Secrets of Cinderella's Awakening

by Sharon Kendrick

  Leon tugged off his tie and flung it to the ground as if it were choking him. And in a way, it was. Because her words had taken him hurtling right back to his own childhood. To the mother who had always appeared startled whenever he caught her taking tablets, explaining them away by saying she had a headache. A mother who told him she much preferred the shiny new wig to her own wispy hair—though he’d never really understood until afterwards why all those gloriously thick black locks had fallen out so suddenly. Not one honest answer had she given to any of his questions and he’d felt sidelined. As if he didn’t count enough to be told the truth. As if he didn’t matter. And that feeling had stayed with him, lying dormant inside him—always ready to rise to the surface if someone was deliberately dishonest.

  ‘You didn’t tell me the truth, Marnie,’ he repeated quietly. ‘And I’m afraid that’s a deal-breaker for me.’

  He saw all the colour leach from her face and thought the clipped finality of his final statement would be enough to send her running from the room, saving them face and saving them both from any more soul-bearing or heartache. And didn’t he want that? Wouldn’t that have made it—not easy—but easier for them both? But she didn’t go. She just stood her ground like an immovable force. Dignified and proud, despite the sloppy clothes and her diminutive height, as she tilted a mulish face at him.

  ‘And being used is a deal-breaker for me!’ she hissed back.

  Mutual mud-slinging was the last thing he wanted to engage in right now but he couldn’t let her furious accusation pass. ‘Being used?’ he verified icily. ‘And just how did I do that?’

  ‘You used me to upstage your father on his wedding day!’

  ‘You believe all that rubbish you read on the website?’

  ‘Yes! Because that’s what happened! I was there, remember? You must have realised that everyone was watching you, because they’d been watching you from the moment we arrived. What better way to pay your father back than by stealing all his thunder? By showcasing your own youth and vitality in contrast with a man in his declining years?’ She drew in a deep breath and he could see a tiny pulse hammering away at her temple, close to the moonlight sheen of her hair. ‘You told me you were angry with him. Angry that he’d duped you into attending a wedding you secretly disapproved of, but you did it because you were hoping for some kind of closure and reconciliation, which he failed to provide. You don’t want or need his fortune, but the fact that he’s doling it out to other people must have hurt you more than you care to admit, because that’s human nature.’

  Her words faded away but Leon shook his head. ‘You can’t possibly stop now, Marnie,’ he said grimly. ‘Not when this is just starting to get interesting.’

  She stared at him and he could see the hurt in her eyes, but was able to steel his heart against it because the slow pulse of anger in his blood was dominating everything.

  ‘You didn’t stop to think how all this might impact on me, did you, Leon?’ she questioned quietly. ‘I mean, you were never demonstrative with me before, were you? You never so much as held my hand or kissed me in public and I was okay with that because I sensed that was the sort of man you were. Yet suddenly, you’re all over me. I couldn’t believe the way you were acting on the dance floor.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘Neither could I.’

  ‘So why do it?’

  It was a question he wished she hadn’t asked. A question he was under no obligation to answer. But he was aware that he couldn’t chastise her for refusing to tell the truth and then do the same thing himself. ‘Because I was going to suggest taking our relationship to the next level,’ he said, his words deliberately flat, as if that would take the emotional sting out of them. ‘I thought I was in love with you.’

  Surely that was the key in getting her to leave. The deliberate use of the past tense, indicating he felt that way no longer. Surely she would be too proud to want him to witness the tears which were currently filling her beautiful grey eyes. But no. It seemed he had underestimated her tenacity, for she drew her shoulders back as if she were squaring up to him in a boxing ring.

  ‘Ah, so now I understand,’ she said. ‘You didn’t want to fall in love, did you? Not with me and not with anyone. You told me that right from the start. But emotions are messy things, aren’t they, Leon? Sometimes they creep up on you when you’re least expecting them. So I imagine finding out about my hidden past must have come as a huge relief to you. It gave you all the ammunition you needed to shoot our relationship down in flames. You could classify my behaviour as an abuse of trust when the reality is that it presented you with a handy get-out clause from having to commit.’

  She sucked in a shuddering breath. ‘And you want to know something, Leon?’ she continued. ‘I understand. In a way, I almost expected it. I mean, who would ever want to get involved with a woman like me? I know I’m not good enough. Don’t you think I’ve always known that? But please don’t make out that I’m the only one of us who resorted to subterfuge when it suited them!’

  ‘Marnie—’

  ‘No!’ She dabbed a furious fist against each wet eye before fixing him with a glare. ‘You make a big deal about me keeping parts of my life secret, but didn’t you do exactly the same when we first met? Pretending to be some boho biker, rather than a billionaire tycoon?’

  ‘You know why I did that,’ he growled.

  ‘I know what you told me. That you didn’t want people muscling in on you and knowing how rich you are and that’s why you keep a beaten-up old car in every place where you have a home. You had your reasons, Leon, just like I had mine. Do you really think yours are somehow more valid because you’re so powerful?’

  ‘You’re twisting this, Marnie.’

  ‘No. I’m telling you how I feel, but it’s done now. Don’t worry. I get it. It’s over. It should never really have begun. And I’m out of here.’

  She moved towards the door and instantly he slid from the desk. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘It is my business if you’re being hounded by journalists because of your association with me.’

  ‘But I live in Acton and nobody knows that.’ She gave a laugh which was edged with hysteria. ‘Because I am a nobody!’

  ‘Don’t be so naïve, Marnie,’ he snapped. ‘Finding out where you live will be a piece of cake and if you try to use public transport you’ll be a target. My driver will take you anywhere you need to go. If you like, I can send someone from my security team to keep their eye on you. And I’ll leave a credit card on the side. Use it for whatever you need.’

  She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Have you even listened to a word I’ve been saying?’ she demanded. ‘Do you think that’s the answer to everything—that you can just buy your way out of things, when the going gets tough? I don’t want your damned money, Leon, and I don’t want your damned driver—or your security team!’

  And Leon was left with nothing but the sound of loud slamming as she stormed her way out of his office.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT WAS ACTUALLY quite easy to ‘disappear’.

  Marnie realised she’d spent most of her working life influenced by the faint fear of not knowing what the future held. She’d been saving for that mythical rainy day for a very long time, which meant she’d accumulated quite a lot of cash which she could now use.

  Because that rainy day had arrived.

  Accompanied by her sister, she had left London—sneaking away as dawn was breaking over the city, with Pansy driving a borrowed and rather fancy car, although refusing to say whose car it was—‘I’ll tell you later...’

  Hair Heaven had told her to take as much time as she needed and, at very short notice, Marnie had found a tiny cottage to rent on the edge of the Yorkshire Moors—chosen mostly because it reminded her of one of her favourite books from childhood and seemed to fit wi
th the bleak mood she was trying to hide from her sister.

  ‘It’s good to be able to help you for a change,’ Pansy said, once they’d managed to push open the rather stiff front door and she’d placed a steaming mug of tea in front of Marnie, as though she were recovering from some kind of sickness.

  Which in a way, Marnie guessed, she was. There was obviously a reason why the expression lovesick had come about—and she was certainly portraying all the symptoms of it. She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about the man who had stolen her heart and left her wondering how she was ever going to get it back.

  Pansy waved a packet of chocolate biscuits in front of her but Marnie shook her head. ‘I won’t, thanks.’

  ‘You should. You’re looking peaky,’ said Pansy disapprovingly.

  ‘Unlike you,’ said Marnie, eyeing her sister.

  It was true. Pansy was positively glowing and had toned down the sequins and too-tight tops. She’d also had her hair cut so that it swung in a sleek blonde bob around her shoulders, instead of falling to just above her bottom in that retro hippie style. ‘Why didn’t you ask me to cut your hair for you?’ she added suspiciously.

  ‘You were too busy jetting off in private planes, weren’t you?’

  A lump rose in Marnie’s throat and, quickly, she changed the subject. ‘Whatever you’re doing, just keep doing it. You look fantastic,’ she said huskily.

  The biscuit she’d been just about to munch into forgotten, Pansy smiled—a soft, sweet smile edged with contentment. Marnie had never seen her sister look like that before and suddenly the penny dropped, and she wondered what had taken her so long to work it out. ‘You’re in love?’ she asked.

  Pansy nodded. ‘I am. I’ve been seeing Walker. Quite a lot, actually.’

  ‘The barrister who defended you?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  A flare of anxiety washed through her. ‘Pansy, is that even legal?’

  Her twin shot her a reproving look. ‘Of course it is. It happens all the time, lawyers falling in love with their clients—although apparently it’s always best to wait until the case is over.’ She grinned. ‘And Walker is way too ambitious to ever risk breaking the law.’

  ‘And he doesn’t mind—’

  ‘That my mum was on the game and that I spent time in prison myself?’ Pansy sighed and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, obviously it’s not the perfect CV for a barrister’s wife but he says those experiences are what made me the woman I am today, and he loves that woman. Anyway, isn’t the whole point of life supposed to be about learning from our mistakes and other people’s? About redemption?’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ said Marnie gruffly, knowing she had to get her twin out of here because any minute now she was going to break down and cry. ‘Anyway, you’d better get back to him.’

  ‘Marnie—’

  ‘No. Honestly. I really don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘But you don’t know what I was going to say.’

  ‘Yes, I do. We’re twins, Pan, and sometimes I know what you’re thinking, though that’s going to happen less and less, the closer you get to Walker. And that’s the way it should be. I’m so happy for you. Really, I am. I think it’s a wonderful love story, but I don’t want to talk about Leon. Not now and not ever. I just don’t. It...it hurts too much.’ She drew in a deep breath, aware of just how much vulnerability she was revealing to her younger sister. And that was a first. ‘Do you understand?’

  Pressing her lips together as if she too was trying not to cry, Pansy nodded. ‘I understand perfectly,’ she whispered, and suddenly the two sisters were embracing, more tightly than they’d done in years. ‘Just keep in touch, won’t you?’

  ‘Try stopping me,’ answered Marnie fiercely, but once her twin had driven away in Walker’s strangely silent electric car, she didn’t have to pretend any more. For a while, she sat on an overstuffed armchair, buried her face in her hands and wept. She wept as tears trickled out from between her fingers and dripped onto her jeans. Until she felt exhausted, but in a way washed clean. And lighter, somehow—although the terrible ache in her heart hadn’t gone away.

  But as the next few days passed, Marnie tried to come to terms with what had happened, convincing herself that it was nothing more than she had ever expected. Like Pansy said, it was always going to end in tears. She couldn’t allow what had happened with Leon to define her life in a negative way, she just couldn’t. She needed to extract all the lovely elements they’d shared and remind herself that she was capable of a lot more things than she’d previously imagined. Of love, for a start—and how could any experience which had given her that ever be described as bad? It wasn’t as if she’d ever seriously considered a future with him, was it? She’d get over it eventually, because people did. Every day thousands of people were getting their hearts broken and picking themselves up and carrying on.

  Well, so would she.

  Leon had managed to do it. Obviously. He hadn’t tried to reach out and connect with her since she’d stormed from his Kensington apartment, had he? And she told herself she was glad about that. It would have been torture to speak to him, or see him and pretend that her heart wasn’t shattering into a million pieces. She might have announced that her love for him was in the past tense but that wasn’t true, was it? Love didn’t disappear overnight, more was the pity.

  Each day she would pull on some wellington boots, a waterproof coat and wide-brimmed hat and set off across the green-grey landscape of the brooding moorland, her stride lengthening as she got further away from the cottage. She’d bought herself an ordnance survey map and had started to explore the area in detail. It was so beautiful out here—in a very stark and elemental way. There were rocks and waterfalls and circling birds of prey. She was completely alone and yet somehow that felt okay.

  One afternoon she had a slight wobble on her way back to the cottage, when she thought she spotted a man on the horizon, surveying the landscape through a pair of binoculars which glinted in the winter sun. The tall and brooding figure so reminded her of Leon that her heart constricted very painfully and tears sprang to her eyes. But thankfully the sound of a bird distracted her and when she turned back again, the man had gone. And that was normal too. You’re not going mad at all, she reassured herself. It was probably a common phenomenon to imagine you’d seen someone when you’d been thinking about them as obsessively as she had about Leon Kanonidou.

  She was tired when she let herself back into the cottage, but it was a very satisfying sort of tiredness. It wasn’t like working out at the gym but a much more gratifying form of exercise, she decided. Peering into the tiny mirror over the bathroom sink, she appeared to have lost some of the haunted look which had made her face look so sallow recently and she wondered if it was time to leave London for good. Perhaps she should make the break from Hair Heaven permanent. She could move to somewhere like Yorkshire and see if she could get the backing to set up a little salon of her own. It was good to make plans. It made the future seem less bleak.

  It was growing dark and she was deciding which book she would start reading this evening, having told the cottage owner that she didn’t mind not having any broadband—how stupid was that?—when she saw the flare of headlights on the approaching track and heard the purr of a car drawing up outside the cottage.

  Her heart raced and she knew then that she hadn’t imagined a man who looked like Leon on the Yorkshire Moors. Because no other man looked like Leon and no other man ever could. He was here. Somehow he had managed to track down where she was staying. On the other side of that door was the man she loved with all her heart.

  And she didn’t know if she could face him.

  Wouldn’t it set her recovery back and prolong the torture if she allowed her eyes to feast on him once more?

  The loud knock reinforced his identity as much as the powerful car he was driving.
She’d heard a knock like that once before when she’d been in Greece, feeling miserable and foolish after losing her virginity to him and realising he wasn’t the man she thought he was. But she was a different Marnie now. She might be badly hurt, but she had always been strong. The question was whether she was strong enough to cope with seeing him again.

  He was probably expecting her to play push-pull. To act all coy while not quite managing to hide her excitement at the realisation that he’d driven all this way to see her. Telling him to go away while expecting him to kiss her into changing her mind. He probably thought she would allow him to seduce her in front of that stupid damp fire, which she had been trying unsuccessfully to light. Well, he could go to hell!

  She walked over to the door and pulled it open, trying not to react to his dark and windswept beauty as, coolly, she met his gaze.

  ‘Who do you think you are? Heathcliff?’

  ‘I hope not.’ His voice was wry. ‘Because I haven’t come here to see a ghost.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve read Wuthering Heights.’

  ‘Why? Because I’m Greek, or because I’m a man?’

  Suddenly her knees sagged. She mustn’t allow herself to get distracted. She mustn’t. She must not put herself in emotional danger. Because suddenly the idea that she possessed some kind of inner strength was in grave doubt. ‘Why are you here, Leon?’

  ‘You must know why I’m here.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t. I think I may have mentioned before that I’m a hairdresser, not a mind-reader.’

  ‘I’d like to come in.’

  She made a play of hesitating but she knew it was a lost cause. Because no way was she going to send him away without hearing what he had to say—he knew that and she knew that. But that didn’t mean she had to take his coat, or offer him a drink, did it? Why was he here? she wondered caustically. Had he been warned that a journalist had contacted her last week, offering her an eye-watering amount of money if she agreed to cooperate on a profile piece about the enigmatic billionaire—and was he seriously worried that she might go ahead and do it?