The Glass Slipper: A Cinderella Novel

by K. Webster

  THE GLASS SLIPPER

  K Webster

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  About Midnight Dynasty

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  Winston

  Since my birthday party.

  That’s how long my useless maid, my filthy toy, my Cinderelliott has been keeping this secret from me. Not just any secret, but conversations behind my back with Leo motherfucking Morelli about God only knows what.

  I’m disgusted. Furious. And a whole other array of emotions I have no business feeling.

  Another tear rolls down Ash’s pink cheek, chasing after the one before it.

  One. Two. Three. So many tears, each one a reminder of why I don’t do this. Why I keep my heart icy and impenetrable. Because, no matter how good something seems with the perfect woman, it can all come crumbling down with just a few salty teardrops.

  Betrayal isn’t always a waterfall of fucked up like it was with Meredith. Sometimes it’s the drip, drip, drip of I should have fucking known better.

  I did.

  I knew this was a potential outcome.

  Not whatever the hell is happening right now between Ash and Morelli.

  But the secrets. The lies. The shady bullshit.

  It happened with Meredith. I vowed it’d never happen again, and yet here we are. Nate and Mother practically force-fed me the warnings, but I’d been so distracted with playing games with Ash I didn’t see her playing a game of her own.

  More tears.

  My maid is pretty when she cries. Too fucking pretty. It’s almost distracting enough to take my attention away from the reason why she’s crying. Not because we’ve made a deal and I’m humiliating her. Not because I’m delivering a little pain with pleasure. Not the usual reasons.

  No.

  She’s crying because she’s been hiding something from me and essentially lying to my face. The fact her lies revolve around a Morelli is what makes it unforgivable. She knows she’s fucked up.

  Royally.

  “Win,” she starts, but I halt her with a lift of my two fingers off the table.

  “Shh,” I murmur. “Let me look at you like this a little while longer.”

  Broken. Devastated. Caught red-handed. The humiliation and regret shining in her eyes is something she managed all by herself this time. I didn’t do this. I didn’t pay her for this. This was all her.

  Her phone continues to buzz, but she ignores it to plead with me using just her leaking, sad hazel eyes and pouty lips. The seconds tick by. Neither of us look away.

  “Are…Are you going to leave me here with him?”

  Because I’m the monster here. That question hurts a lot more than I care to admit. Another reminder of why I don’t let people in. I don’t like to hurt. Not even a little bit. Cold, hard walls of I don’t give a fuck are what has gotten me through life thus far. It’ll have to get me through it this time.

  “That depends.” A cruel laugh barks out of me when she flinches at my words. “Do you want me to?”

  The devastation on her face transforms into irritation making the green shards in her hazel eyes nearly glow. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “Too late for that, Miss Elliott. I was born that way.”

  She actually rolls her eyes and for a split second it’s just me and Ash. My sassy Cinderelliott. The girl I’ve grown obsessed with. I’m disappointed at myself. So easily I allowed myself to be charmed by a fucking teenager.

  My frigid demeanor has the sassiness leeching from her and she squirms in her seat. Her tits bounce slightly, so goddamn delectable in her dress, but I refuse to acknowledge them and keep my hard stare on her face.

  “He told me not to tell you,” she whispers, shame creeping over her cheeks in a crimson flood. “I was scared and…”

  My brow lifts as I regard her with a bored expression. “Please continue,” I urge in a flat tone. “Please tell me why you thought it was better to listen to that rat than talk to me. Me—the same man who rescued you from your disgusting stepbrothers and has more money than God. The same man who could stomp on the entire Morelli empire if provoked. I’m all ears.”

  I sound pathetic.

  Sad.

  Upset.

  I’m not.

  Liar.

  “I…” She swallows hard and closes her eyes. “The pictures of us. The videos. The texts. He has it all. I didn’t want to help him but he said if I didn’t or if I told you, he’d…”

  “He’d what?” I ask coolly. “Send them to the paparazzi? Embarrass me by showing my friends? Tell my mommy?”

  And what the hell does “help him” even mean?

  My blood boils at the thought of Morelli using my toy against me.

  “Win—” Her chin wobbles.

  I motion at her with a flick of my wrist. “For fuck’s sake, pull yourself together.”

  Fire flashes in her expression. Good. She’ll do better being a bitch than playing a sniveling victim.

  “Listen, little girl,” I say, leaning toward her so she can hear me well. “I came here because there’s something I needed to do. This ‘thing’ with you and Morelli is merely an unexpected sideshow for my entertainment tonight.”

  Her brows furl together, a frown marring her teary face. “Win—”

  “I’m not done talking,” I clip out, “and you’re not done listening. You can have your sobfest when you’re alone. Not while you’re out with me. Whatever it is Leo thinks he’s going to do, let him. I don’t give a fuck about his threats.”

  She purses her lips together as if fighting not to argue. Pity. I prefer it when the kitty pulls out her claws and tries to take a swipe at me. This meek, broken woeful act doesn’t suit her.

  “This is how this is going to go down,” I explain, sweeping my gaze across the crowded restaurant. “You’re going to watch my show I had planned, play the part of willing accomplice, and walk out the door as if you don’t give two flying fucks about Morelli.”

  “Okay.” Suspicion laces the muttered word.

  “You’ll get into the car with me and we’ll leave.”

  “Then what?”

  Hope glitters in her eyes. We can’t have that now, can we?

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Miss Elliott.”

  Before she can respond, I wave over the waiter. “Please let Mr. Stevens know I’m ready to finalize our deal.”

  The waiter hurries off to pass on the message to the restaurant owner. I ignore Ash’s imploring gaze as I wait. Glancing over at the Morelli table, I notice how Leo is tense while his older brother, Lucian, is relaxed, ready to enjoy a juicy filet at one of the best steakhouses in the city.

  While I wait for Mr. Stevens, I text Deborah with a task that requires immediate attention. It’ll earn her the new Lexus she’s been hinting at. My employees do love a good bonus. Then, I text my doorman because teamw
ork makes the dream work.

  Mr. Stevens emerges from the back, a nervous smile on his face as he approaches our table. I rise to my feet, offering my hand.

  “Lovely doing business with you.” I shake his hand. “Drop by Anthony’s office in the morning. He’ll have all the paperwork drawn up for you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Constantine. This is incredibly generous of you.” He chuckles, his laughter dying when he glances over at the Morellis. “Though a little vicious if you ask me.”

  “I think I paid enough not to have to ask you.”

  He withers under the warning of my glare and gives me a quick nod. “You’re very right, sir. Good evening.”

  Then, just as I ordered, like it was an item on a very expensive menu, the owner and his staff begin filing out the front door in a procession of apron-clad soldiers fighting in a battle that’s already been won by yours truly.

  “Win,” Ash croaks out.

  I don’t answer her because my stare is on the Morelli table. It takes them all of three seconds to realize what I’ve done, each of them tensing almost simultaneously with fury.

  Yes, assholes, I bought out your fancy little steakhouse and paid handsomely for every damn employee to walk out before you even had a chance to order. Looks like it’s Chinese takeout for dinner instead of steak.

  “I’d love to stay for the fireworks, but I have an early morning. Today, Miss Elliott.” I offer my arm. “Time to leave.”

  She stands up, tosses her phone into her purse before yanking it off the table, and hooks her arm with mine. Her scent teases and taunts me. I’m annoyed she smells so good. Right now, I don’t want to smell her. Hell, I can barely look at her.

  The restaurant is still full of patrons. Everyone’s faces are a sea of confusion as they wonder why the employees have left. But not the Morellis. They know they’ve been publicly fucked and now they’ll have to do the walk of shame.

  I stop in front of their table, flashing them a wolfish grin. “Ahh, well, if it isn’t the infamous Morellis. Coincidence running into you all here.”

  “Unlikely,” Lucian says, disgust written all over his face. “Nothing is ever coincidence where the Constantines are concerned. Especially you.”

  “You give me far too much credit,” I say back in a smooth tone. “I must warn you, though. It doesn’t look like you’ll be dining here tonight.”

  If looks could kill, I’d be a dead motherfucker. Luckily, their hate-filled glares glance off me without incident. Leo, however, is fuming with rage. The Beast of Bishop’s Landing. They call him that for a reason. Ash’s grip on my arm tightens, and though I’m pissed at her, I still won’t let that asshole touch one hair on her pretty little head.

  “Didn’t you hear?” I continue, my brow quirking. “The building was overrun by rats. We can’t have that, now, can we? A little extermination is in order before we can set this building back to rights.”

  Lucian stands up and glowers at me. His dark hair is impeccable, and his suit is pristine. But rats dressed in Tom Ford are still rats. Infesting the city as if money makes them royalty.

  “Are you threatening us?” Lucian demands in a low growl.

  “Gentlemen don’t have to resort to threats.” I pin Leo with a pointed look. “My father raised me better than that.”

  Leo scoffs. “And what about your mother? She’s a real piece of work. How did she raise you?”

  “You fucker.”

  Lucian’s jaw tightens with fury. “You’re starting something you won’t be able to finish.”

  They started this when they killed my father. Of course I can’t prove it, but I believe it. Who else has such a vendetta against my family? Regardless of what happened before, Leo opened up this can of shit when he thought it’d be okay to threaten something of mine. I didn’t sell him that building to protect Ash. I sold it because if he wanted to play, I was ready to fucking play. I’m only getting started.

  “I believe your brother started this when he broke our contractual agreement,” I tell Lucian. “Keep your beast on a leash.”

  Leo also rises from his seat, fury rippling from him in violent waves. Ash flinches but I remain unaffected. “This doesn’t end happily for you,” Leo snarls at me and then points a finger at her, “or for you, princess.”

  Ash sucks in a sharp breath. I can almost taste the fear emanating from her. Poor girl is terrified. It’s time she realizes the world she’s playing in.

  This isn’t a fairy tale.

  This is war…

  And only Constantines win those.

  * * *

  As soon as we’re squealing out of the parking garage and onto the busy street, I turn on Perry’s stupid classic rock station to drown out whatever it is Ash might want to say. It’s best she doesn’t say anything at all right now.

  I need to think.

  Leo Morelli ignored our deal. He was supposed to leave Ash alone in exchange for the ability to purchase the Baldridge building. It’s written into a legal goddamn document.

  He didn’t listen.

  Chose to terrorize her anyway.

  She was upset and terrified after he filled her head with threats to make her comply. I’ll figure out every detail of what’s going on. And once I do, there’ll be hell to pay…for all those involved.

  We pull into her apartment building an hour later after sitting in heavy traffic. She wisely keeps quiet. I shut off the car and climb out. It’s difficult to pry my gaze away from roaming down her smooth legs, but I manage to keep my dick in my pants for once. The ride to the twelfth floor is silent. Ash fidgets as though she wants to speak, but in the end, doesn’t. I wait for her to fish her keys out of her purse and then unlock the apartment door.

  “Do you want to come in so we can talk?” She gnaws on her pouty pink lip that’s always so damn distracting.

  “Talk?” A dark chuckle escapes me. “I don’t pay you to talk, Cinderelliott. I pay you to be my filthy toy.” I gesture toward the inside of the apartment. “Hence the whore apartment.”

  Her whole body flinches as though I’ve physically wounded her. I, on the other hand, feel nothing. She’s a sexual investment, not my girlfriend. This is a dirty game, not a relationship.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I need my dick sucked again,” I clip out, turning on my heel so I don’t see the heartbreak in her eyes. It doesn’t affect me. I warned her. “Goodnight.”

  The door clicks shut almost silently behind me. It cuts deep knowing that she’s going to spend the night in that apartment because of what went down tonight, but it doesn’t hurt me like it clearly hurts her. The gnawing I feel down to my bones is the sane man inside me reminding me this is why I don’t get close to people. They always fuck you in the end.

  I vowed my heart would never be open to pain.

  It’s impossible to break something that doesn’t exist, right?

  If only I could explain the deep, gutting ache inside my chest.

  I think they call that…regret.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ash

  Chirp.

  I love my bird. Shrimp is the best little birdie on the planet. But, the one single sound he makes isn’t a pleased one. It’s angry. Hurt. Scared. This, above anything else that’s happened tonight, is the most upsetting. I’ve let Winston down. And, I’ve let my damn bird down.

  Stupidly, I got swept up in the little fairy tale I’d imagined where I was a maid turned princess who perfectly fit into her filthy prince’s story. Winston, billionaire CEO and world’s hottest bachelor, gave me a fantasy not a reality. He offered me a world made of glass. I stepped into those new shoes, blinded by the shininess, eager to be his little plaything.

  But the cracking has begun.

  At the first sign of trouble, everything feels as though it’s going to shatter at my feet.

  No charming prince will be sweeping me in his arms this time.

  I bite down on my lip to keep from crying. I’m tired of crying. Emotionally exhau
sted. Sick of it. Swallowing down the tight ache in my throat, I lock the apartment door and then swivel around to greet my bird.

  “Shrimp,” I say in a raspy, wobbly voice as I toss my purse onto the love seat and kick off my heels. “Welcome home.” To the whore apartment.

  He flaps his wings angrily from inside his cage. I’m unnerved wondering how he even got here. Winston obviously handled this during all the chaos that was dinner when he’d been texting someone.

  It’s not just my bird.

  Sitting on my bed is my bag of toiletries, my backpack, and a garment bag that most definitely doesn’t belong to me. I don’t have to unzip it to know it’ll be filled with outfits that were once hanging in my room at Winston’s place.

  “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” I chant, even as fresh, hot tears roll out.

  I unlatch Shrimp’s cage door so he can get some space. Rather than hopping into my waiting hand, he flutters past me, swooping around the small area. He chirps in sharp, high-pitched noises that indicate he’s not pleased about his surroundings. The poor bird misses his chandelier playground, high ceilings, and huge windows.

  “I fucked it up,” I explain to him with a wave of my hand. “I can’t even begin to imagine what the fallout for all of this will be.”

  And I can’t.

  Winston wasn’t exactly chatty. I’m not sure if we’re through or if he expects me at work tomorrow. I don’t know if he still plans to interrogate me about Leo or what. Now that I’ve clearly pissed Leo off, I’m sure my sex life is being dragged through the mud and all over social media as I sit here feeling sorry for myself.

  I groan as I think about those videos of Winston doing all the filthy things he does to me getting out for everyone to see. Winston may not be worried about his reputation, but I do not want to start college in the fall having a sex scandal with a billionaire under my belt. Not to mention, Dad will just die if he catches wind of it.

  Everyone I know will see it.

  My enemies. The few friends I have left. The Constantines.

  Images of Keaton, Tinsley, and Perry all watching the video together in different variations of shock and disappointment makes me sick to my stomach.