Page 21 of No Knight (My Kind of Hero #3)

“Course we are. Captain Prince Charming and First Mate Belle.”

Clodagh’s expression turns immediately pensive.

“You okay?” I ask, slowing my pace.

“Just thinking.”

“Anything I can help you with?” I know Letty’s doing tough with the divorce, but with Clodagh, it’s harder to tell how she’s feeling. She seems to have adapted well to her new school and country, but she barely mentions her dad. Not that he’d be winning any prizes in the father stakes.

“I’m just thinking maybe next time you can be Gaston.”

“Gaston?” I say instead of Next time? They’ve been staying with me up until recently, but this is the first outing alone for me and Clo. Frankly, the responsibility is terrifying.

“You look like Gaston,” she says, nodding her little blond head. “Not handsomest prince.”

“Oh, really?” Cheeky little shite.

“But you got the same color hair as Gaston. And a butt chin like him.”

I give a hearty chuckle. “So what I’m hearing is this Gaston fella is good looking.” Out of the mouths of babes.

“And he’s good at spitting. Plus, he’s hairy, same as you.”

“He sounds ... grand.” We reach the line of theatergoers queuing for general admission.

If I thought I’d be here, I might’ve made some other arrangements.

A box or something, I think, eyeing the group of kids a little way in front of us.

I don’t know kids. I also don’t want to know kids. Or sit in among them.

“He isn’t grand, Uncle Matty. He’s a handsome, empty-headed jerk.

He doesn’t love Belle. He just thinks she’s the prettiest girl in town, and because he has a very high ’pinion of himself, he thinks she should be married to him.

He just wants to own her. That’s what Mommy says. But Beast, he has a good heart.”

There is so much to digest in her little speech.

“Well, that’s what you want, isn’t it? Someone with a good heart.” Though I think it might be a bit early to be talking about men and love. Clodagh is still only five years old.

“You’re not like Gaston, Uncle Matty. You say things that make Mommy laugh when Daddy says things that make her cry.”

“Mommy cries?” I thought she was done with all that.

“Only when she thinks I can’t hear her.”

My heart gives a little twist. I’d finish that shitebag off, physically and financially, if I didn’t think that would give him something else to bleat about. Some other thing to blame her for. Waste of fucking oxygen that he is.

“You have a heart like the Beast.”

“Well, that’s ...” Enough to bring a lump to my throat. “Very lovely to hear. But, you know, Clo, when you get to be a big girl, and you date?”

“I gotta be at least thirty-five before I do that. Mommy says so.”

“Good. I like that plan.”

“Aunt Lola says Mommy should’ve taken her own advice.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Feckin’ Lola. “Anyway, what I was trying to say is that it’s not up to you to find the prince within the beast.”

“What do you mean? Inside like he ate him?” She looks horrified.

“No, nothing like that.” Jesus. How to put this? “Well, the Beast, on the outside, is all rough and tough and growly.”

“But he has a good heart.”

“Yeah, I know. But you shouldn’t have to dig for it. He should be able to show you it, shouldn’t he?”

“Like, under his fur?”

“No, not quite like that—”

“Hey, Matt!”

I glance up to find Mila standing in the line ahead of us. The Lord works in mysterious ways, his miracles to feckin’ perform! Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to give dating advice to a five-year-old, again?

“Excuse me,” Mila murmurs, smiling in apology as she makes her way back along the line toward us.

“Hi!” I think I might be smiling too much or too weirdly, judging by Mila’s expression as I press a kiss to her cheek.

I’d be happy to see her any time, but I’m feckin’ ecstatic not to have to dig myself out of that.

“How are you?” And bless you for saving this poor, wretched fool. I’m hardly fit to give dating advice.

“I’m good, and kind of surprised to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be with Fin and Oliver?”

“I’m meeting them later.” So I’m a soft touch because, yes, I had plans of my own, but after Seb’s selfishness, what could I do but step in?

Letty has had so little time to herself since she came back.

I mean, I offered to get her help—a nanny or an au pair—but she says it’s too much.

It’s like she thinks she can negate her ex’s lack of parenting by overcaring or something.

“And who have we here?” Mila asks, hunkering down in front of my niece.

“This is Clodagh, my niece. Clo, this is Mila, my friend.” She’s also Fin’s wife. She might even be the making of him.

“Hi,” Clo answers shyly, holding her rose to her chin.

“Hello, Clodagh. I love your dress.”

“I’m Belle, and Uncle Matty is Prince Charmin,” she says, glancing up at me.

“That’s me. Prince of the toilet paper. Are you here to see Beauty and the Beast ?” Stupid question. Or maybe not, as her expression flickers.

“You mean Aladdin ?”

“I thought we were here to see Beauty and the —” I halt and glance at the Perspex-covered ad poster on the theater wall. “ Aladdin . Right.” I glance down to my date . “You think your mother might’ve mentioned it.”

“But you got the tickets,” Clodagh says, tapping me with the rose.

Aubrey, my personal assistant, did. But there’s no need to let her take the praise. The line begins to move up ahead, so we do too. “So Aladdin ,” I say, sending Mila an apologetic look.

“Yep, Aladdin . I’m here with a youth group.”

Although still very busy with her wedding-planning business, Mila does a lot for charity, particularly with underprivileged kids.

By extension, Maven Inc. does a lot for charity too.

It’s fair to say that since the pair announced their surprise marriage, Fin thinks a lot less about himself.

These days, he’s often to be found squeezing money out of friends and clients in the name of his wife’s causes.

“I suppose I should be grateful I’m not wearing harem pants, a vest, and a fez.” I’m pretty sure my nipples would snap off in this weather.

“I was just about to mention how fetching you look.”

“Thanks.” I narrow my eyes playfully. “No need to mention it. Like, ever.”

“No need to mention it ... to anyone in particular?”

“I see you’re picking up what I’m putting down. Don’t tell your bollix of a husband, and you and me will be grand.”

“I’m sorry, Matt. Fin and me, we don’t keep secrets,” she says with a grin.

I harrumph. Like a grumpy old bastard. “What’s it gonna cost?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she says, trying not to let her grin get any wider. But I know her game.

“I’ll give you fifty grand,” I mutter, gesturing ahead to her youth group. One of them waves, and I realize it’s Ronny, Mila’s assistant. “Hey, Ron,” I call out. “Got any secrets about your boss you’d like to trade?”

“Nah, fam!” she calls back with a stuttering laugh. “Me and Meels are tight. We go way back.”

“Miss Mila.” Clodagh tugs on Mila’s hand. “Is that lady your family?” I guess it’s Ronny’s vernacular that prompts Clo’s question.

“It’s just Mila, love,” she says, dropping down to my niece’s level again. “Ronny is my family. Some family you’re born to. Others you choose.”

“So you chose her?”

“I did.”

“Because she’s ’portant to you?”

“Exactly.”

Clodagh’s head tilts my way. “Can you unchoose family, Uncle Matty?”

“You’re stuck with me.”

“I was just asking,” she mutters.

“Back to my outfit,” I say. “That and the price of your silence.”

“It’s really that important to you?”

I love how Mila doesn’t bat an eyelash at both the bribe and the amount. I suppose it means she no longer feels out of place or uncomfortable. I mean, I get it. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth either. Not like the other Maven two.

“You know if either of those eejits gets wind of this,” I say, tugging on my sash, “I’ll have to leave the country.”

“I think it’s adorable what you’re doing.” She gives a sassy one-shouldered shrug. “How you look.”

“That’s because you’re not a piss-taking arsehole.” My eyes fall closed. Fuck, I silently intone. I glance down and, with a sigh, say, “Sorry, Clo.”

“Uncle Matty,” she says, her own sigh filled with disappointment. “You’re not ’posed to curse where my ears are, remember?”

“Maybe I should just take your ears off.” As I reach for those tiny things, she gives a delighted squeal, slapping her hands over them.

“Not my ears!”

“I’ll get them later. It’ll be easier with scissors.”

The poor kid a few places ahead in the line glances back. Horrified, he huddles closer to his designated adult.

We eventually reach the front of the line and have our own tickets checked, and then we’re in. It turns out we’re all seated together—no doubt Aubrey booked Mila’s tickets too. But by tacit agreement, we head to one of the bars first. A plan the kids agree on when I offer to buy them all ice cream.

“Chocolate for you, Clo?”

My niece nods with relish.

“Can I get you and Ronny a glass of wine or champagne? And the kids? How many of them are there?”

“Sixteen. And while I’d say more than a couple of those kids would be thrilled at the offer, let’s not get you arrested today. Besides, I think they’re more the cider-in-the-park furtive kinds of drinkers.”

“Got it.” I shoot her a quick salute. “Wine only for those of age. Ice cream and sodas for everyone else.”

“Thanks, but I’m good. Ronny will probably have a Coke. She’s on duty right now.”

“Makes sense.” You can drink around your own kids, but you probably shouldn’t be throwing them back when you’re in charge of someone else’s.

“Can I have a thoda, Uncle Matty?”

“A ...” Soda! “Sure?” I glance Mila’s way. “Five-year-olds are okay with fizzy stuff, right?”

Mila holds up a hand. “I’m unqualified to offer advice.”

“Ah, shit, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Fuck. Again! I glance down at Clo, who sends me a long-suffering look.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Mommy. This time. ”

I suck at this whole kid thing.