The Cinderella Seduction: A Suddenly Cinderella Novel (Entangled Indulgence)

by Tarr, Hope

  So far, stepping into the role of player didn’t feel as empowering as she’d expected. Had Pete felt this shitty about gaming her? Of course he hadn’t. Deception was what white-collar criminals did best. For her, however, spieling even little white lies was already proving to be a lot more taxing than she’d thought.

  Holding out the takeout bag, the contents oozing grease, she said, “You didn’t need to bring breakfast.”

  He inclined his head. “Need—perhaps not. But it is my pleasure. And I thought we might eat on the way.” His gaze flickered over her, warm and searching, the scrutiny making her glad she’d forgone the jeans she usually wore for site visits in favor of a chic floral-print two-piece.

  Distracted, it took her a moment to realize that something, or rather someone, was missing. “Where’s Mara?”

  He scraped back a lock of damp, dark hair that had fallen forward over his brow. Fixating on his fingers, tapered yet strong, she snapped herself back in time to hear him say, “I was able to arrange for a sitter through the hotel concierge. She was still sleeping when I left.”

  So they would spend the day alone together. That was…convenient. With his bachelor status confirmed, she no longer needed to rely on food alone to woo him. Seduction, according to Macie, was one-third action and two-thirds tease. For her pop’s sake, Stefanie resolved to do her best on the provocation part. Falling into bed with him was out of the question. Single or married, Nick Costas was the enemy. Lust was apparently unavoidable, but she couldn’t afford to like him.

  She peered past him to the Ferrari occupying a prime street parking space directly in front of her house. Really, who leased a Ferrari for just a few days? Apparently a visiting Greek billionaire did. And damn, she almost never scored that spot. Her ramshackle car was parked on a side street five blocks away, the closest she’d been able to get the last time she’d driven it. In addition to being extremely genetically blessed and born into the best of families, was he also like…living The Secret?

  “What happened to the driver my pop arranged?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as miffed as she suddenly felt. Was the town car with its driver—a splurge for them—not good enough?

  “I—how do you say it?—ditched him,” he said, his grin making him look more like a mischievous schoolboy than a mogul with the power to bulldoze her father’s business and her grandfather’s legacy.

  Stefanie had planned on doing the driving, an intention she’d made clear last night. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You don’t know the area.”

  He had, she grudgingly admitted, saved them a hike in the heat. Still, the way he seized control as a matter of course—as if being the leader was his birthright—galled her. As the owner of her own business, Stefanie was used to calling the shots. Ceding the proverbial driver’s seat didn’t sit well with her, not that it seemed she had a choice. Apparently “seducing” him would involve embracing her more traditional side.

  He shrugged. “True, I do not, but you do. And the car has GPS,” he added in a teasing tone, reaching past her to open the door.

  Remembering she was supposed to be winning him over, not picking him to pieces, she pasted on a smile. “In that case, how can I resist?”

  Grabbing her handbag off the hook, she deliberately brushed his biceps, the muscle beneath the fine tailoring solid as steel. “Oh, sorry,” she said though of course she was anything but. Unfortunately she was turned on as well. Fantasizing about what it would feel like to be banded by his powerful embrace, wondering if she’d get to find out for real, she shivered against the sudden tingling tripping along her spine.

  If Nick was affected by the casual contact, he gave no sign of it. Letting out a laugh, his big hand took possession of her shoulder, the heat from his palm searing through her clothes. “Do not look so worried, Stefanie. You will be safe with me.”

  …

  “And this is where the agora will be,” Stefanie said as they walked the periphery of the fenced-off marketplace, their safety boots sloshing through mud.

  Apart from a pair of Doric columns and set of steps announcing the facade, the market building was still an empty slab of concrete foundation. It was a stark and sad contrast to the billboard depicting the architect’s rendering of an elegant glass-enclosed gallery containing a Greek grocery and specialty shops.

  Silently Nick admitted the situation was even grimmer than it appeared on paper. The overnight rains had turned the unpaved pathways into a bog. Danger, Do Not Enter signs were prominently posted. Staked tarps, deserted cranes, and rusted construction equipment surrounded them. Other than the leasing office and one of the three mini-residential “villages,” most of the project was still a working construction site. Not working—abandoned. Stefanie had attributed the ghost town-like quality to the upcoming holiday, but Nick had his doubts. It was evident that the site had lain fallow for far longer than a few days.

  “Are you expecting someone?” he asked when she pulled out her iPhone yet again. The frequency with which she’d checked it since their arrival a few hours ago had him wondering what she might be up to.

  The brim of her bright yellow hard hat slid forward, shadowing her lovely eyes, but not so much that Nick couldn’t detect the anxiety they reflected. Not for the first time since they’d arrived, he faulted her father for placing her in this position. What kind of coward fabricated having the flu and sent his daughter to defend him?

  Shoving the phone back in her pocket, she walked on. “Just…keeping watch on the time. We’ll want to start back before four; otherwise we’ll get caught in rush hour.”

  The hour drive up had been uneventful, the I-495 traffic running in a steady stream. Given that it was the summer holiday season, he surmised the return “rush hour” would also be more manageable than usual.

  Curious as to what she would say, he asked, “Have you considered using more cost-conserving materials such as EIFIS?”

  The synthetic stucco was a popular alternative frequently found in lower-budget residential development. Improper installation and testing often led to bulging and cracking of the outside surface and to water stains on the outer and inner walls, especially around windows and doors.

  Stefanie wheeled around to face him. Shoving back her hat to look up at him, she jerked her chin to indicate the site they’d left behind. “Yeah, and the results look fine for the time being, long enough to unload the property on some poor, unsuspecting home buyer. Then you get a weather event or the building settles naturally and suddenly your dream house isn’t looking so dreamy at all. No thank you. I’d rather we take our time finishing things the right way than see Acropolis Village turn out like some tatty suburban strip mall. At Olympia, we don’t cut corners. We build to last, not for five or ten years out but for generations. That’s not just an empty slogan, Mr. Costas. That’s our covenant with consumers.”

  Pleased by her passion, even if she had resumed calling him “Mr. Costas,” he said, “For one who is not ‘actively involved in daily operations’ you have an impressive knowledge of construction matters.”

  She shrugged, her chin lifting in obvious pride. “Olympia Development has been in my family since my grandfather founded it in 1949. I grew up listening to him and my pop hashing this stuff out over Sunday dinners. I guess some of it sunk in.”

  It seemed their backgrounds were more similar than Nick would have thought. He also had learned the family business at the knee of his father. He was still learning. Even having assumed the patriarch’s title and responsibilities, he hoped to have him around for many more years as a mentor.

  For now, it was delightful to finally meet a woman with whom he could discuss these matters. Without exception, the models, actresses, and socialites he’d dated would have expired from boredom. Instead, Stefanie stood prepared to debate, even battle him if need be.

  But their commonalities didn’t alter the unfortunate fact that they represented opposing sides of a significant business deal. Given those circumstances, he
couldn’t afford to enjoy her company too greatly. He suspected that her accidental touch back at the house hadn’t been accidental at all but a deliberate power play. Laying his hand on her shoulder had begun as pure retaliation—and ended in sparking a great deal more. That she’d fitted his palm perfectly was an unfortunate coincidence. Nor had he been as unaffected as he’d forced himself to appear. Going forward, he’d need to be certain to raise his guard around her at all times.

  Nick nodded. “I would say a great deal has sunk in. Only please, go back to calling me Nick. ‘Mr. Costas’ makes me feel like I am as old as my father,” he added with a wink, a calculated attempt to disarm her.

  Her expression lightened. An adorable dimple appeared on the right side of her mouth. “All right…Nick.” She looked up at him with a smile, sending the construction hat seesawing. Acting on instinct, Nick shot out a hand to right it.

  Before he could, something or someone caught Stefanie’s eye and she spun away. “Mrs. Gianikos!” she shouted, throwing both arms high into the air.

  Dropping his hand, Nick followed her gaze to the roadside where a seventyish woman wearing a sports visor and wrist weights power-walked up the jogging path toward them. “This is a friend of yours?”

  Expression fevered, she turned back to him. “Mrs. G and her husband were among the first wave of purchasers in ’07. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

  Grasping his hand, she ferried them forward. Taken by surprise, Nick hesitated, then relaxed, allowing her to tow him along. Though her behavior struck him as odd, even suspicious, he followed anyway. Like his hand molding to her shoulder, her slender fingers fitting about his felt so very…right.

  They met the newcomer midway. Stefanie broke hands and sallied forward. “Mrs. Gianikos I’m so glad we ran into you. How are you today?” she asked, pitching her voice higher.

  “Fit as a fiddle,” Mrs. Gianikos replied, a smile cracking her wizened face. Tanned, slender, and silver-haired, she could have been a poster “child” for AARP. “Only how many times do I gotta tell you it’s Mona?” She turned to Nick, raking him from head to foot with her keen, wizened eyes. “Who’s the hottie?” she asked, waving a wrinkled hand his way.

  Face heating, he stepped forward. “Nick Costas,” he answered, taking her hand in his.

  Cheeks pink, Stefanie hurried to explain, “Mr. Costas’s company provided the startup funding for Acropolis Village. He’s visiting us from Greece.”

  The two women exchanged what struck Nick as a significant look. “Oh, that’s swell,” Mona enthused. “My family emigrated from Rhodes when I was a little girl. I don’t remember much but what I do remember I miss.”

  “Mrs. G—Mona—and her husband own one of the lovely two bedroom bungalows,” Stefanie added, steering the conversation back to the project. “Every room has a water view.”

  The woman bobbed her silvered head. “All my life it’s been my dream to live by the water. We bought one a block from the beach. Since making the move, we’ve come to think of ourselves as pioneers,” she added with a chuckle.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Nick caught Stefanie flinch. “Why is that?” he asked although standing amidst the staked tarps and rusted construction equipment, the answer seemed obvious.

  Mrs. G hesitated. Looking from him to Stefanie, she said, “Well, there aren’t all that many neighbors, not that we mind. After living in the city for most of our lives, we appreciate the peace and quiet.”

  Stefanie cleared her throat. “Since this is Nick’s first time seeing the project, I’m hoping you can spare a few minutes to talk about why you and your husband decided to retire here.”

  The leading question confirmed Nick’s suspicion that Mrs. G hadn’t just happened by. She was a plant, a setup Stefanie had enlisted to dupe him. Still, one of the many lessons Nick’s father had impressed upon him was that a wise man put his pride aside long enough to listen. Even when people set out to deceive you, they almost always revealed something of value. In that spirit, he folded his arms across his chest and waited.

  “A few minutes, ha! Honey, I’ve got the rest of my life. What do you want to know?”

  Stefanie opened her mouth, but this time Nick cut her off before she could get the first word out. “Perhaps you would be so good as to take me through a typical day?”

  She blinked. “A typical day?” Clearly his question must mean going off script.

  Nick nodded. “Yes, in your own words, if you please.” He darted Stefanie a deliberate look. Really, she must think him a fool.

  Mona pursed her lips. “Well, we keep retirement hours, so we usually don’t get up in the mornings until around nine. We have our coffee, read the paper, and fiddle on Facebook and e-mail. If it’s a nice day, I’ll pack us a lunch and we’ll take the folding chairs and head to the beach for a few hours. We both just love living on the water, as you can probably tell.” She stretched out a wiry arm in evidence.

  Nick glanced back to Stefanie, busy biting the lipstick from her lower lip. Addressing Mrs. G, he quizzed, “You carry your own chairs from home and back? But I thought the plan called for providing rental-free beach chairs and umbrellas to residents and their guests?” He stared past her to Stefanie.

  “We haven’t quite finished construction on the cabana,” she admitted, shoulders drooping.

  “And the snack bar?” he asked purposefully.

  “Actually, that was reimagined as a food truck—mine.” Her wistful look told him that much, at least, was sincere. “The menu would be—will be—Greek street food—gyros, krokets, tyropitas—all made with heart healthy recipes and ingredients. The idea was—is—to start by having it on weekends and then expanding into weekdays, assuming the interest is here.”

  “It all sounds wonderful, honey, it really does,” Mona broke in. “And once the festival hall is finished, you can maybe set up a food cart inside, too.” Her gaze flickered to Nick. “This year again we drove back to Baltimore for the annual Greek Festival and Parade. The kids and grandkids met us on the steps of our church, Saint Nicholas.”

  “That sounds nice,” Nick said, wondering where she was leading.

  “Oh, it was,” she agreed. “We had a ball.” Smile dimming, she added, “Only my Constantine’s eyesight isn’t what it used to be, so we left earlier than we would have liked to get back before dark. Next year we hope to be able to invite the family out here to celebrate at the new festival hall.”

  Everyone’s gazes veered back to the crater. So far only the foundation had been laid.

  An awkward silence descended. Mona broke it, swinging her gaze around to Nick. “Do you want to hear the rest of my typical day?”

  Watching Stefanie out of the corner of his eye, Nick shook his head. “Thank you but that will not be necessary. We have diverted you from your walk long enough.”

  Mona hesitated. “All right then, I’ll be on my way. Toodles.”

  They stood side by side watching Mona wind her way up the path at an impressive pace. “Would you uh…like to see the taverna next?” Stefanie asked in a pained voice.

  “Is it unfinished, too?” he asked, surmising the answer. She looked so downtrodden that despite the attempted setup, Nick found it hard not to feel for her.

  Turning away to look out toward the beach, she admitted, “Actually it is un-started.”

  Although a generously built woman, she suddenly looked achingly small and fragile, swathed in her borrowed construction hat and boots standing amidst the ruins of her family’s failing legacy. The impulse to reach out to her, to take her hand as she had earlier taken his, nearly overwhelmed him—nearly, but not quite. As her pathetically transparent attempt to deceive him had demonstrated, her allegiance was all to her father. That was as it should be. But Nick too had a father and a family legacy to uphold as well as his pledge—his word of honor—to the mother superior that he would build a new orphanage.

  And then there was that other vow he’d made, this one to himself, to put his player days behind
him and be the father Mara deserved. He didn’t intend to weaken, even if his hostess did have the lush, buxom body of an Aphrodite and the most soul-stirring eyes he’d ever stared into.

  Forcing his hands to remain at his sides, Nick shook his head. “I have seen enough. Let us start back and face this fierce traffic of which you speak. Mara will be missing me.”

  …

  Stefanie acknowledged she’d blown the visit to Acropolis Village—badly. The mud and standing water had made everything look that much bleaker and unfinished. Slogging Nick through field upon field of fallow dreams had brought home just how rough the site still was. By now it shouldn’t be a site at all but a bustling community. She couldn’t even find it in her heart to be miffed at Mona—even the most energetic cheerleader had to put down her pom-poms at some point.

  Beyond how badly her plans had backfired, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d lost hard won ground with Nick. The drive back to DC had been a quiet one. Beyond the radio, there’d been little talking—and absolutely no flirting.

  Fortunately the following day was Friday, July Fourth, and the party at Macie and Ross’s. Several of Macie’s friends from New York were driving down for the holiday and, as she’d promised her pop, she’d be bringing Nick. After Mona’s bungled testimonial, she’d braced herself for his refusal or at the very least some serious hemming and hawing. Instead he’d graciously agreed to go, provided he could bring Mara. Relieved, she’d assured him the gathering would be totally kid-friendly. She only hoped that some of the party spirit would wear off on him.

  In the interim, between preparing for Macie’s and the congressman’s barbecues, she was kept too busy to do much brooding. Sending her assistant off to MacLean in her spare van packed with party platters, she hurried to get herself ready. Acknowledging that she needed to get her seduction plan back on track and fast, she shoved aside the last of her modesty and reached for the V-neck, paisley-patterned halter top she’d sworn to Macie she’d never ever wear in public. Staring at her reflection with a critical eye, still she had to admit that Macie had been right. The skimpy top looked pretty damned good on her.