Claiming Cinderella(8)

By: Amy Brent


“No. You have at it, but not even my mother would want me with one of them, much less the two of them. They’re bad news, and their whole lives are documented for that fucking reality show. I’m surprised that shit’s still airing.”

“They aren’t that bad.” Zep was letting the promise of pussy cloud his judgment, but I wasn’t falling for it. It wasn’t like either of us were hurting in that department.

“For the last time, no. The gala is a week away, and I’m going to concentrate on finding someone I like. If I’m caught hanging with the two serpent twins then no decent girl is going to come within two feet of me, billions or not.”

“Everyone who knows who you are will know of your billions anyway. How will you know that’s not what anyone could be after?”

“I’ll know it in my gut. She’ll be real, untainted by the glam and unfazed by the idea of money. She’ll want to know about me. You know, that’s one thing I’ve noticed. No one ever asks me a damned thing about myself. They are so wrapped up in my money all they can manage is to tell me what they like in hopes that I can give them something. Half the women I’ve dated don’t even know my middle name.”

“Well, it’s a rather nerdy name, so you might just want to keep that under your hat, Bernard.” Zep snickered, and I met his eyes with a glare that reminded him I knew all too well where his own name came from.

“That’s kind of hypocritical coming from someone named after a flying gas balloon.”

“I was named after my father’s favorite band, one of the greatest of all time, fuck you very much.” He released a breath, and we both left the bathroom, heading back to find a new table as our last one had new occupants.

I sat down at the first one that was available and the waitress I’d slept with a few months back came strolling by. She shot me a glare as she approached. “Can I get you anything?” She turned and smiled at Zep who slipped in his order.

“Just get me a beer.” I eyed her up and down, remembering her long legs wrapped around my naked ass as I pounded her.

“Sure thing, honey. I’ll get you your beer with the same effort you took to call me after the sex we had.” She sauntered away, and I had to respect the girl. Most would have been insulted but never called me on my shit.

Zep belted a laugh that was loud enough to turn a few heads in our direction, the ones that weren’t already staring. “Ouch! I like that woman.”

“She was good. Maybe you should try her.” He made a face that told me he just might.

“You know, I gave her an invitation to the gala earlier. With the way you’ve disposed of a few of the locals, things could certainly get interesting.”

About that time the plain Jane who’d spilled her drink rushed past us on her way to the bathroom, she’d apparently spilled again, the front of her blouse was soaked, and tears trailed down her cheeks as she passed.

Zep curled his lip and gave me a nudge. “Poor thing, I’m sure Halle and Sadie are going to eat her alive.”

Without gawking at the poor creature, I stared across the room in the opposite direction. “Better her than me.”





Chapter 5




Ella

Halle turned in front of the three-way mirror and checked the back view of the dress as I sat watching. I could have been in my own room, looking through my collection of my mother’s gowns and choosing just the right dress for the gala, but I was expected to be at the twin’s beck and call and, apparently, they needed all hands on deck to choose the proper dress. It wasn’t as if they valued my opinion at all, but anything to keep me busy and at their mercy made them happy.

Luckily, I still had a week and already had one of the gowns in mind, and it would be there when I got a free moment. I didn’t want to suggest stepping away after what had happened the previous night. I hadn’t meant to spill my drink, but I’d choked on a piece of ice, and it had just happened.

I hadn’t wanted to go out anyway, but the girls had insisted. Of course, that was only after they gave me ten minutes to get ready and hid my flat iron. I’d only had time to brush out the wavy strands, not control them, and by the time the humidity had hit it, it was one big mess. But that wasn’t the worst thing they’d done. They’d taken my contacts the night before, and I’d spent the entire day looking for them. I’d been a squinty, clumsy mess, just as they intended. I knew they’d done it simply because of their father’s suggestion and to show that if I was going to be their tag along, I was also going to be their comic relief.

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