know how to stand still. Will swore he heard her humming something as well. Her eyes studied Bells, lingering on her left hand. Will’s brow furrowed; Bells was too busy admiring the place to make conversation, and it was suddenly too hot in all the layers he was wearing.

  The elevator dinged open, and Winter held the door while Will and the security guy maneuvered their luggage in.

  “Bells, I swear…” He laughed as he squeezed bag number four inside, the doors nearly crushing it. She gave him a look that told him to shut right up, and he supposed she had a point. The two main quibbles they’d had during their forever-hour-drive was about her packing and his aversion to cold weather.

  Winter swept her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder—well, the half that was done—and mashed in the button for the fifth floor.

  “No music,” he mused. The man tilted an eyebrow, and Bells nodded, probably only half-paying attention. The elevator had a mirror for a ceiling, and she was haphazardly fixing her red curls. Winter nudged him in the shoulder.

  “We’re frugal around here, can’t you tell? Music just isn’t in our budget.”

  He smirked. At least she had a sense of humor about her millions.

  The doors opened, and voices filled the hallway. Bells scurried out of there, leaving the rest of them with the luggage… of course.

  But Winter and the other man were helpful, each plucking up a suitcase and rolling it into the hallway. “What’s the last name?” Winter asked over her shoulder, leading them past an open sitting area, complete with a giant projector screen and popcorn machine. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here…

  “Monroe,” Maybelle answered.

  “Perfect, you’re right up here.” Winter bounced her way in front of them, making a left, a right, and another left.

  How many rooms did the place have?

  Will could feel his fingers getting numb, and when Winter finally stopped in front of a pair of hand carved wooden doors, a wave of relief fell over him. Bells enthusiastically took the keys and clicked them into the room. She disappeared inside before Will could even get a good look around.

  “Thank you,” he said, holding back a laugh at Winter’s big eyes at his over-excited sister.

  “Yep!” she said, pulling her eyes away from Bells. “Feel free to explore after you’re settled. Opening dinner is at seven. And let me know if you need anything.” She dropped her voice, leaning in and up on her toes to reach his ear. He bent to help her out. “Sorry about the double room. It was the only one left, but if anything opens up, I can get you into one for yourself. Free of charge. If you want…”

  He took a peek inside the suite, the thing big enough to fit not only his pizza shop inside, but the shop next door as well. “I think we’ll be okay,” he said with a chuckle. Did this woman not realize what normal people lived in?

  She nodded and then rolled the suitcase just inside the door. Will waited until they’d left before he shut the door, crossing his arms.

  “Good grief, Bells. How much you spend on this?”

  “A journey for love should have no limit!” he heard from the bathroom. He let the duffel on his shoulder drop to the gray and blue rug under his feet and made his way to the fireplace. The thing came up to his shoulder and was probably about six or seven feet wide. He flipped the switch on, the faux blue flames coming to life.

  The mansion had a fresh linen scent, almost like he’d slipped between a laundered set of bed sheets. He wrinkled his nose, missing the comfortable smell of his pizza shop—pepperoni and mozzarella. His gut dipped with the thought of Penelope, waiting at the counter and not finding his face in the crowd. He never thought he’d be one to get homesick, but then again, he’d never really been away from home.

  Will’s gaze swung around the crowded room, anxiety burrowing into his chest and setting up camp. He was used to crowds, but he wasn’t used to this type of crowd. Pheromones were flying around the room like they were coming out of the vents. Nothing but people flirting and touching and glancing and winking. Seriously, the winking… One man in particular seemed to be using it as the only ace up his sleeve. “Oh, you’re an artist?” wink. “I’ve seen that film four times, now.” wink. “Do you know where the bathrooms are?” wink. Who in the world actually winked that much?

  Will tapped the edge of his glass with his knuckle, wondering if he shoulda put a ring on his finger just so he wouldn’t be targeted. He had his eye on someone back home, after all, and really… how would it work out in the end? These people seemed to be lookin’ for soulmates, not flings. But they lived all over the place. It was like online relationships in reverse—meet first, email second. How did Frostville Mansion get such a good reputation for setting people up?

  He refused to believe it was actually haunted. There had to be something in the water.

  He eyed his drink before stealthily pouring it into a potted plant.

  “What do you think?” Bells asked him, knocking his elbow with hers. Will followed her gaze to a man across the room surrounded by four other women, laughing heartily at what one of them just said.

  “About what?” he said, playing dumb. Bells gave him a look he deserved.

  “Do I have a shot, Will? Or should I settle for… I dunno…” She glanced around for a moment before her eyes landed on someone young enough to need I.D. “That guy.”

  “You don’t have to settle for anyone.”

  “Will…”

  “Serious, Bells. If you’re really here to do this, go all in.”

  “So, you’re tellin’ me in your very brotherly way that I could have any man I want.”

  He tapped his nose a couple times, and Bells squealed and handed him her glass.

  “Okay.” She fixed her curls. “Save me if you see the signal.”

  “What signal—” But she was across the room already.

  Will slumped against the wall, eyes drifting to the clock. His stomach was an empty, gargling mess, and he ran a hand over it, hoping to soothe the rumbling. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait before finding the kitchen himself and raiding the refrigerator.

  Another group of people came through the door to the lounge area. Geez, more? No won
der Winter had said they didn’t have a lot of rooms left.

  His eyes caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair behind a massive wall of a man who’d just walked in. Will straightened, suddenly aware of how glum he probably looked. No wonder no one was approaching him; he hadn’t needed a ring for deterrent, just his sullen attitude. He tried to put on a smile as Winter appeared from hiding, her shortness endearing. He nodded to her, feeling a bit like a fool that he didn’t have much game here. Not that he was trying to flirt, just trying to show some human decency, but the mansion, the city lights out every window, the décor, and company just made him feel like a turtle without its shell.

  Winter waved wildly back, something that made him laugh and feel lighter in the heaviness of the room. She was done up completely—makeup, hair, long, flowing gown. She looked like a darn princess, out of this reality and in one entirely her own.

  He thought she’d come over for some conversation, but she veered right, taking the hand of the burly, massive man next to her. He helped her up on a sort of platform and handed her a glass.

  Clink, clink, clink. All eyes swiveled to Winter, Will’s already trained on her. Guess she was the owner of the place. Or at least high up. Not only did she have the muscle next to her, the security man from earlier was perched at her other side, looking important and scary.

  “Welcome to Frostville Mansion!” she said excitedly to some applause. “I hope you’ve all gotten somewhat acquainted.”

  The winker winked, and a few giggles went through the room. Will tried with all his might not to let sarcasm fly from his mouth.

  “If you’ll please follow me into the next room, we can have some dinner.”

  Will “whooped!” unable to control himself. A few guests laughed, and Winter fist pumped the air and pointed at him in solidarity. It sent a round of warm acceptance through his empty gut.