Charming: A Cinderella Billionaire Story

by Sophie Brooks

  It was hard to resist the urge to lash out, even at the one guy who was always in my corner. Instead, I looked away, the phone still pressed so hard against my ear that I thought it might come out the other side of my head.

  And still, no sound, nothing. Nothing as we turned off the main thoroughfare onto smaller streets. Nothing as we drove through older, rundown neighborhoods I was unfamiliar with. But Jason could locate any address in the city. He was like a human GPS.

  There was nothing in my ear—until all of a sudden there was something. A noise. Sounds I couldn’t decipher coming from the phone. It was torture, not knowing what those sounds meant.

  I wanted to call to her, to shout her name into the phone loud enough that she would hear me no matter where she’d put the headset, but I didn’t know who else might hear. I didn’t know what else might be happening. And that was pure fucking torture.

  At last, a louder noise. A cry of surprise.

  Instinctively, I unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to jump out of the car, but we weren’t even within sight of the building yet. All I could do was grip my phone tighter.

  Another cry. And then her voice. “In here. I’m in here.”

  My breath caught, but I wasn’t ready to release it just yet. Not until I knew for sure.

  The sound of a door opening. A light, feminine gasp. And then a low, gruff voice that at the moment sounded to me just about as good as hers did.

  “We got ‘em. You’re safe, miss.”

  6

  Ford

  My first impression of her apartment building was the reflection of red and blue lights from three cop cars. Hopping out of the SUV, I squinted to see past the bright lights. It was a typical, poorly maintained hellhole, from what I could see. I scanned up to the roof. Five stories tall. She lived on the third floor.

  There was a cop stationed in the front entryway. Much as I wanted to shove him out of the way and run upstairs to see for myself that she was okay, I knew that this wasn’t about me. Right now, she needed the police to take her statement and assure her that she was safe. When they were done, it would be my turn.

  Jason turned up, having parked the car down the block, and caught my eye. He indicated the side of the building, and I followed him back there, figuring he must’ve scoped out another way in.

  The glass door in the back was locked, but it was a flimsy lock that Jason had open in about thirteen seconds. I pointedly looked away—who was I to say that he hadn’t found the door unlocked in the first place in a dump like this?

  Inside the dingy hallway was an elevator with a dented door and an Out Of Order sign. Like anyone would voluntarily get into an elevator in such a rickety old building. I took the stairs two at a time but slowed as I reached the third floor. Even I knew better than to rush up behind armed officers.

  Jason caught up to me at the landing, and we looked into the hall. Two officers were talking outside of an open door halfway down. After a minute or two, one of the officers came toward us, so we opened the door and walked down the hall. Jason launched into some kind of commentary about a basketball game that may or may not have been real, and I said “uh-huh” at most of the right places. Just two normal guys, shooting the breeze. We nodded at the officer as he passed us.

  Jason walked up to the remaining officer and did that whole military-man-to-fellow-officer thing. He said that we were the ones who’d phoned in the 911 call. After a moment or two, the officer stepped aside to let me in.

  Two steps in, and I had to stop and take stock. I’d known that she and her sister didn’t have much money—how could they, given that they’d practically been children when they were left to fend for themselves? But still… this was worse than I was expecting.

  All right, maybe I was a bit of a rich snob. Certainly an ex-girlfriend—or two—had accused me of being so. But my family owned some apartment buildings, and I’d toured a few not long ago. I couldn’t imagine any landlord renting a space in this condition to a tenant. Especially not to two young women on their own. The assholes who’d broken in had probably only had to tap on the door before it gave way. I glared at the splintered wood as if the door itself was to blame. All I wanted to do was to punch the fuckhead who’d installed doors with the strength of poster board.

  The rest of the living room wasn’t much better. Peeling paint. Walls that didn’t quite meet at right angles. Stains on the ceiling from water damage. What a hellhole. Even before the burglars had ransacked the place.

  Voices from the kitchen caught my attention. It sounded like two officers were in there questioning her, one male, one female. I’d let them finish, and then I’d get her the hell out of here.

  Through force of will, I took a deep breath, the rational side of my brain pleading for calm. The last thing she needed was for me to storm in there raging about what a rip-off this place was. The last thing she needed was to see the anger of a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.

  But I wouldn’t be a stranger for long. Sure, I’d imagined our first meeting quite differently than this. In my mind, it had featured a romantic dinner at one of the best restaurants in town, followed by a night of passion. How many times had I dreamed about how she’d sound as I used my lips, my tongue, my fingers, and my cock to drive her insane?

  No, this was not the meeting I’d planned. But this was how our first meeting would be, so I could try to be what she needed now. I would be what she needed now.

  With a slightly calmer mindset, I looked around the living room again. The apartment was crap, that hadn’t changed, but now I noticed the details, which gave me yet another reason to admire her. She’d done her best to make it into a home for her sister. The old couch and armchair didn’t match, but both sported soft pillows in a cheerful, feminine cream color. The cheap, particleboard bookcases had clearly been overflowing, though now most of their contents were on the ground. I stepped closer. There were textbooks, both ancient and newer, as well as supplemental books on world history, art, and literature.

  There were a good number of CDs in the pile at my feet, too. Most of the ones that had landed with their covers up were musicals. I didn’t even know anyone who still used CDs, but when I pulled one out, it had a sticker from a local thrift shop. Fifty cents. I guess fifty cents for a whole album was better than downloading it for five dollars online, but still…it was like we lived on different planets. In some ways, I supposed we did. I could buy this entire building—and should, given the way it was run—tomorrow and not even notice the hit in my bank account. And she and her sister bought used books and music at thrift shops.

  There was a TV, too, but it was small. I didn’t imagine either one of them had a lot of free time for that kind of thing. The shelf above it caught my attention. It was full of framed photographs, some of an attractive couple who must have been their parents. But the rest were pictures of what looked to be high school performances, some featuring Autumn and some with her sister. They looked a lot alike, but I suspected that Autumn wasn’t still the smiling, excited girl she’d been in high school. No way she could be, after all she’d been through. Our lives had been completely different, but even I knew losing a parent cut deep. Even when you didn’t have to worry about how you were going to support yourself.

  Behind the shelf was a large poster with a black star in the middle. A man stood on top of the star, forming the top of the shape. It looked familiar. I leaned closer and stared at it for a moment before realizing it was a poster for the musical Hamilton.

  Chairs scraped in the kitchen, and I turned around. Two officers came out, and I nodded at them as if I had every right to be there. I could bluff my way through almost anything when I needed to. The two officers spoke quietly to the one stationed in the hall, and then they left, not even bothering to try to close the broken door. Assholes. What was she supposed to do, leave it open all night?

  And then she was there. Standing in the entryway from the kitchen blinking up at me. God, she was beautiful. Her pictur
e hadn’t done her justice. Standing there in faded jeans, bare feet, and a button-down shirt, she was probably the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Her eyes were red from her earlier tears, and she looked a little dazed, which wasn’t surprising. But still, the sight of her nearly stopped my heart. She was perfect.

  “Was there something else?”

  It took me a few moments to register that she’d spoken. Yeah, I’d recognize that voice anywhere in the world, even as shaken as it currently sounded, but I was still stunned from actually seeing her in person.

  When I didn’t answer, she continued, “The other detective said they’d contact me tomorrow if there was anything else they needed to know. I’m sorry, but I have to pick up my sister now.”

  Christ, she thought I was a detective? She thought I was dressed like a detective? If so, I clearly needed a new personal shopper. But she was having one hell of a night, so she probably didn’t know up from down right now.

  “I’m not a detective,” I said, and her eyes widened as soon as I spoke. She gaped at me, a question written on her face, and I nodded. “I’m Ford.”

  She stared, and I waited. Would she ask why I was there? Would she be embarrassed with how we’d met? Would she be too overwhelmed by yet another new experience tonight?

  But my guesses were completely off base. What she actually did shocked the hell out of me.

  She took a few shaky steps forward and threw herself into my arms.

  7

  Autumn

  “It’s on Main and Fourth,” I said to the hulking man who’d introduced himself as Ford’s driver. He nodded curtly at me as he drove confidently out of my neighborhood. A neighborhood that didn’t often see cars like this.

  Despite all that had happened tonight, my mind couldn’t get past the fact that in the space of forty minutes, I’d gone from huddling in a closet to sitting in an SUV that probably cost more than Cara’s tuition would for four years at a state university. Unbelievable.

  Even harder to accept was the man sitting next to me. Ford. The man I’d talked to, flirted with, and endlessly wondered about for the past few months. He’d called the police and saved me. He’d been in my apartment. He’d held me in his arms. Ford was real, and I was in his car. Again—it was all a little hard to believe.

  He was looking steadily at me now. “How are you doing?” Those piercing eyes somehow suited the rich baritone of his voice.

  “Still a little shaky,” I admitted.

  “Understandable, under the circumstances.”

  “Yeah,” I said, and then couldn’t think of what to say next. It was all catching up with me, how those men had forced their way into my apartment. They could have easily broken the door to the bedroom, too, and found me and… and…

  “Take it easy. You’re safe now.”

  I gulped and tried to believe it. Intellectually, I knew it was true, but still… My body was still in fight-or-flight mode. Still poised to run. Yet in my apartment, I’d run straight into his arms. I’m still not sure how that’d happened, but it felt like I could’ve stayed there forever as he held me tightly, one hand stroking my hair, the other firm on my back. It was the safest I’d felt in years.

  I’d needed that, but I’m not sure exactly why I was still with him. In his car. Heading to pick up my sister at the library. If someone had told me yesterday that I’d be introducing a client from Sultry Sirens to my little sister, I would have bet a million dollars against it. Or at least bet the hundred and ninety dollars that was in my bank account at the moment. And yet, somehow, here I was.

  And here we were, pulling up in front of the stately brick building. It was only a few minutes after nine. For once, Cara was already out on the steps, her heavy bag of books resting on a bench as she looked at her phone. She didn’t look up as I opened the door. She was expecting our ancient silver hatchback, not a luxury SUV.

  “Cara.”

  Now she looked up and gawked, staring from me to the massive black car behind me and back again. “What’s going on?”

  “Lots,” I said. “Get in and I’ll explain.”

  I certainly didn’t have to tell her twice. She gathered her things and practically skipped to the car, eager to see inside. That was one of the things I loved about her. Even after all we’d been through, she hadn’t lost her ability to be curious and excited about new things.

  Climbing back inside, I held the door for her. She swung her heavy book bag up and then paused, one foot up on the step. “Whoa.”

  I tried to see the scene through her eyes. A top-of-the-line SUV. A driver dressed in black. A tall, dark, and handsome man, complete with black jeans, a leather jacket, and a Rolex. And me. I wasn’t really sure how I fit into this mix.

  After another beat, she climbed in. “Did we win the lottery? ‘Cause if so, our luck has completely changed in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “Actually, our luck is pretty much the same as always,” I said grimly, and I told her what happened as succinctly as I could. I downplayed the part about me huddling in the closest, terrified I’d be found. Instead, I said I waited in the bedroom until the police came. Ford glanced at me as I did, but said nothing.

  “Oh my god, are you okay?” Despite my creative license with the story, Cara looked genuinely concerned. She slid over toward me and pulled me in a tight hug. “Tell me they didn’t hurt you.”

  “I’m fine,” I breathed back into her shoulder-length blonde hair that smelled of the citrusy shampoo we both used. I held on to her a little longer than necessary. Seemed like I was doing that with everyone tonight. “Really, I am.”

  She patted me on the back and then settled back in her seat.

  Before I could say anything else, the driver said, “Seat belts, please.” Clearly, he was not a man to waste words. Cara and I dutifully buckled up, and the car moved forward smoothly. The engine was so quiet that I’d forgotten that it was on.

  “That’s Jason,” Ford said to Cara. “My driver and right-hand man. And I’m Ford. I’m a friend of your sister’s.”

  Cara took the hand he offered, and I could see the moment she truly registered his appearance. Her mouth fell slightly open as she shook his hand, a dazed look settling on her face that was probably much like the one I wore.

  Even without the events of tonight, Ford was a lot to take in. I know it’s cliché to say that a handsome man looked like a movie star, but Ford truly did. Like a leading man. Like an action star—he was certainly fit enough to be one. Or maybe even a gentleman spy in a thriller. Certainly I’d never met anyone in real life who looked like him, and apparently, neither had Cara.

  He had to be at least six two. When he’d held me, the top of my head fit easily under his chin. His tan skin was smooth save for a few lines around the corners of his eyes. He looked to be about thirty, so seven years older than me. His dark hair was casually rumpled in a way that probably took most movie stars hours to perfect with their stylists. And those eyes… that was what I couldn’t look away from. They were almost as mesmerizing as his voice. In my apartment, I’d noticed their vivid green even through my shock. Now, in the car, they looked more gray than green. But they still seemed to see right into my soul.

  “I don’t understand,” Cara began. “How did he—” She turned from me to Ford. “When did you—”

  “She called me after the break-in,” Ford said.

  “But how do you two even know—”

  “He’s a customer from the diner,” I interjected.

  Ford played along, with a slight revision. “A friend from the diner. I go there at least once a week for their BLT.”

  I had to fight the slightly hysterical urge to laugh. Ford, with his fancy clothes and car, did not seem like the type to get a BLT from a local greasy spoon. Especially not the kind my diner served. Seemed like he could do much better than burnt toast, wilted lettuce, and an anemic slice of tomato.

  Cara smiled, but she kept looking back and forth from me to Ford. Well, she mostly looked a
t Ford, because let’s face it, what heterosexual woman wouldn’t? But she didn’t look suspicious, at least. She looked excited instead. Easy for her to be… she hadn’t had to hide in the closet while intruders tossed our possessions around in the next room. Not that she wasn’t concerned for me, but she could see that I was okay, so she was more intrigued by this turn of events than upset. Unlike me.

  Actually, I didn’t know what I was feeling, so I just listened a few minutes while Ford asked Cara polite questions about the classes she was taking. I hoped she wouldn’t give him too many personal details—the need to keep my private life private had been drummed into me during the time I’d worked for Sultry Sirens—but, well, I’d already decided tonight to trust Ford. And so far, nothing had made me regret that decision. If I hadn’t, those men might have… I couldn’t even bear to think about it.

  Ford must have seen something on my face, because he looked at me with concern. After a moment, Cara wound down too. She’d been telling him about her play. He reached down and opened a hatch near the base of his seat and pulled out chilled bottles of water for us. I took mine gratefully.

  “Your sister’s had a long night,” he said to Cara. She reached over and squeezed my hand, but I was too distracted to squeeze back. I replayed the words that Ford had just said: your sister.

  Oh god, he didn’t know my real name. What if he called me Summer? What if he called me that in front of Cara?

  I spent a good portion of the rest of the car ride trying to figure out how to work my name casually into the conversation, but I came up blank. What was I supposed to do, say something idiotic like “It’s February, but in eight months it’ll be autumn, like my name”? Apparently, my brain cells had not yet recovered from my earlier fright.