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Cinderella's Daddies 23
Around four a.m., I tried to go back to my own apartment, but my brother was sleeping outside of it, leaning against the door. I just couldn’t deal, and when I returned to Mrs. Dali’s apartment, she was kind enough to offer me her couch.But I don’t want to take advantage of her already generous hospitality, so it’s time to get going.I turn around to look at where we left the dress last night, and gasp in surprise. “You’ve done more with it.”Her brown eyes crinkle at the corners and she gives me a smug smile. “Yes, I always wake up early, so I slept for a couple of hours and then I was awake at six. I haven’t been able to leave the gown alone.”“It looks incredible,” I say.The plunging neckline is far more risqué than anything I would ever choose to wear. It’ll land halfway between my breasts and my belly button. The wide band going across the waist is no longer covered in a mishmash of beads, lace, and fake flowers; it’s now a single fabric panel with two silk ribbons sewn at the
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“There’s no rush to get up,” he says.“You can’t be comfortable,” I say. “I am so sorry to have put you in this position—”“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault you got hurt. I’m just glad I happened to be here tonight.”I shake my head. This is a nightmare. He must hate me.Carefully, slowly, I risk a glance at my finger. It’s covered in a bandage, all wrapped up. Not a drop of blood in sight. There aren’t even any bloody paper towels or anything.“Everything’s in the waste basket,” he says, likely noticing the way I’m looking all around. “I’ll take it out later, so you don’t have to see it.”“That’s really kind of you,” I say, “but it’s my job to do these things. I’ll be fine, I’m sure.”His body moves as he shakes his head, I think. I’m afraid to turn around and look at him. “Allow me to help you in this way.”The way he says it, all rough and stern, has me nodding automatically. “Okay, yeah, sure. Thank you.”“You’re welcome.”I’m determined to stand up. He hurri
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“How did you pull this off?” I ask, hurrying forward to run a finger tentatively along the edge of the clutch. It’s a simple design, a drawstring bag, but it somehow still looks elegant.“Waste not, want not. I used fabric from those flowing pieces we lopped off of the back of the dress,” she says. “From there, it was a simple matter of finding the perfect ribbon for the string, which I had in abundance in one of my sewing kits. And, well, your shoes were a little more difficult. I had to ask around. I checked your size when you slept here on Thursday night. Only one of my friends is your exact size, and we weren’t sure she would have a pair that could work, but we really got lucky.”“You did all of this…for me,” I whisper. “Thank you.”“Oh, you do so much for me, dear, I just wanted to do something in return. Now, it’s time to get ready. Fuss later, fuss later. You don’t want to be late to the gala!”She helps me with my hair and make-up, but we keep it simple because neither of us h
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As soon as I’m in front of them, he says, “Hey, you three. This is Kingston Tyler, the man behind this whole operation. Kingston, this is Jaxon Marsel, Ryder Callihan, and Olivia Santiago. Jaxon and Ryder own Ironwood Security.”We shake hands. The three of them are all attractive. Jaxon and Ryder look to be in their early thirties, and Olivia in her twenties. From the way the two men stand with her, their postures alert and protective, I get the impression that they care deeply about her. An engagement ring shines on her fourth finger, and I wonder which of them she’s engaged to.Of course, the three could be in a relationship together.We chat for a few minutes about their business. The men are interested in having my company crunch some numbers for them, and the woman wants to know who the caterer is for this event, and whether I might be interested in attending a charity event she’s putting on in the fall.This is exactly the kind of networking the gala is good for, although tonig
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Clearing my throat, I tap on Joel’s shoulder. “Care to introduce me to your friend?”“What?” He spins around and his eyes go wide in surprise. He even has the nerve to look me up and down, undress me with his eyes while another woman’s lipstick stains his mouth. “Ella, hey. Wait. Ella?”“Yes, dumbass,” I say.He gapes at me for a few more seconds. “Wow, you look—”“Who’s this?” the woman asks. She doesn’t use a mean tone of voice; she just sounds curious. She probably has no clue that Joel is already seeing someone. Or that he was seeing someone.“I’m his girlfriend,” I say.She winces. “I’m so sorry—I had no idea. He gave me the impression he was unattached.” To Joel, she says, “See ya, asshole.”As she walks away, Joel scowls at me. “What the fuck, Ella?”“You invited me to the gala,” I say. “Or don’t you remember?”“Oh, right. I didn’t think you were coming.”“We talked about it,” I said. “Then you left the ticket on my cart.”“I didn’t leave you a ticket,” he says, looking puzzled
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There’s no real logic to my punishment, but that doesn’t seem to faze her. She simply puts her hand in mine, winks, and says, “Whatever you say, Mr. Tyler.”I think this beautiful creature was made for me.“You should know,” I say, “that your dress is beautiful, and you look ravishing in it. You do fit in with the people here.”Her shrug is one that tells me she doesn’t agree, but doesn’t want to argue with me.I can work on that, over time.Once I lead her from the service hallway and into the ballroom, she falters.“I don’t even know how to dance a proper dance,” she says.“We can just sway,” I say, keeping my hand on her lower back, staking my claim. “No special steps necessary. And if you want, I can teach you other dances, too.”“Maybe not tonight,” she whispers.“Another night, then,” I say.Those beautiful brown eyes of hers meet mine and she smiles softly, like she doesn’t believe me.She has no fucking idea. Now that I’ve got her in my arms, the only thing getting her out of
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From the way she’s carefully looking away, but holding tightly to my hand, I’m going to guess she does know she wants to try it, but she’s afraid to say so.It’s my goal to get her to admit she wants it.Enthusiastic consent, Rule Number One.“I want to touch you,” I say.“Do you always get everything you want?” she asks, attitude in her voice.Oh, fuck yes. Brattiness. I love it. I can see that her attitude is meant as a defense mechanism. She’s on uneven ground, and this whole proposition, this entire evening, is probably disconcerting to her.“I don’t always get what I want, but I think I will tonight,” I say. “Let me touch you, princess.”“You are touching me.”I look down to where our hands join, then I slowly slide my fingers along her arm, past her elbow, and up to her shoulder. From there, I start back down, tucking my fingertip into the front of her dress.“Tell me if this is okay with you,” I whisper.She doesn’t say anything. I stop moving my hand.“Hey,” I say. “Waiting on
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There’s a sinful tilt to her lips, and then she laughs. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”“You can change your mind at any time,” I say, although I’m praying to every god who may or may not exist that she doesn’t change her mind.“Stop trying to talk me out of it,” she says.My driver takes us through the city and I raise the tinted privacy screen between him and us.Ella’s pouting, like she’s thinking too hard about something.“Can I help you with that?” I ask.“With what?”“With whatever arguments you’re going over and over in your head.”She gives a little huff of humor. “How do you know?”“Everything you’re feeling and thinking seems to be right there on your face. It’s how I knew you were into Kingston…you’re as into him as he is into you.”Pursing her lips, she says, “I’m the shittiest poker player.”“I believe that,” I say. “What I really want to know, though, is if you’re just as into me.”“You have to know you’re hotter than most cover models,” she says, blushing and lookin
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