by Renee Rose
“If she needs anything, just let me know.” I watch an employee sweep up some broken glass. I stop for a moment, concerned that it had been a machine error, but as soon as the glass is cleaned up, the employee switches the machine back on and it is working perfectly fine. “Who is that?” I ask quietly.
Grant follows my gaze. “One of the new employees, Nick. He’s inexperienced, but he’s learning fast. I’ve got Bill mentoring him. We’ll have him up to speed by Friday.”
I nod and we continue on, checking the malt kilns, the wash vats, and the copper stills. Each section of the distillery has a ‘lead’—a person in charge of that section—and I take the time to check in with each of them. We meet up with the Master Distiller, making sure everything is performing exactly as it should. From there, we head into the warehouse to ensure that the casks are being handled correctly. Next, we go over to the lager side of the distillery, which is smaller than the whisky side, but still needs the same attention. Grant oversees the entire distillery for me with Mike as his assistant manager. They usually work opposite shifts—that way, they each get some time off.
As we complete our rounds of the lager area, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket for the eighth time. I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail again. It has to be Siannon. I finish the inspection and return to my office. I have a few business calls to make: some new clients who need attention, and then there is the order for Club Toxic’s event. I should have asked Grant if we have the stock, as it is the whisky I’m concerned about. It takes years for it to be the proper flavor and color. The whisky Club Toxic is buying from me is the oldest I carry. Smokey Nectar, a fifteen-year-old Scottish whisky that I sell only to select vampire clubs like Club Toxic. I don’t even advertise it as I do the Sweet Nectar and Dark Brews. No, it is sold simply by word of mouth.
Realizing I should have checked, I pick up the phone to talk to Myra.
“Yes, Mr. Blake?”
“Myra, can you get Grant for me? I need him to check something for me.”
“Of course, Mr. Blake, one moment.”
I stay on the line, leaning back in my chair as I wait. Finally, after two minutes, Myra returns to the line.
“I’ll patch him through now, Mr. Blake.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, sir?” Grant asks.
“Grant, sorry, I should have checked when we were in the warehouse, but it didn’t occur to me. We’re supplying Club Toxic for their Halloween party; do we have the twenty-five casks of Smokey Nectar for them?” If we don’t, I am screwed and I’ll have to call the king, Lucius and renegotiate.
“I believe we do, but let me go and check on that, sir. If we do, it will be the end of the stock until December, I think, but it’s not one we fill very often, so we should be all right.”
“Very well. If you’ll check, and get back to me as soon as possible?”
“Of course, sir, give me thirty minutes.”
I hang up the landline phone right as my phone buzzes again. “Damn it.” Siannon is not going to give up. I glance at my closed door and decide to just answer it.
“What do you want?” I growl into the phone.
“My love, now is that any way to greet me?” Siannon asks, her voice fluttering and feminine as she attempts to be sweet.
“I’m not your love anymore. And I won’t ask again, Siannon, tell me why you called, or I’m hanging up.”
“But darling, I merely called to talk to you about the gala at Club Toxic for All Hallow’s Eve. I thought perhaps we could wear compatible costumes, perhaps as dear Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI?”
“Get this through your maniacal brain, Siannon: I am not ever coming back to you! So no, I will not be wearing a compatible costume to you! I’ve had enough. I will not sit by and watch you murder any more innocent humans!” I hiss into the phone, so I won’t be overheard by my secretary.
“But sweetie, what did you need that trash for when you’ve got me? I was merely taking out garbage that didn’t deserve your attention—”
“They were mine! You had no right, Siannon, and might I remind you that King Lucius has given you your last warning! Harm one more human, and he will execute you swiftly!” My jaw ticks as I clench my teeth. “I will not be made a party to your madness.”
“Humans are expendable, my dear, like cows, and they breed just as fast. One is basically like another, so I don’t see why you’re so upset. And Lucius won’t make good on that threat—that’s all it is, a threat to keep me in line. He’ll reprimand me, but he won’t off me.” She laughs.
“I really do not think you ought to press your luck on that point. He did seem to be rather adamant that Chantal would be your last kill.”
“Well, to be fair, I wouldn’t have to kill them if you would recall that you belong to me, now, would I?”
I drag a hand through my hair in frustration. “For the last time, Siannon, I do not belong to you. I am not your property. You do not have a say in who I take as a partner or as a submissive! So back the fuck off and stop fucking calling me!” I hit end on the call.
I drop into my seat, setting the phone on the desk. Siannon killing my submissives is why I haven’t pursued Clarabelle, but there is something about her that draws me in. Her sweetness, her softness, calls to me. It is why I so often call upon her to drive me to places I could easily drive myself. I have a vehicle of my own—a rather nice one, in fact—but being near Clarabelle soothes something in me, even if I can’t have her.
My desk phone rings and, with a sigh, I pick it up. “Blake.”
“We’ll have three casks left after filling Club Toxic’s order, sir.”
“Thank you, Grant. We’ll need to deliver on the thirtieth.”
“We’ll get it taken care of” Grant hangs up.
With another sigh, I send Clarabelle a text, letting her know I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes, and then wait for her reply.
I’m in the parking lot, sir. I’ll pull up to the entrance now and await you. ~ Clarabelle
She always remembers to call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Blake’; one of these days, I want to hear her screaming my given name as I make her come again and again. Exhaling, I wish there was a way I could make that happen without Siannon getting in the way. Part of me hopes that Clarabelle will attend the ball, because maybe then I can have her just for a night—since I doubt I’ll get to have her for more than that without Siannon attacking and killing her. The thought of Clarabelle’s life being snuffed out by Siannon is enough to put me in a foul mood, but I push those horrible thoughts away as I head down to meet Clarabelle at the car.
Chapter 3
When I find matching tulle and satin fabrics that I can use to create the Cinderella dress I have in mind, I am thrilled. I’ve always been pretty good at sewing, so when I got home from driving Mr. Blake back to his house, I went online and found the perfect pattern for the Venetian-style gown I want to create.
I woke up early this morning to get to the craft store to hunt for the material. Now I am heading home to get started on it. I already know my measurements from the last time I sewed a dress for myself, and I have a dress dummy in my size, so it will be easy to create the fitted bodice with the sweetheart neckline I want. It will have tulle, off-the-shoulder sleeves that trim the bodice, and I invested in some glitter to make the tulle neckline and skirt sparkle.
I work on it every day up until Halloween. I’m even making a matching cape out of the satin, as well. While I ate lunch one afternoon a few days ago, I ordered a pair of strappy blue sandals to go with the dress. They arrived yesterday. The last thing I make is the mask. I found a pattern of silk blue, royal and purple butterflies. I trim each eye hole and butterfly with tiny little sparkling gems. Then I use some little butterfly beads to make dangles from the mask. It is the most intricate work I’ve ever done on a mask before. I add an elastic sparkly silver strap to it, so it won’t slip from my face.
Halloween afternoon, I go to the spa, treating myself to a mas
sage, a mani-pedi, and a complete hairstyling. It’s expensive, but I have the money to splurge, and it isn’t as if this is an everyday occurrence. No, this is my one chance to spend an evening in Aaron’s elegant world, and I am going to do everything in my power to make it as spectacular an evening as I can.
The hairstylist has added blonde highlights to my hair, and then creates a loose French braid to the side that moves toward the back of my head. The rest of my hair has been meticulously curled, and she adds tiny faux diamonds to the braid and waves. Last, she pins three sparkling blue satin butterfly pins along the braid. The stylist has done an outstanding job.
I am super careful to make sure I don’t mess up my hair as I head home to finish getting ready. I take a bath, and then make up my face—just a light powder, mascara, and soft pink lipstick—and then dress. I’ve sewn the underskirt into the dress, so it is a full ballgown that stands out and swirls from the waist down. The bodice fits me tightly and zips up the back, but the zipper is hidden by the fabric, so it won’t show. I slip my feet into the strappy sparkling blue sandals and stand in front of my mirror as I add the mask. I lift the braid and slide the strap under it so that only a tiny bit of the silvery strap shows.
I smile into the mirror. I look exactly how I imagined I would look. I just hope Aaron will like it. With my heart racing at what I am about to do, I tie my cape under my chin, pick up the shiny silver handbag that only holds my phone, keys, and ID, and go out to my BMW. It is already getting late, and I can see families out trick or treating. I left a bowl full of candy on my porch for the little munchkins, so they won’t be disappointed.
Getting into the car is a little harder than I thought it would be, as my skirt is extremely full, but I manage to do it and not crush the skirt in the door. Carefully, I drive toward Club Toxic. I am really nervous. This is the most daring thing I’ve ever done in my life. It takes me fifteen minutes to get up the courage to get out of the car and go up to the waiting line of partiers. Some don’t look as though they bothered with costumes, and some are wearing costumes that don’t look at all Venetian.
“Look, you aren’t getting in, it’s a Venetian costume ball, not a spooks and goblins ball,” the guy on the door says to the people at the front of the line.
“But that’s not fair! We’ve waited in line and everything—”
“Do I need to escort you off the premises?” he asks.
“Fuck you,” the guy replies as he and the girl he is with head back to the parking lot. “Come on, we’ll go to the V. I bet their party is slammin’!”
I bite my lip. Dang, I hope my costume is elaborate enough to get me in. I worked so hard on it. A few more people are allowed in, and then it’s my turn. I smile at the wall of muscle in front of me. My eyes drift upward to his face. He is dressed in a very elaborate suit of royal blue, and looks like one of the footmen from the Prince’s castle, with a white, powdered wig and everything. “Hello,” I say softly.
“Good evening, princess, you may go right in.” He bows elegantly and then opens the door for me.
“Thank you,” I reply with a slight giggle. Taking a deep breath, I enter the club. I move toward the coat check area and leave my cloak and purse with them, along with my name. I won’t need it while I am here.
My eyes scan the people dressed in elegant attire. Dancing in the center of the floor is a man wearing a crown, dressed as a most elegant king, and his partner is an exquisite woman bedecked in jewels and a tiara. This is the most glamourous party I’ve ever been to, and I feel like I don’t belong. Just as I am about to flee, my eyes land on Aaron. He looks resplendent in a red brocade vest, black jacket, a black silk cravat, black pants, and a mask that matches the jacket, which covers one eye, his nose and cheek. The style of mask reminds me of Phantom of the Opera.
Touching my mask, I feel my confidence grow a bit. Nobody here knows me, I can be someone other than myself. I have always been shy and quiet, I’ve never before dared to do what I am about to do. Willing myself to be graceful, I move across the room to him.
He is standing at the bar, ordering a drink. I move up next to him and smile.
“Well, good evening, Cinderella,” he comments.
“Good evening.” I widen my smile, and his blue eyes twinkle at me.
“What might I get the lady?” the bartender asks.
Aaron smiles. “I think the only thing Cinderella should have is champagne,” he replies to the bartender.
“Oh, but I—” I start, my smile slipping. I don’t want to drink anything alcoholic, seeing as I have to drive home.
“Coming right up.”
“One drink, Cinderella, and I think you will be fine.” Aaron picks up my hand and kisses my fingers. “You would not wish me to drink alone, would you?”
I smile, and feel my cheeks heat. “No, that would not be at all polite.”
The bartender returns with a flute of champagne, which Aaron hands to me. “For you, my dear.”
I take the crystal flute and sip the drink. The fizzy bubbles tickle my nose. “Might I ask if you are Erik? The Angel of Music?” I inquire, peering up at him.
“Indeed; very well done,” he agrees. “Would you care to dance?”
I nod, take another, bigger sip of the champagne, and then set it on the bar next to his whisky glass. “I would like that very much indeed.”
Aaron takes my hand and leads me to the dancefloor. The club has a live band, but instead of modern tunes, they are playing all classical music to go along with the theme of the night.
Aaron takes me in his arms and begins to waltz me gently around the floor. I do my best to keep up. I’ve never danced a waltz before, but I’ve seen it performed, and find myself enjoying the movements.
“You are very good,” I comment. “I feel like a real princess.” I know my cheeks must be as pink as my lipstick by now. My heart races as we twirl. I love the feeling of his hand pressed to my back as he holds me firmly.
“You are a princess, Clarabelle,” he whispers, a hint of a smile on his lips.
I gasp. He knows it’s me! “Sir… I mean…” I don’t know what to say.
He chuckles. “Did you really think I would not recognize you, my sweet Clarabelle? I had hoped you would come. It was why I left the invitation in the car.” He smiles down at me, twirling and then dipping me.
“You were?” I squeak in surprise. Heat floods me at the look in his eyes.
“I was.” He twirls me again. “Would you be mine for tonight?” he asks softly, gazing into my eyes.
My heart explodes at the question. The entire night has been a dream come true, and to have him ask me to spend the evening with him… well, I am over the moon. I am so thrilled that I can’t make my voice work, so I nod, my gaze never leaving his.
His grin widens. “Then come. I will organize a private room, where we can be together.”
His words overwhelm me, and I think I might faint at the thought of getting my heart’s desire. I am hypnotized by him. I would do anything he asked, as long as I get to be with him for one more minute, one more hour… although I know it will only be for tonight. Then it is back to the real world, back to shy, quiet Belle. But for tonight, I am Cinderella, and I will make the most of it!
Chapter 4
I watched her enter the club. Her beauty far surpasses that of anyone else here, but I didn’t want to scare her, so I’d remained in place. I waited for an opportunity to arise for me to bump into her. To my surprise, Clarabelle came to me. She looks breathtakingly beautiful.
I’d ordered her a champagne, seeing her nerves as she stood next to me. I’d hoped it would relax her a bit, but then realized, she must have driven herself here, and wouldn’t want to drink very much. My Clarabelle is a very responsible driver.
Dancing with her only serves to show me exactly how compatible we could be together. She follows my every move upon the floor to perfection, as if she’s been dancing the waltz since its inception. I want more than anything to make h
er mine for real instead of just in my dreams. I worry, though, about Siannon harming her if I do. But I can’t stop myself from asking her, “Would you be mine for tonight?”
It is all I feel I can offer her.
One night of passion.
One magical night together.
And then I’ll have to let her go.
I can’t keep her.
If Siannon catches sight of us together, figures out that I have feelings for Clarabelle, she will kill her. So, I will only have Clarabelle for one night, and then pray that Siannon never notices her.
Her nod of agreement sends a thrill to my heart.
“Then come. I will organize a private room, where we can be together.”
I lead her from the floor and toward the staircase that will take us down to the BDSM section of the club. Her eyes are wide, taking in the costumed performers and various partiers down here. I find Theophilus and give him a nod as we approach him.
“Good evening, Theophilus. I wondered if there was a private room available?”
“Aaron, good to see you. I see you’ve found yourself a scrumptious looking Cinderella. I’m sure I can find you some accommodations. Come.”
We follow Theo down the hallway, past several doors. He unlocks one, and hands me the key. “Thank you,” I murmur and lead Clarabelle in.
“Anytime,” Theo comments as he turns to go back the way we came.
Clarabelle looks around. The room has apparently been prepped beforehand, as there is a fully stocked bar, and champagne chilling in a silver bucket on a stand. I can see how nervous she is by the look in her eyes.
I move to her, my hand slipping beneath her hair to wrap around the back of her neck. I draw her closer to me and gaze deep into her eyes. “You have nothing to be nervous about, my sweet,” I murmur, smiling at her gently.
“I have nothing to be nervous about,” she repeats as if in a trance.
I lean down and capture her lips, softly at first, my tongue tracing the sweet little cupid’s bow, and then her lips part, and I dip into the velvety softness and taste her. She is exquisite. Her hands slide up my chest to wrap around my neck, and she clings to me. She is the most innocent and sweet submissive I’ve ever encountered, and I can’t get enough of her.
