by Amy DeLuca
Once Audrey and her family arrived, he would be busy hosting them. He couldn’t exactly go chasing around town after his old flame with his new fiancée in tow.
If he wanted to get any answers from Cinda about their past, this was his last chance.
The GPS led him to the agency’s office with no problem, and he parked in a spot in front of the two-story office complex.
The Fairy Godmother agency was located on the second floor in a corner office. It was a small, functional space with a few desks out in the open and another smaller interior room with a closed door and drawn blinds—either an office or a storage room perhaps. A receptionist sat at a desk just inside the entrance.
A twenty-something woman in expensive clothing, she had her back turned to the door and appeared to be speaking on her cellphone while painting her fingernails. Slow day, Alex guessed.
“And then I told her, you should have slapped that skank for even speaking to him.” The woman laughed loudly. “I know. Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do—especially when it comes to bagging a rich guy, ya know?”
Alex cleared his throat.
The woman jolted around, eyes wide with surprise. “Gotta go. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
Ending her call, she gave him a bright smile, her eyes roving over him in apparent interest. “Hello. Can I help you?”
Her tone was more seductive than professional. Alex ignored it.
“Yes. I’m looking for Cinda Brown. I’m a client. I’ve called a few times trying to reach her. I was hoping I could catch her in.”
Glancing behind the woman, he caught a flicker of movement. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought the blinds on the interior office window had moved slightly.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Just a minute.” The receptionist lifted the desk phone receiver and pressed a button, waited a minute and set it down. “She’s not answering. Let me just go get her.”
She stood and turned toward the small office but stopped when her cell phone chimed. Looking down at the screen, she appeared to read a message. Then she turned back to Alex.
“Um… actually she’s not here. I guess she went out when I was on break or something. Can I tell her who stopped by, take a message maybe?”
His eyes went to the closed office door again. Cinda was in there. He knew she was.
Either she’d seen him park outside or she’d peeked through the blinds and had instructed her receptionist via text to get rid of him.
Frustration boiled up his spine, reaching his scalp and heating it until he felt his brains would fry. He needed to talk to her, get some closure at long last.
He couldn’t be this close to her and not even see her.
For a moment, Alex had a wild impulse to charge past the receptionist and throw open the office door, force Cinda to face him or at least confirm his suspicions she was hiding from him.
And then you’d look like a lunatic. Not the impression you want to make—on her or the American police.
He rubbed his chin, breathing deeply to calm himself. “No thank you. I’ll catch her another time.”
The receptionist looked disappointed. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave your name and number?” she asked in a hopeful tone.
“I’m sure. Have a good day.”
He left the building, seething—not at Cinda—at himself. When would he get it through his thick skull?
It was a repeat of five years ago when he’d tried desperately to track her down, only to run into a roadblock at every turn.
He’d always suspected she’d asked her family to lie for her back then. Newport wasn’t that large. The entire state had a population of less than a million. There was no way he would have failed to find her unless she hadn’t wanted to be found.
When Cinda hadn’t shown up for their rendezvous, Alex’s first thought had been that something had happened to her.
He’d been frantic, at a loss for where to turn. His parents had never allowed him to visit any of his friends’ homes in Newport for security reasons. He and Cinda had only managed to see each other at the beach club. He had no idea where she lived.
So he’d called every Brown in the phone directory—and there were many—it was the second most common last name in the state of Rhode Island. Everyone he’d reached insisted there was no one named “Cinda” in their household. One of them had to have been lying.
He’d searched social media for any trace of Cinda, thinking to reach her that way, but either she had no accounts, or they were under a different name.
Even after returning to Aubernesse, he had tried to track her down, but his efforts had all come up empty.
And now he knew why.
She had wanted a clean break. She’d known he was leaving the country the next day, and she’d chosen not to say goodbye, just as she was choosing not to see him now.
The feelings this time were a bit less raw, but the rejection still hurt.
The months he’d spent with Cinda had been the happiest of his life. He’d never felt that way about someone before or since. At the time he would have bet everything he owned she had felt the same.
And he would have been wrong.
Returning to the mansion, Alex went to his suite and opened his laptop. He needed to put Cinda out of his mind—for good. It wasn’t fair to Audrey deRamel for him to still be this hung up on another woman. That was no way to begin a marriage—arranged or not.
Maybe if he saw Cinda with another man, she wouldn’t still feel so very his.
That was the excuse he gave himself for searching the social media sites for her. A few photos of her wrapped in the arms of a boyfriend or husband would go a long way.
But same as before, she had no presence on any of them. The only result a search engine query turned up this time was her place of business, which Alex already knew.
He slammed his laptop closed just as Cameron walked into his room.
“Wow. What did Apple ever do to you?” his brother quipped. He was dressed to go out—dark designer jeans, light cashmere sweater, brown Berluti leather boots.
“Nothing,” Alex replied. “Just… frustrated.”
“Don’t worry. The weather will clear up. It wouldn’t dare interfere with one of Marni Wessex’s fabulous society balls.”
When Alex failed to laugh at his joke, Cam moved closer. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You haven’t had that sad sack look on your face since the last time we were all here and left Newport. This place makes you mopey.”
“I saw her.”
“Saw who? Audrey? I thought the deRamels weren’t getting in until Thursday.”
“Not her. The girl.”
Cam’s eyes bulged. “The girl? The one you were so messed up over?”
“That’s the one.”
Alex told him about running into Cinda unexpectedly right there under their own roof.
“Incredible. How did she look?”
“Still beautiful. More beautiful actually.”
“Excellent. When are you going to see her again?”
“Never, apparently. She’s dodging my phone calls. She’s not interested.”
Cam made a scoffing sound. “Of course she’s interested. You’re a prince. Women are always interested in a prince.”
“Not this one.”
He looked truly perplexed. “Weird. It always works for me.”
“It works for you a little too well. Anyway, it doesn’t even matter. My engagement will become official on Saturday night. Might as well give it up and follow the family motto—‘duty first.’”
Cam laughed. “You sound like Father. I prefer my motto—‘me first.’ Just tell Mother and Father whatever it is they want to hear and then do what you want to do. That’s my approach.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not first in line to the throne.”
“And thank Heaven for that.” Cam grinned. “But being crown prince doesn’t mean you c
an’t have a life. You can still be with whatever woman you want to be with—even with the arranged marriage nonsense.”
Alex gave him an affronted glare. “I’m not a cheater. Once I say my vows, I’m going to be faithful to Audrey.”
Cam grinned. “Yes, but you haven’t said them yet. You’re not even officially engaged. And who knows, maybe you ran into Cinda for a reason.”
“What reason could that be?”
“To give you a chance to make peace with your past—which you obviously haven’t done, or you wouldn’t be sitting there looking like such a mooncalf after one five-minute conversation with this woman. Listen, you’ve got a few more days left as a free man. I suggest you use them to see your long-lost love, find out that she’s not the perfect paragon that your gilded memories have made her into but a normal, flawed woman like all the rest of them. Then you can put this whole thing behind you and step into your future without any baggage.”
“When you put it that way it sounds like I’d be doing Audrey a favor by seeing Cinda again,” Alex said.
His brother laughed. “There you go. Now you’re seeing things my way.”
“What if she won’t see me? She’s been avoiding me pretty effectively so far.”
Cam raised a sardonic brow. “You’ve got truckloads of money and a royal title. You’ll figure it out. So, are you going into Boston with me or will you make me go alone? I’m going to grab some Italian food in the North End, and Janey told me about a sick new rooftop nightclub in the financial district.”
“Nah, you go ahead. I need to come up with a plan. I’m sure you won’t be lonely for long.”
“Never am. Good luck with it then.”
“Thanks.” Alex watched his brother leave, deciding Cam was right—he had to get over Cinda before he could move on with someone else, spend his life with someone else. It was imperative.
Which meant drastic measures were called for.
Seven
Drastic Measures
Cinda returned from lunch, scanning the parking lot and sneaking into her own office like a thief. It seemed like the only way to avoid Alexander Wessex.
She’d been stunned when she’d looked out the window this morning to see his Rolls Royce pulling into the parking lot of her office complex.
Well, he’d never been one to give up easily. The summer they’d met, she’d refused his first few invitations to walk on the beach with him, have lunch with him, knowing it was frowned upon to fraternize with the beach club guests.
But Alex had been so charming, so sweetly persistent, and Heaven help her so gorgeous, she’d finally given in. They’d spent every day after that together, falling deeper and deeper in love all summer—until her father had died and Alex had disappeared.
The office was empty when she got there, its door locked.
Where was Trudy? Cinda pulled her phone from her bag and checked the screen, remembering the device had chimed while she was driving.
Trudy: Sorry-had to leave a little early. Made an emergency hair appointment and Traci and I need to go shopping for formal wear. There’s a prince in town! Mom’s friend Cricket got the two of us invitations to a ball at his family’s mansion on Saturday. Can you believe?
She could. Cinda’s stepmother would do anything necessary to throw her two biological daughters into the path of rich men, including prevailing upon friends, relations, and virtual strangers if need be.
Cinda was certain her obsession with them “marrying well” was the reason neither of her stepsisters had made use of their college degrees and instead relied upon her for a paycheck.
They swore they’d looked for jobs, and it was simply a tight market with nothing available. Cinda feared it had more to do with the fact there was nowhere else they could get away with doing so little actual work without getting fired.
She was sorely tempted at the moment. It wasn’t “a little early.” It was only one o’clock.
She texted back.
Cinda: I need you here. You can shop after work.
There was no reply, so she called first Trudy and then Traci. Both calls went to voicemail.
Great. Now she was alone in the office for the rest of the day. She’d have to hide behind the closed blinds again, leaving the front desk unmanned.
The office phone rang, and Cinda nearly picked it up on autopilot.
Thankfully, she noticed the number on the caller ID readout first. It was Alex. Had to be—they didn’t get many callers from foreign area codes.
Heart racing, she sat back in her chair and let the call go to the answering machine.
Once the light blinked indicating there was a message, she hit the playback button. It was Alex, all right, and he did not sound happy.
“This is Alexander Wessex. I’ve tried repeatedly to reach the management of this agency about an urgent matter. If I do not hear back from your manager, Cinda Brown, by the end of today, I will cancel my family’s cleaning contract and take our business elsewhere.”
His words were clipped and precise, his tone every bit as haughty and regal as you’d expect from a royal.
“Furthermore, I will inform my friends and neighbors here about how unreliable Fairy Godmother Home Cleaning Services is and how unhappy I’ve been with your lack of communication with your clients. As we are hosting many of Newport’s most influential residents at a formal ball this weekend, we’ll have plenty of time to chat about such matters. Thank you and good day.”
Good day indeed. He was blackmailing her.
Fuming, Cinda lifted the receiver and hit the call-back button. Alex answered after one ring.
“That’s a bit better,” he said. “Thank you for returning my call at long last.”
“If this is your idea of being ‘charming’ you’d better go back to prince-school. Your act needs some work.”
He laughed. “Still as witty as I remember.”
Not allowing herself to be swayed by his warm tone or the organic richness of his voice, Cinda kept hers businesslike. “What do you want, Alex?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not trying to strongarm you into a dinner date. I got the message loud and clear. This call is strictly professional. I need your services.”
Her shoulders, which had risen nearly to her earlobes with tension, settled a bit.
“What can Fairy Godmother do for you?”
“I own a property on Block Island. The cottage hasn’t been used in quite some time and needs immediate attention. I’d like for you to take care of it for me.”
“I see.”
Block Island was a small island off Rhode Island’s south coast, whose beaches and quaint New England charm made it a popular destination for summer and early fall visitors. It had only a tiny year-round residential population, and the hotels and many of the restaurants in the island’s lone town closed for the off-season, shuttering their doors the last week of September.
Cinda was surprised Alex’s family would use their home there at this time of year, but maybe they wanted the seclusion and privacy. And who was she to ask questions? He was offering her agency more work.
It was certainly better than having the monarchy of Aubernesse trashing her company to all their tony Bellevue Avenue neighbors.
“How many square feet is the ‘cottage?’” she asked.
That word had been used by some of Newport’s most illustrious families over the years to describe waterfront mansions as big as a Walmart, so she knew better than to assume anything.
“Not big. A few thousand square feet. Four bedrooms. Six baths. Shouldn’t take you long. And I’ll be happy to pay a premium since I’m asking you to fit it in with your existing jobs with so little warning.”
“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll put it in the schedule for early next week.”
“Oh, no. That won’t do. We’ll need it to be ready by this weekend. I need it done right away.”
“There’s a storm coming. If you weren’t aware, Hurricane Beattie is moving up the coast and exp
ected to make landfall here sometime on Thursday or early Friday. Even if it’s downgraded to a tropical storm, the ferries won’t be running.”
“So do it tomorrow—before the storm arrives.”
Cinda rolled her eyes. Rich people. They really did think the world revolved around them.
“My crews are all busy tomorrow.”
“I think you may have misunderstood me,” Alex said calmly. “No crew. You. I want you to take care of it. No one else. There shouldn’t be any heavy lifting involved, so you should be able to manage it alone.”
Cinda couldn’t hold back her gasp. “I’m busy tomorrow, too.”
“I realize you have a business to run. As I mentioned, I’ll make it worth your while. How about a bonus to cover the inconvenience and late notice?”
Alex named an astronomical figure that made Cinda’s jaw fall open.
Now she was suspicious. No one needed their extra vacation home cleaned that badly. Or maybe he was just that rich and the vast sum was a mere pittance to him.
“Alex… you aren’t by any chance planning to be on Block Island tomorrow, are you? Because I’ve already told you there’s nothing—”
He chuckled. “I promise you’ll arrive to an empty house. I have a noon meeting here in Newport tomorrow. It’ll run well into the afternoon.”
That reassured her. The last ferry to Block Island left the mainland at five p.m.
Even if he did intend to go after his meeting, she’d be long gone by then. She could take the first ferry of the day at nine a.m. and be on the three p.m. return ferry at the latest. That would leave him no time to intercept her at the house—if indeed he was planning to do so.
And she needed the money.
She had to make this business work for AJ’s sake. He was counting on her. To a lesser degree, so were Trudy and Traci. She could bank the money from this job to get them through the off-season and maybe even hire some extra hands for the busy season next summer.
Alex had literally made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.
“Very well. I’ll do it. But I want payment in full—before I get on that ferry.”
