Claiming Cinderella: A Dirty Billionaire Fairy Tale

by Amy Brent

  “In my office, Ms. Taylor,” I barked in response to her polite greeting.

  She looked shaken as she walked through my door. “Mr. Cox, what can I help you with?”

  “Close the door,” I ordered, and she did.

  Once we were alone and away from prying eyes, I focused my gaze on her eyes as I took a few steps in her direction. Her breasts swayed with her rapid, nervous breaths and I took some comfort in the fact that despite whoever that was, Grace was still affected by me.

  I came to a stop right in front of her. I was close enough I could smell the coffee on her breath, the sweet scent of her perfume and the remains of his cologne. It made me sick.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” I asked unceremoniously.

  As expected, my question made Grace fidget, but she kept her eyes focused on mine. I imagined she would try to deflect the question or tell me off for being inappropriate, but she did neither. Instead, she squared her shoulders and grew a little taller in her spine.

  “Sort of,” she replied as a matter of fact.

  “Sort of? What does that mean?” I demanded.

  She frowned making it clear that it was none of my business. Unable to just let it go, I matched her gaze and raised a brow. She rolled her eyes and finally caved. “It means we’re just starting to see each other and I don’t know what we are yet. What I do know, Mr. Cox, is that he’s a man who kisses me in public and asks me to stay. Anything else?”

  I held her angry gaze and felt my cock twitch and swell in my pants. The insolence in her voice and words made me angry, but it was a sexy angry. It was the kind of angry that makes a man rip through a woman’s clothes and pound into her until she can no longer stand.

  That was exactly what I wanted to do to Grace. I wanted to show her that no matter how perfect that man was, he would never be me. The only problem was that after the shit poor way I had treated her, she might see that as a good thing. So, I simply took a deep breath to calm my body and shook my head.

  “You may go, Ms. Taylor.”

  And she went.

  Grace

  It took every ounce of strength in my body not to slam the door of Fletcher’s office shut. He more than deserved it, but I doubted my coworkers would see it that way and I wasn’t interested in being involved in office drama. So, I calmly walked to my desk and pretended to focus on my work.

  As much as I had enjoyed Fletcher’s jealous fit, I had to admit it was infuriating. I had given myself to him completely and, in return, he had tossed me out like he always did. He had hurt and humiliated me time and time again for no reason other than his vanity. There was no logical explanation why he’d feel entitled to demand answers out of me the way he did.

  Adding to my exasperation was the fact that despite what I had led Fletcher to believe, things between Harrington and me weren’t going too great. He was loving, warm, sexy and overall amazing, there was no doubt about that. However, my original reasoning that the lack of spark between us was something I could learn to deal with proved very false.

  Despite his seeming perfection and our amazing friendship, sexually Harrington bored me to death. Kissing him was about as exciting as kissing a rock, and every time he tried to take our make out sessions further than first base I literally cringed. His advances were just awkward and uncomfortable.

  Deep down, I knew I should break things off already, but he would only be in town for another week or so, and then we’d go our separate ways. Also, as selfish and awful as it may seem, I needed the distraction he provided.

  Hating myself for turning into a mini version of Fletcher, I shook my head and forced my mind to focus back on work. Thanks to a million preparations that had to be made for the upcoming charity launch and to some other projects our company was developing, I had a lot to keep me busy.

  I had no idea how much time had gone by when the ringing of my cell phone pulled me back to the real world. As I reached for the device, I noticed three things. The first was the time—a quarter past ten at night. The second was that, once again, Fletcher and I were the last two people in the office. And the third was that the caller was Harrington.

  With a heavy sigh, I picked up the call. “Hi, Harry.” After some protests from him, I had adapted his old nickname for something a little less embarrassing.

  “Hey, babe!” he greeted in his usual chipper tone and with the new pet name he had given me. “I came over to your place, and I’ve been waiting for like an hour, but you’re still not here. I thought we were going out tonight.”

  I closed my eyes and silently cursed. I had been so determined to find distractions to pull my brain away from Fletcher that I had completely forgotten about our date. It was official, I had turned into an asshole.

  “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry,” I started, doing my best to sound truly bummed out as I lied. “I got pulled into a bunch of meetings and had to run a million errands for my boss. I’m still at the office.”

  There was a pause, then he said, “Wow, that guy really works you to the bone, doesn’t he?”

  “Kind of,” I stated with a chuckle.

  After a moment, he asked, “Want me to wait?”

  God, no! “Thanks for offering, but I may be here a while.”

  Harrington sighed. “I had some cool plans for us tonight, and with my mom’s move this weekend I won’t be able to see you until Monday, so that sucks. But I get it. Your work is important, though, and your boss needs you, so I get it.”

  My body was filled with disappointment at his reaction. A part of me hoped that he would get angry. I knew it was crazy, but I wanted him to yell at me and be mad. I wanted anything that would create at least some friction and excitement between us, but it was hopeless. He was too good of a guy—which should be a good thing but wasn’t.

  “I’m sorry. We’ll go out for dinner on Monday; it’ll be my treat,” I said in my most honest tone and could almost hear his smile on the other side of the line.

  “Okay to dinner, but you’re not paying. I’m the guy, and I insist.”

  I laughed at his machoness but didn’t tease him about it. His gentleman side was one of my favorite things about him. “Deal. Happy moving.”

  He thanked me, and we hung up. Relieved to be done with that, I rested against my chair and looked across the hall to Fletcher’s office. It was eerily quiet, and he hadn’t called me once the entire afternoon, which was unusual. Worried about him, I quickly got up and crossed the hall.

  As per usual, I knocked three times on the times on the door and waited. When no reply came, I opened the door, and my heart started pounding.

  Fletcher lay on his desk with an empty bottle of whiskey by his side and one arm hanging off the side. His face was turned to the side and propped over this his computer’s keyboard. His eyes were closed, but he looked more dead than asleep. I quickly walked towards him.

  The smell of alcohol as I approached him was the strongest I had ever felt, and it made me sigh. I honestly hated his drinking habits; he was so much better than this. Annoyed and worried in equal measures, I brought my fingers to his neck to feel his pulse and realized he was alive—thank goodness.

  Less patient than usual, I nudged him a few times to see if he would wake up, but he didn’t. I did it again, a little harder this time, and still, his eyes didn’t open.

  After a heavy sigh, I picked up the phone and called his driver. I explained what was happening and asked him to come help me. As I waited. I closed Fletcher’s computer and then walked over to my desk to close mine and gather my things.

  “He’s in bad shape tonight?” Charlie asked as he walked out of the elevator.

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s an understatement. For a moment, I thought he was dead.”

  “Geez,” was all Charlie said as he walked into Fletcher’s office. I followed right after him.

  With practiced ease, the large man propped Fletcher into a sitting position and then brought him to his feet. His eyes fluttered open, and he squinted at Charlie.


  “She’s his, but she should be mine,” he mumbled not making any sense.

  “That sometimes happens, sir,” Charlie said in his gentle voice as he helped Fletcher out of the room.

  I grabbed his briefcase and followed them. Once we were in the elevator, F.letcher’s droopy eyes focused on me. He took a deep breath.

  “Gracie,” he said on an exhale. “I remember the last time we were in this elevator.”

  His slurred words were intelligible enough to make me blush. As my heart pounded and my lips curled into a smile, I looked at Charlie, and my face fell. What had happened between Fletcher and me in this elevator was a secret that had to remain buried, and his drunkenness was risking everything. To my surprise, however, instead of the reproach I expected to see in the driver’s eyes, I saw nothing but friendly solidarity. I smiled appreciatively at him.

  Together, we helped Fletcher to the car, and I climbed in the back with him. I didn’t want Charlie to have to manhandle Fletcher alone, and since I had the key to his apartment, I figured I’d help.

  It took fifteen minutes for us to reach Fletcher’s fancy apartment building and then five minutes more for Charlie to help me load him into the elevator. Once we were all settled, I told the driver I’d handle our boss so he could go home. I knew he had a brand-new wife and didn’t want him to miss even more time with her.

  By the time I finally opened the door to his penthouse, Fletcher was slurring nonsense, and his face was green. I took him straight to the bathroom and removed his jacket and tie before settling him on the floor in front of the toilet bowl. Seconds later, he started to hurl.

  For the next twenty minutes, I took care of him. I wet rags to put on his forehead, flushed the toilet so the smell wouldn’t make me sick as well, helped him brush his teeth and finally took off his clothes before I settled him into his bed. Exhausted but satisfied that he was safe and settled, I covered him with a blanket and turned to walk away.

  His cold hand grabbed my wrist, and I turned back around to look at him.

  “Grace?” His voice was rough.

  I raised a brow. “Yes?”

  “Why are you so nice to me?”

  The sadness and honesty in his question made me forget the anger I felt towards him and remember why I had fallen in love with him in the first place. Although I knew I shouldn’t, I ran a hand through his messy hair. His tresses felt soft between my fingers like they had on the night we made love.

  I sighed and replied honestly. “Because I know you’re not the asshole you try so hard to be.”

  A small and very drunken smile curled in his lips. I stood there waiting for him to let go of me so I could go home, but he continued to hold on to me like he was lost at sea and I was his lifeboat.

  “Stay with me, Gracie.”

  My heart ached with joy and fear. Knowing Fletcher as well as I did, I knew that if I accepted his request and stayed, the next morning would bring nothing but heartbreak for me. However, weak for him as I was, I knew I really had no choice. If he wanted me to stay, I would stay. It was as simple as that.

  With heavy breaths, I kicked off my shoes and lay next to him on the bed still in my work dress. Fletcher’s lips curled up into a smile, and he draped an arm around my waist. Within seconds, we were both asleep.

  * * *

  When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling was different, the sounds were different, and I wasn’t alone in bed. For a groggy second, I imagined it was Harrington with his arms around me and dread filled my entire body. But then, as my brain started to work, I remembered working late, seeing Fletcher sick on his desk and bringing him home. I also remembered him asking me to stay and my lips curled up into a smile.

  I turned my head to the side and saw Fletcher, laying shirtless as he smiled at me. He looked sleepy and hungover, but he was still the most handsome man I had ever seen.

  “Good morning,” I greeted.

  His smile widened. “It is. You wake up prettier than I imagined.”

  The idea that Fletcher had imagined me waking up made weird things to my stomach. The realization that he was being warm and sweet instead of sending me away as he usually did, made my lungs forget how to breathe.

  “So, do you,” I replied in the steadiest voice I could muster. “It’s really not fair. Someone who drank and puked as much as you did last night should wake up looking like death, but you seem perfect.”

  As soon as that last word was out of my mouth, I regretted saying it.

  “Perfect, hmm?” Fletcher asked with a smirk that made him look twenty years younger.

  I couldn’t help but smile back. I had no idea who this man was or what he had done to my asshole boss. All I knew was that I liked him—maybe even more than I liked regular Fletcher, and that was saying a bunch.

  With an eye roll, I replied, “Yeah, but just in the hair and the not puffy eyes. The rest is pretty ordinary.”

  My words made him laugh—laugh! It was the first time I had ever heard the sound in all the four years I had known him. It was a throaty sound that reverberated in my own chest. It was also not the kind of sound you’d expect out of a hungover person.

  “How come you’re happy? Your head should be pounding, and you should be whining about the mother of all hangovers right now,” I said without even noticing.

  Still with that smile on his lips, Fletcher shrugged and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. I held my breath.

  “My head is pounding, and I am extremely hungover. But I woke up and you were in my bed, Gracie.”

  He said those words as if they should make sense to me, but they didn’t. To me, everything about this moment was like a dream, one I wanted to last forever.

  In this dream, I was bold. The tenderness and desire in Fletcher’s eyes made me like that, and I felt like I could do anything. I could even lean forward and kiss him.

  And so, I did.

  I inched my body closer to his, held the back of his neck and pressed my mouth to his. The dream was so real I could feel the softness of his lips against mine and the grittiness of his stubble against the soft skin of my chin. It was heaven.

  Then, Fletcher’s hand reached to touch my hip, and his tongue stroked mine and the dream melted away into the most perfect reality.

  Grace

  This kiss wasn’t like any other we had ever shared before. It was soft, sensual and, most importantly, caring. For the first time, it was like Fletcher actually cared about who he was kissing and not just about what he was getting out it. At the same time, it gave me that feeling of a live wire touching my entire body. Every inch of me buzzed with delight and excitement.

  We kissed for long enough for my lips to feel puffy and my center to grow wet. Then, out of the blue, Fletcher broke the kiss and rolled away from me.

  I opened my eyes and looked at him with confusion and apprehension. After the sweet way he had just treated me and everything I had done for him the previous night, I simply couldn’t believe he would pull away and dismiss me like usual.

  My fear and hurt fueled that boldness I felt when I pulled him in for a kiss. With my eyes locked with his and my voice firm, I said, “No. You’re not pulling away or telling me to go. It’s not fair, and I won’t do it this time. I’ve told you to get your shit toget—”

  “And that’s exactly why I’m pulling away, Gracie,” he interrupted in a soft but stern tone. I closed my mouth, but my brows continued to frown as he explained, “I’ve spent the past few weeks getting my head in order. I’ve been cutting back on the drinking and—aside from last night’s bender, of course—I haven’t gotten drunk once since that night in my office. I’ve also kept my distance from you because although no man will ever want you the way I do, we both know you deserve way better than what I’ve given you, which is my point.

  “As much as I hated seeing you with that guy, you found someone who treats you right. It’s not fair of me to screw that up for you—no matter how fucking much I want
to.”

  Fletcher’s words made my heart pound and my head swim. Although I couldn’t ignore the truth in what he said or the fact that I had indeed found someone who treated me way better than he ever did, the elation I felt over the grand way in which he declared his desire for me overshadowed those things. For the first time, I felt like he was open to the idea of more with me and we might actually have a chance. That feeling made me open, honest and utterly fearless.

  Rolling closer to him in the bed, I placed a hand on Fletcher’s cheek. He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “You’re not screwing anything up,” I admitted in a soft tone. “Harrington is great—like prince charming kind of great, to be honest.” Fletcher’s jaw tensed at that confession, and I smiled as I added, “But he also bores me to death. Too much of a good thing, you know?”

  His eyes opened, and there was a new light in them. Tentatively, he touched the side of my hip as he held my gaze. “You’re still his, though.”

  I shook my head. “I’m seeing him casually, but we’re not serious or official. Besides, I’m no one’s. but my own.”

  The tiniest hint of a smile curled on Fletcher’s lips, and his fingers pressed a bit tighter against my skin. He moved in closer.

  “I’d like to make you mine,” he admitted in a low and sexy tone. “Would you accept that? Belonging to me, I mean.”

  My heart pounded inside my chest. I had no idea what he meant by that, but I didn’t care if it was simply a sexual request or something more serious and permanent. My answer to either of those scenarios was the same. If I was ever going to belong to someone in any capacity, it was going to be to Fletcher.

  “Yes,” I replied right away. “I’ll belong to you.”

  That hint of a smile turned into a full-blown grin as he pulled me closer still. Folding his arms around my midsection, Fletcher brought my hips flush with his so I could feel his arousal. Instinctively, my legs opened as much as my dress would allow to accommodate him.