The Glass Slipper: A Cinderella Novel

by K. Webster

  Whore apartment, I correct.

  It’s hard to think of it as a whore apartment though. Especially since I spent my lunch hour yesterday buying new plants and décor for it. I even got a pretty new bedspread and a matching rug. It’s feeling a lot more like home.

  “Can you tell him to come see me after?” I grit out since he’s not been responding to my texts either.

  More ammunition for this hag.

  “Oh,” she says, making a fake sad face, “I’m afraid he can’t do that. He has a lunch date with Layla Reynard.” She lowers her voice. “Between us, I think this is exactly what he needs to take the heat off him. She’s his age and of his same caliber. It really is for the best. I hope you understand.”

  I blink at her, unimpressed with her attempt to run me off. Winston can be an asshole of epic proportions, but when he’s truly done with me, he’ll have the balls to say it to my face. No, this thing is something else entirely. I’m curious what he’s up to.

  “Right,” I throw back, “I guess I should just grab the next best thing. You know, someone closer to my age. Have you seen Perry around?” I flash her a sly grin that promises deviant behavior with him as well.

  She scowls. “I’m not responsible for his schedule. You’re more than welcome to check with Cora—”

  “Perry!” I call out across the lobby when I see him exit the elevator. “There you are!”

  Now that we’ve smoothed things over since the lunch from hell, he’s back to his usual self. He saunters my way, a grin on his handsome face. Knowing it’ll just give the office something to gossip about, I hug him and whisper, “Pretend you’re thrilled to see me.”

  “There’s my favorite girl,” he says loud enough for Deborah to hear. “What’s up?”

  “Just missed you is all. What’s on the agenda?”

  I pull away from our hug and hook my arm in his. We walk past the executive assistants, not looking at them. I chatter to him about my new bedspread that I can’t wait for him to see. By the time we make it to his office, we’re both no longer able to smother our laughter. He closes the office door and takes his seat. I drop down into the one across from him.

  “Well, that was dramatic. For my brother’s benefit?”

  “He’s not here.” I frown, crossing my arms over my chest. “Apparently he’s going on a date with Layla.” I say her name like Perry says Tate’s.

  “Layla who?”

  “Reynard. According to Deborah, he’s moving on from me and using Layla to steer the attention away from our filthy sex scandal.”

  He studies me as he takes in this new information. “Win’s not moving on from you. He’s just being a pissy bastard.”

  I haven’t told Perry about that night Win came over, our deal, and his subsequent leaving before upholding his end of said deal. He still thinks his brother is mad about Leo. I’m pretty sure we’ve moved past that. At this point, I think Win strategizes all day on ways to be annoyed with me so it’ll be easier to push me away.

  “Let’s look her up,” I tell him, standing to come around to his side of the desk. “I want to see what makes her so damn interesting to him that he’d be having a second lunch with her.”

  Perry turns on his laptop and opens Facebook. He types in her name, quickly finding her profile. Since he’s Perry, he friend-requests her and she immediately accepts, giving us access to her life.

  “Your pretty face and last name are good for something,” I tease him. “Now let’s see what this lady looks like.”

  Ugh.

  “Not gonna lie, Ash, she’s hot.” Perry laughs when I scoff. “Not as hot as you, of course.”

  “You’re a dick. Focus.” I swat his hand away from the touchpad and use my fingers to navigate our search toward her photos. “Married. Ew.”

  But it doesn’t take long to find out that her husband passed away. They had a yacht named Layla Love and the pair stand proudly in front of it. The smile she wears in that picture is missing from the more recent ones. Guilt twists in my gut.

  “Pretty, rich, and sad.” I let out a sigh. “I can’t hate her on anything except that she’s got his attention while I don’t.”

  “She’s not his type,” Perry says in a reassuring tone. “Trust me.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Too sweet. He likes his women filled with fire.”

  And a fucking freak like him.

  “She looks kind of vanilla,” I agree. “I bet yacht sex was her thing.”

  “Yacht sex is everyone’s thing.”

  “For boring rich people, yes. You’re not much older than me, Perry. Tell me you don’t have yacht sex. Gross.”

  “Do yacht blowjobs count?”

  I elbow him and go to the search bar, changing it from Layla to Leo Morelli. This time, Perry smacks my hand away. He closes the app on his computer and glowers at me.

  “What?” I demand, hands flying to my hips.

  “That’s not how we get information, dumbass.”

  “We literally just got information about Layla that way.”

  “Don’t say her name like that. Makes you sound bitchy.”

  “I say Layla the same way you say Tate.”

  “Tate.” He grimaces. “Okay, so they do sort of come out the same way.”

  “I rest my case. Now, tell me how we can drum up more information on Leo.”

  He scrubs a palm over his face in exasperation. “How did I get stuck on babysitting duty again?”

  “Screw off.”

  “Seriously. Haven’t you gotten into enough shit because of Morelli?”

  “I just hate sitting around twiddling my thumbs…waiting for something to happen.”

  “You think Winny is playing at something big?”

  “It’s the only logical reason as to why he could ignore this.” I wave a hand down my outfit that had a guy on the elevator earlier stammering all over his words as he tried to keep his gaze from my cleavage.

  “You play dirty. Just like him. This is why you’ll have all his babies one day.”

  I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach at the thought of being pregnant with his child. It’s too sweet of a fantasy. Quickly, I lock it away and stay focused on the present.

  “What’s up with the building anyway?” I demand. “I’d have thought he’d make his move by now. Everything is too stagnant. I can’t take it.”

  “Calm your tits, woman.” He laughs at himself and then says, “My brother doesn’t announce his moves before he makes them. He prefers to arrange all the dominoes just so and then thunk.” He makes a flicking motion. “He watches them all topple into each other one by one.”

  “Win and his games,” I grumble.

  “It’s one of the things you love about him.”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “That list is small.”

  “I thought you were Cinderella, not Pinocchio.”

  “Fine. I enjoy his mastermind. Happy?”

  “Unbelievably so.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and flashes me an evil grin. “Now, what is it you want to know about Leo? If we’re going to scheme, we have to do it the right way.”

  “Which is…”

  “Ulrich. I’m pretty sure it was his ass who tattled on me for wrecking my dad’s sailboat once. He’s Mom’s creepy eyes—all seeing.”

  “Giant scary guy?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Seems like maybe he’s seeing things for Win too.”

  “Told you,” Perry says with a grin.

  “We need to find out why Leo was at my house the night of the birthday ball. What is his connection to the triplets?”

  “Speaking of the psychotwats, what ever happened with them?”

  I shrug, trying not to think about the fact that Dad hasn’t returned my texts since our visit the other day. I even sent him the address to my apartment and invited him to dinner. The message was read but he didn’t respond. He chose Manda and let me fend for myself. It hurts more than I care to dwell on. Something on
my face must have the perceptive Perry Constantine sniffing out my pain because he gives me a firm glare that’s as serious as I’ve ever seen him.

  “You’re Team Constantine now,” he assures me. “You have us.”

  “Not all of you.”

  “Win will come around. Trust me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Winston

  Layla Reynard waits by the hostess stand of an upscale bistro that’s more my mother’s taste than mine. I’m usually not caught dead in a place like this—quiches and muffins and flavored teas. But this was my idea, not Layla’s. Apparently it’s where all the rich bitches like Meredith like to go.

  There’s a method to my madness. There always is.

  “Layla,” I greet, offering my hand. “Thanks for agreeing to lunch again.”

  “Lunch with the most notorious man in New York City,” she says with a pleasant smile. “How could I refuse?”

  I chuckle and then hold up two fingers to the hostess and tell her my last name before turning my attention to Layla. “My lawyers are working to keep my notoriety at a more manageable level.”

  “They certainly have their work cut out for them.” She flashes me another friendly smile.

  The hostess guides us around to a table I’d called ahead to request. It has a great view of the entire restaurant. Once I’ve pulled out a chair for Layla, I take my seat across from her. My phone buzzes and I pull it out to check to see if it’s anything from Ulrich or Mother.

  Ash.

  It’s a selfie of her and Perry. They’re both discreetly flipping the bird at the camera. I’m half-tempted to send her five hundred bucks before remembering I called a time-out on everything Ash related.

  “Haven’t ever seen that smile on you before, Winston.”

  My frown chases away the stupid grin on my face. “My brother.” And the gorgeous fucking girl right beside him.

  “Ahh, brothers. I have three myself. They’re all annoying as can be.”

  Our conversation is paused as the server comes by to take our drink order. Thankfully, when we return back to talking, I’ve regrouped and am not distracted by Ash Elliott.

  “How have things been?”

  “Hard,” she admits. “Everyone wants me to move on. But…”

  “You can’t move on from someone who was such an important part of your life. The hole is too gaping.”

  Her gaze softens and she nods. “Your dad?”

  I give her a clipped nod. “It’s been five years. Still a gaping wound.”

  “You’re different than I remember from prep school.”

  I certainly don’t tell her I can’t even remember her. Which was part of the reason for wanting to have lunch with her again. I’d been curious as to what her motives were in all this. She was clearly roped into our initial lunch date, but I get the sense she’s just a distraction and nothing more. This woman doesn’t have ulterior motives. Just a pawn in someone else’s game.

  “So,” I say, changing the subject, “what are you doing these days?”

  She takes a sip of her martini and sighs. “Whatever I can to stay busy. I want to go back out on the yacht but I’m afraid it won’t be the same.”

  “It won’t,” I tell her honestly. There are many things that I can’t do now that Dad is gone. “But you’ll find other things.”

  “Maybe,” she says, a glimmer of interest flickering in her gaze.

  Sorry, Layla, but your flicker of interest won’t do. Not when I have a girl sending me “fuck you” selfies with my baby brother in order to get my attention. Besides, this isn’t that kind of lunch. This is a different lunch altogether.

  “Meredith,” Layla calls out, waving.

  Ahh, the other reason for wanting to have this lunch. Kill two birds with one stone and all that. I lean back in my seat, tracking my eyes over to where Meredith stares at me dumfounded with Manda by her side.

  “Layla,” Meredith says as they approach. “So random seeing you here. And with Winny, too.”

  Still so jealous.

  I wonder if Duncan knows his wife would sell her left tit to get back in my good graces.

  “So random,” I agree in a tone that says this isn’t random at all but in fact very orchestrated. “Your hair looks nice, Mer.”

  Mer.

  Predictably so, Meredith fluffs at her hair, flashing me a seductive smile. Her eyes flit over to Layla, roaming over her to sense whether or not she’s a threat, and then she reaches over to pat my shoulder. “You’re such a sweetheart. Careful or I’ll divorce Dunc for you.” She winks in a playful way that says she’s not joking in the least.

  Manda’s lips thin out from beside Meredith. I seriously doubt it’s because she thinks I’m dating her stepdaughter. No, Manda doesn’t like her bestie turning into a Constantine fangirl.

  Constantine fangirl?

  I’ve been hanging around Perry too much.

  “We should go to our table now,” Manda says, forcing a polite smile at me and Layla. “Lovely seeing you again, Mr. Constantine.”

  “How are the boys?” I ask, feigning concern. “I heard about the terrible accident.” I also watched it from the best seat in the house.

  Manda bristles, her features melding back and forth between embarrassment and motherly protectiveness. “They’re back home recovering. Thank you for asking.” She grabs hold of Meredith’s arm, but the woman has her eye on the prize. Me. She’s not going anywhere.

  “I’d assumed Scout would be in jail,” I say with a lifted brow. “Rumor has it he was wasted.”

  “The boys are traumatized from the accident. It’s been like pulling teeth trying to get them to tell me exactly what happened.” Manda straightens her spine. “Boys will be boys. Nothing a little money can’t smooth over. You understand being a Constantine and all.”

  “Our well is endless,” I agree, “but I’m sorry to hear about your recent lawsuits.”

  “Lawsuits?” Layla asks, brows scrunching.

  “Malpractice,” I state as Manda huffs out, “Misunderstanding.”

  “And all people you’ve known for years,” I goad, pinning Manda with a knowing glare. “What a coincidence. It makes you wonder if it was planned by those women. A conspiracy to take all your money.”

  Manda’s features darken and her nostrils flare.

  “Maybe you should take a vacation from it all,” I suggest. “Paris is great this time of year. Perry and I just went.”

  Meredith nudges Manda. “Why don’t you order us our drinks? I’ll be over in a second.”

  “How’s Ash doing?” Manda asks, feet planted firmly despite her friend trying to get her to move along to avoid sparring with me. Seems the temptation is too great. “Her father was horribly embarrassed over her behavior. They’re not even speaking.”

  Her barb hits me in the gut. I’m not supposed to be worrying about Ash right now, but a wave of hot irritation flashes over me. Her father’s a dick if he’s not speaking to her over this. She’d mentioned he’d basically chosen Manda over her, but seeing it with my own two eyes makes it more real. It also makes me want to call Ash to check on her.

  Later.

  My chest tightens. I’ve been pretending like I don’t miss that bratty girl, but it’s getting more difficult to lie to myself. I’m starting to call out my own bullshit.

  “Ash is an incredibly resilient young lady. She’s been working with my colleagues, really getting her footing in at the company. It’s almost as if the scandal hasn’t even affected her. Remarkable really.” I pick up my water glass and take a refreshing sip. “If we’re comparing scandals, I’d say your sons’ has affected them greatly.”

  Manda’s face burns bright red and then she storms off without another word. I shrug my shoulders feigning innocence. “Was it something I said?”

  “She’s going through a rough time,” Meredith assures me. “She doesn’t understand your sense of humor.” She lingers for a moment longer, remaining in my space as though I might suddenly c
hoose her, yank her into my lap, and kiss away the past nearly two decades.

  “It was good seeing you,” I say, dismissing her. “See you around.”

  Her plastic smile wavers. “Of course.” To Layla, she says, “Don’t let this one go. He’s a catch.”

  Layla doesn’t say anything until Meredith walks away. “Was this some strange attempt to use me to make your ex-girlfriend jealous?”

  At this, I laugh, genuine and loud. “The only jealous girl right now is Manda’s stepdaughter.”

  “The teenager you corrupted according to the news?”

  “That one.”

  “You knew this wasn’t that sort of lunch, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. You’re still grieving. I’m not an asshole. Besides, guys don’t go on that sort of lunch when they have a jealous teenage girlfriend sending them selfies every ten minutes. That’s just begging for drama.”

  She relaxes at my honesty. “Now that we’ve cleared that up that I’m not trying to date anyone, can I be frank with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “That whole encounter just now was really strange.”

  “Can’t agree with you more.”

  We move the conversation on to other things. She circles back to her husband she lost and I divulge bits of the loss of my father as well. Layla isn’t that bad, but she’s no Ash. Even if I were in the market and Layla wasn’t still aching over her husband, we still wouldn’t be a match. On paper we’d look good, sure, but there’s no fiery chemistry like what I have with Ash.

  No one has ever gotten me so riled up the way Ash does.

  Not even Meredith.

  Ash is everywhere all at once. There’s no escaping her. I’m not sure I even want to.

  After a pleasant lunch, I find myself once again distracted by texts from Ash, this time smirking at her most recent one.

  Ash: If you don’t respond, I’ll be forced to take your brother hostage in an Uber.

  Me: Who’s the villain now, evil one? I’m practically the hero from saving the little prince from certain death by communicable disease picked up in a petri dish Ford Focus.

  Ash: You and hero don’t go in the same sentence. Nice try. Did you have to google “normal people” cars? I’m a little shocked you even know what a Ford Focus is.