Claiming Cinderella: A Dirty Billionaire Fairy Tale

by Amy Brent

  “Oh, my gosh! Harrington ‘Hairy’ Jones. How long has it been?” I asked in an upbeat tone.

  He chuckled. “Eight years and four months, which is far too long but somehow still not long enough for you to forget that unfortunate nickname.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not my fault. An afro that big can never be forgotten. It’s something that just stays with you, ya know?”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t. I spent the past eight years trying very hard to forget all about that bird’s nest, and I’m completely over it now.”

  Once more, I laughed. Unlike some people I worked for, Harrington never failed to lift my spirits. It was one of the many things I had missed about him.

  “It’s great to hear from you. How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing pretty good, actually,” he said in his signature tone. “And I’m in town. My mom just sold her house, and I’ll be here for a few weeks to help her move. I was wondering if you’d like to meet up?”

  My eyes rounded and the awful feeling of my hangover lifted a little. “Of course, I do. Are you free tonight?”

  He laughed at my enthusiasm and said he was. We made plans to meet at around seven at this a new pub called Rat and Parrot. It was a trendy place close to my apartment I had been dying to go.

  With a new pep in my step and with my worries about Fletcher almost forgotten, I made my way to my apartment. Once there, I took a quick nap to get rid of the rest of my hangover and then started getting ready to meet Harrison.

  Because he was one of those ridiculously good looking men, I put some effort into my look. I smoked out my eyes, put on a bright lipstick, high heels and a cute dress that was flattering but not too form fitting—I didn’t want to give my old friend the wrong idea, after all.

  I arrived at the pub at exactly seven and saw his smiling face right away. I couldn’t help but grin back as I walked through the dim lit corridors towards his table at the back. Boy Harrington had been good looking, but man Harrington—with his buzzed head and broad shoulders—was something out of a fashion magazine ad.

  He stood up and hugged me. He smelled like Tabaco and cologne, a combination that would usually be nasty but worked well on him.

  “Holy shiz . . . You grew up good, Hairy.”

  Laughing, he released me and kissed my cheek. “So did you, Gracie.”

  The nickname gave me mixed feelings. On one side, it brought back so memories of our past together, and on the other made me cringe with thoughts of the other man who called me that.

  “I was thinking beers and whatever fried platter they have. You in?” Harrington asked.

  “As long as there are wings involved, I say hell yes.”

  With a pitcher of beer and a ton of deliciously greasy food in front of us, we spent time catching up. The conversation flowed freely between us as it always did. We talked about college and work, we remembered the past and discussed our plans for the future. All in all, I was super proud of the man my old friend had become. Aside from his nasty smoking habit, he had grown into a pretty decent guy.

  The food was mostly over, and we were half-way through our second pitcher when Harrington started to fidget in his seat. He was never much of fidgeter, so I narrowed my eyes at him which made him laugh.

  He ran a hand through his barely there hair and shrugged. “I guess there’s no subtle way of asking this, so here it comes . . . Single or taken?”

  I laughed through the rim of my beer mug. It was clear that Harrington was flirting and though he was doing a great job at it, I couldn’t help but feel weird. We had been platonic friends for ages, and the idea he would be interested in me like that was funny to my tipsy self.

  “Is the question or my interest funny?” he asked with the tiniest bit of hurt in his voice.

  Feeling like a jerk for making him feel like that, I immediately stopped laughing.

  “Neither,” I said honestly. “I’m laughing because a nun couldn’t be more single. I recently got dumped by a one-night stand guy,” I added, not specifying just how recently the dumping had happened. “I never knew that was even possible.”

  Harrington visibly relaxed and laughed as well. “I didn’t either, which is just one more proof that whoever the guy was, he’s an idiot.”

  My cheeks blushed at the clear compliment. I had never thought about Harrington as anything other than a good friend, but his sweetness compared to Fletcher’s assholeness made my heart warm up to him—at least a little.

  “What about you? Any lucky Bostonian snatched you?”

  He leaned over the table and narrowed his eyes as he held my gaze. “C’mon, Gracie. You know I wouldn’t be flirting with you if that was the case.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “People change.”

  “Not that much,” he assured me.

  There was a long moment of silence but, to my surprise, it wasn’t at all awkward. Quite the contrary actually. I was perfectly content sitting across from my flirty old best friend. Deep down, I knew my delight at this moment had less to do with Harrington than with the fact that after feeling like two-day old garbage this morning, I was finally feeling beautiful and wanted. It was a magical feeling.

  Tipsy and too elated to think, I blurted out, “I’m glad, then.”

  With that discussion behind us, we moved on to other, non-flirtatious subjects and the night went on great. Unwilling to deal with another hangover, I switched from beers to diet cokes as we talked and laughed as we had back in high school.

  By the time I started to yawn, and Harrington asked for the check, I realized just how awesome it was to have the attention of someone who actually cared. It made me wonder how I could have ever wasted my time with a selfish man like Fletcher. I couldn’t deny that thoughts of him and our night together still made my heart skip several beats, but I now knew that I deserved better than what he had to offer. I deserved to be treated right by a man who saw me as something more than just a cheap lay, and though Harrington didn’t make my skin sizzle and my heart pump as Fletcher did, I wondered if he could be that man for me.

  “I loved seeing you again,” I told him as we walked out of the pub.

  He gave me one of his million dollar smiles and hailed a cab for me. “I did too, Gracie. And I hope to see more of you while I’m in town.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’d like that as well.”

  A car parked beside us, and we both knew our time was over. His deep brown eyes flickered to my lips, making his intentions very clear. For a moment, I felt panicky.

  In all our years of friendship, I had never envisioned myself kissing Harrington. He had never given me goosebumps, sweaty palms or any of the exciting emotions that led to kissing.. But he was a good man, a steady man, a man I knew I could count on and who made me feel beautiful and happy. Those things, I decided, were more important than fireworks and butterflies, and so I closed my eyes and welcomed his lips into mine.

  The kiss was warm, just like Harrington, and he was gentle. There was absolutely nothing bad or strange about the kiss, but there was nothing special either. I didn’t know if it was because it wasn’t a case of forbidden fruit, but I honestly didn’t care. The kiss was nice enough, and Harrington was great, and I was determined to enjoy the moment.

  “Are we going, or what?” the cab driver called from inside the car, forcing us to break the kiss.

  I pulled away from him and giggled. “I have to go.”

  Harrington sighed and nodded as he opened the door for me. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” I assured him as the car drove away.

  Looking out of the window, I waved at him until he was out of sight. Then, I rested against my seat and closed my eyes. What the hell am I doing?

  I wasn’t leading him on because I genuinely liked our time together, but I wasn't exactly honest either. He was a great person and didn’t deserve to be the rebound. My dubious attitude towards him made me feel awfully like Fletcher, and I
felt dirty as a result. I didn’t want to cause my oldest friend the kind of pain my boss had inflicted upon me, but there was a part of me that desperately needed the attention and desire I saw in Harrington’s eyes.

  Hoping to appease my mind, I decided to take things slowly but still give whatever this thing between us was a real shot. Yes, there was no spark, and I was in love with another, but I knew those things could change. There was no other option, after all.

  Fletcher

  The weekend had provided me plenty of time to regret every decision I had made, from sleeping with Grace to telling her I would keep things strictly professional between us. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t push her out of my mind. Whiskey hadn’t help, fucking Charlotte had been useless, and even exercise did shit to flush the taste of Grace’s mouth and the feel of her skin from my mind. I was stuck between wanting her and needing to keep the control I had fought so hard to achieve over my life.

  For that reason, stepping into the office on Monday morning had been difficult. To my surprise, although Grace had been more reserved around me, she continued to be kind, attentive and efficient as usual. It was as if nothing at all had happened between us and seeing her that unaffected had annoyed the living crap out me. Nevertheless, as promised, I did everything I could to keep our interactions professional and proper.

  Every once in a while, however, I would sit at my desk and simply watch her. I’d admire the sexy way her hips moved as she walked, the way she always tucked the left side of her hair behind her ear but left the right side hanging loose, and the way the skin on the bridge of her nose crinkled when she laughed.

  Those little things I had never noticed about her made me that much more attracted to her and that much more frustrated that I couldn’t just invite her out for a nice dinner and get to know her better as a typical man would. As the days and weeks went by, that frustration grew into an almost insane jealousy. In my mind, every man was someone who could have her when I couldn’t, and it made me grumpy and even more short-tempered than usual.

  That new behavior got completely out of hand on a Friday morning, when I walked into the lobby and bumped into a young man who was on his way out. His eyes were looking at his cell phone, and because of that, I dropped the stack of papers I was carrying, which scattered on the floor. I swore under my breath.

  “I’m so sorry, sir,” the man said and immediately dropped to his knees to help me gather my things.

  Even on his knees, he had a confidence about him that was undeniable. Aside from his youth and reasonably good looks, I seriously couldn’t understand what he had to be so confident about. His clothes looked cheap, his phone was outdated, and he screamed middle class. Still, his politeness and good boy smile told me he was the kind of man who could have an actual chance with Grace, and for that alone I immediately disliked him.

  After my papers had been all gathered and placed in my hands, I huffed and walked away without even thanking the boy. From the corner of my eyes, I saw his reproachful look at my lack of gratitude, but I just rolled my eyes and kept walking. He had bumped into me and caused me to be late, I owned him no recognition for cleaning the mess he had made.

  Once I finally reached the office, I was in a seriously bad mood. Grace waited for me with a morning coffee—milk and sugar, my non-hangover coffee, because she could always tell when I was hungover and when I wasn’t. She wore a mustard dress that complimented her chocolate skin to perfection and made her look like she was glowing. Her hair was a little shorter than usual and styled in soft waves that made her look even classier.

  “Morning, Mr. Cox.”

  I groaned internally at her greeting. I was always Mr. Cox to her now. Never Fletcher. With a straight face, she handed me my messages and took the messy file from my hands.

  “Some guy bumped into me on my way up, and the file fell on the floor. The pages are all out of order.”

  She nodded. “That’s okay, sir. I’ll organize it.” I thanked her and started walking toward my office. I was almost at the door when she added, “Don’t forget that you have a lunch meeting with Mr. Hawthorne. I’ve made reservations at Paolo’s for noon and confirmed it with his assistant.”

  Dammit. The last thing I wanted in the foul mood I was in was to have to deal with Hawthorne and his stinginess towards poor kids. Out of all the things I had worked for in my life, this charity was the one I was proudest of. I knew what it was like to start at the bottom and how hard it was to succeed when the deck was stacked against you. I felt like it was my obligation to make it a little easier for others in the same position, but unfortunately, I couldn’t do it all on my own.

  Not bothering to close my office’s door, I slammed my coffee cup over my desk hard enough to spill some of its contents. A moment later, Grace’s voice echoed through the room.

  “Are you alright, sir?” she asked, all polite and distant.

  The honest answer to her question was a big, fat no. I was not alright. In fact, I was awful. I was frustrated—both mentally and sexually—since I couldn’t stop wanting her even thought I couldn’t have her. I was upset that my dream life hadn’t really turned out as great I had imagined it. And, I was acting crazy with jealousy for no reason whatsoever. My life was a mess, but I couldn’t tell her that.

  Instead, I sighed yet another wave of frustration and, in a sharp tone, replied, “Yes, I’m fine. Now, please close the door, Ms. Taylor.”

  Naturally, she took my rude dismissal personally and left my office with that hurt look I was all too familiar with. Seeing it added yet another layer of suck to my already terrible day. I rested against my chair and closed my eyes as I tried to calm my mind.

  Once I opened them again, my gaze instantly went to the liquor cabinet at the corner. For a second, I considering walking toward it and grabbing three fingers of scotch but quickly decided against it. After what had happened with Stella, I had decided to cut back on my drinking and didn’t want to slip up. So, I took a deep breath and focused on work.

  For the next few hours, I focused on papers and projects. I signed a truckload of contracts and checks, made a handful of phone calls and answered too many emails to count. The only thing that forced me to stop working were the three knocks on my door.

  I looked up from my computer and invited whoever was at the door to come in. The door opened, and Grace stood at the threshold. Involuntarily, I smiled.

  “What do you need, Grace?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, sir. Just want to let you know it’s almost noon. Would you like me to call your driver to take you to the restaurant?”

  Hawthorne, I remembered and nodded. “Yes, please let Charlie know I’ll be right down.” She smiled and nodded, but didn’t leave. I raised a brow, “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice a little uncomfortable. “Since you won’t be at the office for a little while, I was wondering if it was okay for me to take a longer lunch break.”

  The part of me that wanted to possess her wanted to ask where she was going and why she wanted a longer lunch break, but the sane part of me knew it wasn’t any of my business. She worked harder than anyone, and if she wanted to take a few extra minutes to relax, she was entitled.

  “It’s fine. Just keep your phone on hand in case I need you.”

  She smiled a real smile at me for the first time since that dreaded morning at the café and thanked me before exiting the room. Once she was gone, I finished gathering my things for my meeting and then left the room as well.

  As I walked past Grace’s desk, I saw that her gathering her things while on the phone. She looked happy and peaceful. It was a beautiful sight, and once more I was jealous of whoever managed to make her look like that. Knowing I shouldn’t pay attention to those kinds of thoughts, I shook my head and continued to walk towards the elevator.

  Within seconds I was out of the building and inside my car. The traffic was heavy and my driver, Charlie, was having a hard time pulling out of the curb. Bored, I looked
out of the window and saw Grace walking out of the building. She was smiling, and the skirt of her mustard dress swayed around her legs in the breeze.

  She looked gorgeous and, just for a moment, my resolve to keep our relationship professional wavered. I couldn’t help but imagine myself calling her and blowing Hawthorne off so I could take her home and fuck her in every room of my apartment. The idea alone excited me and breathed life into my cock.

  My finger reached down to the control panel at my door, and I started rolling down the window to call her and made my fantasy a reality. However, just as the glass began to lower, I saw a smile crack on her lips as her arm reached forward to hug someone. My gaze followed where hers were and that’s when I saw him, the confident, middle-class boy who had made a mess of my file this morning.

  The blood in my .veins boiled as I saw his chocolate skin glistening in the sunlight and his perfect smile widening at Grace—my Gracie. Once they were close enough, he folded his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he brought his mouth to kiss hers.

  At that agonizing moment, the traffic cleared and the car started moving, but my eyes stayed glued to the young couple kissing. The scene was mesmerizing in the worst possible way. I wanted to jump out of the car and punch that guy’s perfect teeth in. I wanted to grab Grace, throw her over my shoulder and take her away. I wanted to tell her that I wanted her to be mine despite people’s opinions, but I didn’t do any of those things. I just sat there, in my luxury sedan, and let my chauffeur drive me away from that horrible scene.

  * * *

  My lunch meeting with Hawthorne lasted just over two hours. In that time, I drank an entire bottle of wine, obsessed about Grace and that guy, and finally convinced Hawthorne to stop annoying me and go through with our charity. As I saw it, it was a productive meeting.

  By the time I arrived back at the office, Grace was already back at her desk, sipping a Starbucks coffee and smiling like life was great. The wine mixed with my recently acquired knowledge over her personal life made me unfiltered and so angry.