The Glass Slipper Project

by Girard, Dara

  Isabella nodded. “But because you couldn’t get your first choice, you’ll settle for me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “But you have it all wrong,” she said bitterly. “You don’t have to marry me in order to marry a Duvall. I have two other sisters, in case you’ve forgotten. And they’re beautiful. We can have this conversation again if they decide not to have you. But that’s highly unlikely.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “Why not?” she challenged. “They have everything you want. The looks, the grace, the name.”

  “I don’t care. I want you.”

  She shook her head in disgust. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “I want to marry you.”

  She narrowed her gaze unsure. “Why?” She held up her hand. “No, I already know why. I’m safe. You’d never have to worry about a man running away with me.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then why? You have so many choices.”

  “For me there’s only one choice.”

  “I’m sorry about Gabby, but —”

  “This has nothing to do with Gabby.” His words were barely a whisper.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Then let me explain it to you.” His lips touched hers like a light breeze. “Do you understand now?”

  The feel of his lips against hers felt oddly flat and void of any emotion. “No.”

  He brushed her lips again.

  Isabella drew away, resting her hands on his chest. “Let’s go, Lex.” She moved to the side ready to walk around him.

  Alex seized her arm, his tone hard. “What have I told you about treating me like a boy?”

  Isabella yanked her arm free and glared at him, her voice tense with fury. “If you want me to stop treating you like a boy, then stop treating me like an old woman.”

  Alex stared at her as if she’d suddenly become a stranger. In a way she had. He’d placed gentle platonic kisses on her lips as though she were just an old friend. Someone he wanted to form a business partnership or bargain with not as a woman. He blocked her path when she moved again. “Izzy, I’m sorry.”

  She dismissed his apology with the wave of her hand. “It’s okay. Come on. No more games.”

  He rested his hands on her shoulders then tenderly slid them down her arms. “You’re right. No more games.”

  Without warning, Alex covered her mouth with such passion Isabella thought she would collapse under the smoldering assault.

  “Put your arms around me,” he said in a low husky command. When she didn’t do so fast enough, he did it for her, pressing her chest against his. She could feel her nipples hardening against the soft lace of her bra.

  He deepened the kiss and she shyly darted her tongue in his mouth. He groaned low in his throat, smothering her mouth with a wild, hungry demand until Isabella was pressed against the counter. He unzipped her dress then moved it from her shoulders and let it fall to her feet. “You’re so beautiful.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to reply, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed the embrace and pressed closer to him, suddenly she felt an odd sensation and pulled away. “I think you’re vibrating.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that. I’m certainly on fire.”

  She laughed. “I mean your phone. I think someone’s calling you.”

  He trailed kisses down her neck. “They can leave a message.” Soon the ringing stopped. “See.”

  But then the home phone rang. “You should probably get that.”

  “No.”

  Velma’s voice came over the intercom. “Alex, where are you? People are beginning to ask questions.”

  He broke away and swore. “I forgot about the party.”

  Isabella pulled up her dress then turned to him. “Please zip me up before you go.”

  He started to then stopped. “Let’s pretend the zipper’s stuck. It can miraculously fix itself in five minutes.”

  “What could we possibly do in five minutes?”

  Alex stared at her speechless, very tempted to show her but decided against it. He knew that five minutes with her wouldn’t be enough anyway. “Forget it.” He zipped her up.

  They dashed out the door and raced to his truck. He was about to get in the driver’s seat when he noticed a large yellow blossom had fallen on the hood of his truck. He picked it up then looked at Isabella and held it out to her. “Will you marry me?”

  She took it and put it in her hair. Then she blew him a kiss and smiled. “Yes.”

  Chapter 17

  A week later, Isabella stared at her reflection in the mirror with doubts. “Perhaps this isn’t a good idea,” she said.

  “It’s a perfect idea and you’re going to marry Alex tonight if I have to force you,” Mariella said, fixing Isabella’s tiara. “I will not let you change your mind. This plan has to work.”

  “Forget about your plan. What about me?”

  “What about you? Your life is perfect now. You’re marrying the man you love and he’s rich.”

  “But I’m not sure he loves me.”

  “Don’t worry about the love thing. It’s the legal contract that you want. His love won’t matter after a few years.”

  Isabella didn’t believe her but decided not to argue. She swatted Mariella’s hand away from the tiara. “I don’t need this.”

  “You’re going to wear it,” she said adjusting the headdress made of Austrian crystals and pearls. She eyed Isabella’s simple white gown with regret. “Too bad you couldn’t wear the dress, too.”

  Isabella disagreed. The tiara was enough of a reminder that she was Gabby’s last minute replacement; it would have been far too humiliating to have had to wear her dress also. Isabella glanced at the closed door. “At least let me talk to Daniella,” she said remembering that her sister was standing outside the door because Mariella had barred her entry.

  “You’re not talking to anyone until this wedding is over.”

  Downstairs in the living room Velma and Sophia sat and watched Alex walk around the room checking his watch every two minutes.

  Sophia grinned. “You’re nervous.”

  Alex tugged on his watchband then the sleeve of his tuxedo. “I’m not nervous.”

  “Yes you are,” she said in a singsongy voice. “Are you afraid that in the throes of passion she’ll look up at you and remember that she used to wipe your nose when you were a kid?”

  He glanced at his watch again. Velma nudged her and whispered. “Leave him alone.”

  Sophia was quiet a moment, but couldn’t resist teasing him again. “Or maybe she’ll remember how she used to dry your tears.”

  Velma nudged her harder. “That’s enough.”

  Her grin widened into a malicious smile. “Didn’t she used to change your diaper?”

  “Sophia that’s enough. Go upstairs and find Daniella.”

  Sophia reluctantly disappeared around the corner then peeked her head back inside the room and said, “You’re nervous.”

  Alex spun around. “I’m not nervous.”

  She giggled then left.

  Alex turned to his mother. “I’m not nervous.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Velma said calmly. “But are you sure that you know what you’re doing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you promise to be a good husband to her?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  Velma smiled and shook her head. “No, don’t be casual about it.” She stood in front of him and said in a low voice. “I think we may be the only two people who know you’re not marrying Isabella out of pity or to save face. Everyone else thinks it’s the opposite, but I hope that I raised a son who will follow his vows. A son who will treat his wife with respect. Isabella has enough people who pity her. I don’t want you to give them another reason. Your father was an example of a bad husband. I want you to promise me that you’ll be a good one.”

  He stared back
at her feeling the seriousness of her words. “I promise.”

  She patted him on the shoulder. “Good. Now let me go see if the minister has arrived.”

  Under a pink and purple sky and in the presence of a stunned audience, Alex and Isabella became husband and wife.

  After the minister made the announcement, Mariella grinned proudly, glad that her plan had worked. Then she heard a flash and turned.

  “Excuse me,” the man behind the camera said. “Have you ever thought of modeling?”

  She lifted a brow. “Who wants to know?”

  He handed her his card. “I’m a freelance photographer, but I’m also a scout for the Tristan Modeling Agency in the City. Would you mind if I sent them your picture?”

  She wrapped her arm around his. “No, tell me more.”

  Less than a week later, Daniella and Sophia flew off to Europe, Mariella signed a lucrative modeling contract and was whisked away into the city, and Isabella moved back into the main house with Alex. Though Velma had helped her pack, she hadn’t been able to convince the older woman to move back with them.

  “I’d just be in the way.”

  “But Velma, you wouldn’t. There’s plenty of room.”

  She sent Isabella a knowing look. “Not when you’re newlyweds.”

  Isabella carefully folded a blouse, heat touching her cheeks. “It’s not like that.”

  “It will be.”

  “I didn’t expect things to happen this way.” She looked at Nicodemus prowling his crate in the corner. Ms. Timmons had dropped him off two days before they traveled. “I almost wonder how it all happened.”

  “Life doesn’t always go as planned, but you have to make the best of it.” She zipped up Isabella’s suitcase. “You’re all ready to go.” They each grabbed a bag and Isabella picked up Nicodemus’s carrier and headed outside.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here?” Isabella asked as they walked toward the main house.

  “I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “But Alex bought the house for you.”

  “I’ve grown to love the cottage and Alex will fix it up for me. I’ll visit. A house can’t have two mistresses.”

  Isabella stopped and stared at it. It stood tall, proud and beautiful in the bright afternoon. A part of her still detested it and feared that her feelings would never change no matter how much she loved Alex. “A part of me is afraid that I can’t measure up. He and everyone else will expect me to be as my mother was.”

  “Just be yourself, Isabella. I know you’ll do just fine.” They walked up the front steps together then Velma set her bag down. She kissed her on the cheek. “I know you will.”

  For a long moment, Isabella watched Velma walk away then she turned to the door ready to face the inevitable. She knocked on the door. Alex opened it as though he’d been waiting. She jumped back startled.

  “Let me help you,” he said, grabbing her bags.

  “Thank you.” She followed him inside then stopped, astonished. She was first struck by all the exposed wood trimmings around the doors, windows and walls. Alex and his crew had painstakingly taken off layers of paint to reveal the original dark oak. In addition, with the use of glass blocks and strategically placed dome shaped skylights, the natural lighting immediately made the place appear bigger. It did not look or feel like the house they had lived in.

  Alex studied her. “Would you like a tour or do you want to settle in first?”

  “A tour would be nice.”

  Isabella did not close her mouth as Alex showed her all of the changes that had been made. Two stained glass windows had been added to the living room and one of the walls removed. The old fireplace had been renovated to reveal intricate woodworking detail, and colored slates replaced the ordinary white wood frame. In the dining room, a platform ceiling had been added along with an antique crystal chandelier. Off to the side, where her father’s office had been, floor to ceiling bookcases had been refinished, revealing the light pinewood and designer trim around the ceiling.

  All of the bathrooms were now installed with original antique finishing, free-standing bathtubs with bronze claw feet and newly installed circular showers and separate commodes.

  Her favorite room was the conservatory. Alex had skillfully taken what had been the large family room on the main floor and totally transformed it. He had installed an assortment of built-in shelving, wood molding and exquisitely designed wall lamps. And in the middle of the room, sat a grand piano graciously surrounded by a collection of thin wrought-iron windows.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said at last.

  “We can make new memories here,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, wondering if new ones could erase the old ones imprinted on her heart.

  Isabella unpacked her bags and looked around the master bedroom. She’d released Nicodemus and he had disappeared somewhere downstairs. It was evident that Alex had the room decorated with Gabby in mind, which depressed her. The walls were painted a soft lime-green — one of Gabby’s favorite colors — with matching bedcovering and curtains. Every day would be a reminder that she was her sister’s replacement. She was Alex’s last desperate choice to marry a Duvall. Every day she would wake up and remember that she wasn’t supposed to be here, that she was meant to be somewhere else.

  Isabella brushed the thought aside; nothing could be done about it now. She would make small changes so that in time the room would feel like her own. If she was to be the new mistress of the house she would have to act like it. Isabella jumped when she heard a bell ringing. Dinner was ready. She gathered her courage then headed downstairs to eat with her new husband.

  He was coming to get her and Isabella halted on the stairs when she saw him. “Where are you going?” she asked looking at his three-piece suit.

  “To dinner.”

  “With whom?”

  “With you.”

  She frowned confused. “I thought we were eating in.”

  “We are. The cook just left.”

  She covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “You dressed up to eat dinner at home?”

  “Yes, I thought rich people did that.”

  “Maybe some, but not like that. And we certainly didn’t.”

  “I remember that your father always looked polished.” He scowled. “What’s so funny?”

  She bit her lip.

  He surveyed himself. “Do you think I’m over-dressed?”

  Isabella managed to control her laughter, descended several steps and said, “Let me help you. First you don’t need the jacket.” She pulled it off and hung it over the railing. “Or the waistcoat.” She unbuttoned it then stripped it off also. “And you can loosen your shirt.” She undid one button on his shirt then stopped when she realized what she was doing.

  “Continue,” he challenged. “I’m beginning to enjoy myself.”

  She jerked her hand away. “No, I think you’re all right now. There’s nothing else to remove.”

  Alex clicked his tongue in disappointment and rested a foot on the step behind her. “Aren’t you even curious?”

  “About what?”

  “Whether I wear an undershirt.”

  “I never thought about it.”

  He brushed his knuckles against the line of her jaw. “You’re not even a little curious about me?” His gaze swept her. “Because I’m curious about you.” He gently removed her cardigan. “Very curious.” His hands moved to the front of her blouse and undid her buttons in swift deliberate movements and soon her blouse fell away. Tingles raced up her arms spreading like wildfire as his hand skimmed down her bare arm. “It’s your turn now,” he whispered.

  Her voice came out in a breathless rush. “My turn to do what?”

  “To be curious.” He took her hand and rested it on the front of his shirt. “Don’t be shy.”

  “I’m not shy.”

  “Neither am I.”

  At first she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and twice she glanced up at
him to see if he was silently laughing at her. But he wasn’t. He continued to watch her with an electrifying intensity that made her more eager to breakdown the barriers between them. Once she had unbuttoned his shirt she bit her lip then touched the contours of his chest with her fingers as she’d once imagined doing. “You don’t wear an undershirt.”

  “No.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Show me how glad,” he said in a thick, husky voice.

  Isabella moistened her lips then pressed them against his bare chest. “This glad.” She moved down to his stomach and kissed him there, causing his muscles to constrict. “And this glad.” She moved back up and kissed his nipple. “And this glad.” Isabella reached up and held Alex’s face in her hands, staring at his full lips. “I’m glad that I married you.” She kissed his mouth expecting the wild sensations of when they’d kissed before. But this time was different. Somehow his mouth tasted sweeter, softer and the feel of his lips made her senses swirl.

  Alex didn’t have to say anything, his persuasive mouth made that point clear. He brought her close and the glorious feel of his bare flesh against hers aroused the sensitive area between her legs and made it grow moist with liquid heat. She skimmed her hands over his defined chest muscles. “Our dinner will definitely be getting cold.”

  “Who cares?”

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  He laughed. “I am.” He cupped her bottom, pressing the evidence of his desire against her. “Can’t you tell?”

  “We shouldn’t do this now.” She said the words, but they held no meaning. She didn’t want to be anywhere else, but in his arms, feeling his rough, calloused fingers sliding over the contours of her bare skin as though he were examining a fine antique.

  “But I want to.”

  She pressed her lips in the curve of his neck then gently bit down in playful warning. “Didn’t anyone teach you to listen to your elders?”

  “I’m listening.” He took one of her breasts in his hands and rubbed his thumb across her nipple. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “What you’re doing right now is nice.”