Claiming Cinderella: A Dirty Billionaire Fairy Tale

by Amy Brent

  The first time I succumbed to temptation was on New Year's Eve. My stepfather brought us to a big gala filled with people wearing custom-tailored tuxedos and colorful dresses that probably cost more money than I made in a month. I wandered the room for the first half hour of the party, helping myself to free food and expensive champagne, while I looked around for my stepbrother. I knew he'd be there; he always at least put in a brief appearance at these things, even if he was planning to duck out halfway through.

  I was about to give up looking when I heard his voice coming from behind me. “You look like a woman who wants something.”

  I turned to face him, my face heating up. I wasn't ready to admit what I wanted, though when I looked up at him and saw the possessive look in his eyes, it made my knees weak.

  “Just looking for a chance to blow this lame party,” I said.

  “Is that all you're looking for?” He reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. I whimpered and leaned my face into his hand, then pulled away when I realized what I was doing.

  “Well, a place to see the fireworks would be nice, too,” I said, trying to cover my reaction to his presence. I downed the rest of my champagne, turning away from Matt so he wouldn't see my blush.

  “I know just the place,” he said.

  He took my hand and led me across the room, then out into the hall. We got into an elevator and went all the way up to the top floor of the high-rise building. I thought we were stopping there, but then he led me down the hall and to the stairs that led up to the roof.

  “Are we allowed to go up there?” I asked.

  “Do you care?” He smirked at me.

  I smiled as well. “I guess not.”

  The door was locked, but he found a way to force it open. He led me up the stairs and out onto the rooftop. We walked past air conditioning units and a satellite dish, then sat on a metal box that covered some kind of electrical equipment.

  “It's beautiful up here,” I said.

  “I'll say.”

  I looked over at Matt and saw that he wasn't looking at the view. I blushed and turned away. I felt his eyes still on me.

  “You're making me uncomfortable,” I whispered.

  “Maybe you like being uncomfortable.” He put an arm around my waist and pulled me closer.

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. His touch made me tremble. I was scared of being caught up here, but I liked the idea of being caught with him. I wondered what my mother would think if she saw me up here with my stepbrother.

  Matt started rubbing my back. His fingers felt amazing. I let out a soft sigh and leaned against him. He leaned closer, his warm breath tickling my neck. I caught him looking down the front of my dress. Had I worn such a low-cut dress on purpose? Did I like the way it drew his eye? I wasn't sure, but deep down, I suspected that I'd done it to lure him in.

  “You're a beautiful woman,” he whispered.

  I didn't hear those kinds of words often. Not from men. Not from wealthy, dangerous men like Matt. “You're just saying that,” I said.

  “I never lie about such things.” His hand slid lower, straying below my waistline. I stiffened, but I couldn't bring myself to make him stop.

  His hand slid even lower as his lips brushed my neck. I held myself perfectly still, craving more of his touch, but refusing to let myself indulge. It felt so wrong. Maybe that was why I wanted it.

  When his other hand slid up my leg and tried to move under my skirt, I jumped and pulled away. “No.”

  “Why not?” He looked me up and down, licking his lips. “You want it. I know you want it. You know you want it. So why not?”

  “Because we're related.”

  “Not by blood.”

  I shook my head. I couldn't let myself cross that line. I imagined what it would be like if I got pregnant by my stepbrother. The humiliation. The scandal. If I still lived a normal, carefree, middle-class life, it might be different. But ever since my mother married one of the richest men in the country, my life had become anything but normal. I wasn't even really attached to the Partridges or their media empire, but I was still hounded from time to time by paparazzi, and I wasn't sure how much privacy I had anymore. I'd been photographed by a few tabloids, which had called me a “wild child” who was allegedly “living off her stepfather's fortune.” That couldn't be further from the truth. I hadn't seen a dime of my stepfather's money, and I doubted I ever would. But the media didn't care. And they wouldn't care about my privacy or my feelings if it were discovered that I'd slept with my stepbrother.

  Matt studied the look in my eyes, a wicked grin on his face. “Come on, baby,” he said, unzipping his pants. “You got me all worked up. Are you really going to leave me like this?”

  He exposed himself to me and I licked my lips. It had been a long time since I'd been with a man. Most men were shallower than Matt, and didn't want to get involved with a heavier girl. Oh, I'd had a few boyfriends in the past, but it had never worked out. And I'd never been one for casual dating.

  I'd also never been the kind of girl who would fool around with a man on a windy rooftop on New Year's Eve. Maybe it was the champagne in me. Maybe it was the height, the way the city spread out beneath us. Maybe it was the fireworks that started erupting in the air overhead.

  I moved closer, lowering myself to my knees. “I'm not sleeping with you,” I said.

  Matt slid a hand into my hair and wrapped his fingers around the back of my head. “Whatever you say, baby doll.”

  He pulled my head closer and I submitted, taking him into my mouth. He was hard and he was eager, pulling me down and forcing it in until I choked. I moaned, savoring the taste of him. He was warm and I could just taste the saltiness of his sweat. It spurred me on. I wrapped my hand around him and started giving him what he wanted. What I wanted.

  I looked up at him as I savored the taste of him. He had a smug, dominant grin, and he kept his hand firmly on the back of my head to keep me from pulling away. I used my tongue on his most sensitive spots, making him moan and pull my head down harder with each thrust. When I had to come up for air, I let my fingers work the magic, while I whispered naughty things to him to egg him on.

  “God,” he said as he smiled down at me. “You really are a naughty little thing, aren't you?”

  I grinned, but before I could reply my mouth was full again. I closed my eyes and pretended that this was okay, that there was nothing wrong with it, that I wouldn't be humiliated if anyone found out. In the moment, all I cared about was embracing my lust. My free hand strayed between my own legs, sending sparks of electricity flying throughout my body.

  Matt started pulling my head up and down with more force, and I knew he was close. I wanted his seed inside of me. I was nearly willing to spread my legs and take him in the most forbidden way, but before I worked up the nerve, he reached his climax. I swallowed as much as I could, though I still ended up with an embarrassing mess all over my face.

  “God, that was amazing,” Matt said as I wiped my face on his pant legs. “Hey, those are Italian!”

  “You're complaining?” I smirked at him.

  He snorted and shook his head. “Hell no. That was the best time I've ever had with a girl.”

  I got up and straightened my clothes and hair. I didn't want to go back down to the party looking like I'd just been down on my knees. Setting aside how embarrassing that would be, it would raise questions that I would never be able to answer. I supposed that I could maybe make up a story about meeting a guy at the party, but there was too much chance that someone, anyone, might have seen me and Matt leaving the party together. That could lead to scandal.

  Matt zipped his pants. “You're amazing, babe,” he whispered. He leaned in to kiss me.

  I pulled away and turned my face from him. “Don't.”

  “What?” He laughed and shook his head. “Don't go telling me that you're getting all shy now. Not after what you just did.”

  “I gave you what you
wanted,” I said, refusing to look at him. “It...it's not going to happen again.”

  My chest felt tight. I'd wanted this to happen. Deep down, I knew I had. But I was ashamed of myself. For wanting him. For giving in to temptation. For letting my defenses down. But most of all, I was ashamed that I still wanted more.

  “Anne...”

  “Don't.” I stepped away from him, heading for the stairs. “Please, just don't.”

  He followed, but kept his distance. We headed back down to the party, entering through separate doors. I avoided him for the rest of the night.

  When it was almost time to leave, my mother found me. “Anne! There you are. Where have you been? And why is your dress all dirty?”

  I looked down at my skirt and saw black stains from where I'd knelt on the rooftop. “I...I fell. But I'm fine.”

  “Dear, what's wrong?” She cupped my face with her hand, as if checking for a fever. “You're all red. Is everything okay?”

  I caught Matt's eyes from across the room. “Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine.”

  * * *

  I tried to avoid Matt for a while after that. I skipped a few of the gatherings I was invited to over the next few months. When I couldn't get out of attending an event, I stayed away from him, hoping he would leave me alone. Though at the same time, I missed him. He brought out a wild side of me that I hadn't even known I'd had. I craved the feel of his skin against mine, the rush of his motorcycle between my legs, the scent of his manly sweat. But like an addict trying to stay on the wagon, I did my best to avoid him.

  And I did just fine until my stepfather got sick.

  I rushed into the hospital late one night, clutching my jacket around myself. It was a frigid evening, and pockets of snow from earlier in the winter still covered parts of the ground. The heat of the emergency room blasted me in the face as soon as I left the cold night behind. I looked around the room, searching for my mother. She was sitting in the waiting room, clutching her hands in front of her and crying. Matt sat next to her, rubbing her back and speaking softly to her.

  “What happened?” I asked as I approached them. My mother had frantically called me a short time before, telling me that my stepfather had suffered an attack, but she hadn't offered any details. She had been too upset to talk.

  Matt got up and pulled me aside, giving my mother some space. “Dad had a stroke,” he said. “The doctors are with him now. But it doesn't look good.”

  “Oh, Matt. I'm so sorry.” I put my arms around him and held him close. He leaned his head against my shoulder. I could feel the tension in his muscles. I could only imagine what he was going through. I didn't know what it was like to lose a parent. My own dad had walked out on us, but he was still alive, even if we barely spoke anymore.

  “I'm fine,” Matt said. He clung to me as if I were the only thing keeping him from breaking down. “I've been ready for this for a while. Dad's not a young man. But it was...so sudden.”

  My mind raced, trying to think about what I should do. I really didn't know Mr. Partridge very well. We'd chatted here and there, but he'd never made any real effort to get to know me. I didn't even think he'd made the effort to get to know my mother, outside of the bedroom at least. It made it hard for me to mourn for him. I felt bad, but losing him wouldn't touch me deep inside the way it would if I'd lost my own father.

  But Matt was being hit hard. And I needed to comfort him.

  One of the doctors came out to talk to us. She said that Mr. Partridge was conscious, and that it would be okay for my mother to go in and talk to him. But they didn't want to disturb him by having a crowd inside the room, so Matt and I would have to wait out here.

  “I won't be long,” Mom said, squeezing my hands. I watched her follow the doctor back to my stepfather's room. Matt stood by my side, his back stiff and his face pale. I took his hand and squeezed it. He clung to my hand, and I could tell he was barely keeping himself from shaking.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let's take a walk.”

  We went out into the freezing night and walked along a footpath that wound around the hospital. The brisk movement kept us warm against the frigid wind. We didn't say anything for a while, merely letting the exercise get our blood pumping and clear our minds.

  “I'm going to have to sell the company,” Matt finally said.

  “Why?” I didn't know much about the Partridge family's media enterprises, only that they were one of the biggest companies out there.

  He shrugged. “It's not my thing. I never cared for being a businessman. I'm sure someone out there will buy it. Maybe Disney or Warner.”

  I thought about that, and figured that it was probably for the best. Matt's carefree attitude and general disdain for responsibility wouldn't lend itself to running a nationwide corporation. I couldn't imagine him wearing a suit and tie, sitting at a board meeting, and voting at stockholder conferences.

  “Well, whatever you do,” I said, “I'm here for you.”

  He stopped, holding me by the arm. “Do you mean that?”

  I froze, looking up at him. There was something dangerous about the look in his eyes. Something thrilling.

  “Yes,” I whispered, my voice a tiny squeak.

  And then he kissed me.

  He was rough and controlling, pulling me in close. I gasped and struggled against him, but he was too strong. I let him hold me tight, let him shove his tongue into my mouth, while he hands grabbed my ass and squeezed hard. I whimpered, loving the feel of his lips against mine, while at the same time knowing this couldn't happen. I was being weak, letting him in because he was hurting, because he needed to be comforted. But I couldn't do this.

  I finally pulled away. “No,” I whispered. “Not...not that.”

  “You know you want it.” He held me by my arms, his grip as strong as iron. “I've seen the way you look at me. I see the way you dress. Don't act like you don't want it.”

  I looked away. I wanted to say something, to reject him, but I couldn't find my voice. I think it was because I knew my words would be lies. “Please. Just stop.”

  He pulled away, looking at me with disappointment. I looked up at him, trembling. I knew this wasn't over yet.

  I could tell by the look in his eyes that he meant to have me. To claim me. To do whatever he pleased with me. And I knew this wouldn't end until he got what he wanted.

  * * *

  The funeral was three days later. It was a private event, at Matt's request. He didn't want a crowd filled with paparazzi and strangers. It was just me, my mother, and a few close friends of Matt's family.

  Afterwards, Matt, Mom, and I went to the reading of the will. I had little interest in hearing how Mr. Partridge distributed his money. I was sure I wasn't getting any, and it didn't really matter. My only concern was for Matt and the future of his company. He still planned to sell everything, but doing so first required him to inherit his father's controlling shares in the company. Without those, he wouldn't have any say in the company's future.

  The lawyer read through the will. It was worded simply, with only a few bits of legalese peppered throughout. It wasn't until he got to the end that my head shot up.

  “And so,” the lawyer read, “I hereby leave the sum total of my estate in its entirety to my son, Matthew William Partridge.”

  Mom and I both stared at Matt. Mom's jaw dropped open. “But,” she said. “But...wait. What about me? I'm his wife!”

  “I'm sorry, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “The will is quite clear. Though I must tell you it was written before your marriage to Mr. Partridge. I'd been in talks with him about amending the will, but he was still uncertain how to proceed.”

  “What does that mean?” Mom asked. She clutched at her purse until her fingers turned white. “What does it mean, he was uncertain?”

  “What I mean,” the lawyer said, folding his hands atop the desk, “is that while I know Mr. Partridge wanted to see you taken care of, he did not want you to end up with a controlling interest in
his media company. I mean no offense, ma'am, but the fact of the matter is, you were a career waitress before your marriage. Mr. Partridge couldn't give his company to you. It had to be passed to someone who understood how to manage it.”

  Mom looked at Matt. Her face was white. “But...but...no. I don't care about the company. What about my money?”

  “There is no money, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “Mr. Partridge hadn't yet finished setting up the trust fund he planned to leave to you. And by law, it doesn't matter what he 'planned' to do. It only matters what was written on paper. And the only completed copy of a will is this one.” He tapped the pages on his desk.

  Mom continued her protests, but Matt put a hand on her knee. “Don't worry, Mom,” he said. I winced when he called her “Mom,” knowing he didn't see her as a real mother. “I'll make sure you're taken care of.”

  “You will?” She looked up at him with desperate hope in her teary eyes.

  Matt looked right at me, looking me dead in the eye. “Yes. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

  A cold shiver worked its way up my spine.

  * * *

  “Because,” I whispered, licking my lips, “you're my stepbrother.”

  Matt stood towering over me, waiting for me to submit to his will. He'd told me what he wanted before he would help take care of my mother. He wanted me. My body, my willing submission to his desires. I'd said no at first. But then I'd realized what a desperate situation my mother was in. Before she'd married Mr. Partridge, she'd been deeply in debt and on the verge of losing her house. Once she moved into the mansion, she'd sold the house, quit her job, and left her old life behind. But now, if Matt decided to, he could kick her out of the mansion and she'd be homeless in the streets. I didn't know if he'd actually do it, or if this was all a game to him, but I knew that either way, I was a pawn in his scheme.

  Matt slipped his hand into my tight white blouse. I trembled as he touched my breast and pinched my nipple. I wanted to be angry with him to be disgusted that he was making me do this. But deep down, I knew this was what I wanted. I wanted to be used by him. To be dominated like this. To be forced into submission.