Page 119 of Cinderella Is Faking It

I dropped my head back against the shelf that had housed antique China up until three hours ago. “Because 1000 books make a library.”

“Then you’re still missing one- oooh.” Defne slapped her palm against her forehead.

“999 books to help me write mine.” I drummed my fingers against the thick book of mermaid mythology that had been sitting in my lap for the last 20 minutes.

“I’m not saying we should forgive him,” Tabitha prefaced, “but I think this is a way more romantic gift than a vibrator.”

“A vibrator?” Cordelia gaped, hand stilling on Fitzwilliam’s back, while Victor was suddenly very interested in Hydrographic Survey Methods 101.

“It was a thing.” I waved her off.

“Not a big thing,” Tabitha added, indicating a three-inch length between her fingers.

“The size doesn’t really matter when it’s an air pressure vibrator,” I pointed out.

“I think I left the ice cream in the car,” Victor said and swung himself to his feet in an enviable show of athleticism. He power-walked out of the room fast enough for his shoes to squeak against the wooden floors.

The second he was through the door, the rest of us burst into laughter.

Victor pokedhis head back into the china-gallery-turned-almost-library a few hours later. “Safe to come in?”

“Promise not to talk about sex toys,” I replied, re-shelving the coral reef book someone had put in the seabed section, when it should be with the flora and fauna books. The others had cleared out half an hour ago, and I was still fixing the shelving system.

“Good, although you’d probably prefer talking about sex toys to this.” He held up a manila envelope and crossed the room to me. “I should warn you, there’s very graphic images in there.”

“Are you giving me porn?” I grinned and pulled a file folder from the envelope. My smile faltered when I realized what he was giving me. “I already know what happened the day of the accident. How did you even get your hands on apolice report?”

“You don’t know everything. I added notes. You should burn this after reading.” He nodded at the fireplace on the other wall.

“Okay. Thanks?”

He left me with a curt nod.

I knew he was a man of few words, but sometimes, being less cryptic wouldn’t hurt.

I dragged the armchair from the window to the bookshelves and curled up in it, flipping the police report open like a novel. My stomach churned at the images of Beck’s car, lying on its side, metal crinkled like paper. The passenger side of the Porsche was bent inwards like a pop-it toy. Automatically my fingers, no longer broken, slipped into my shirt to trace the scar along my ribs. I’d been half an inch from drowning in my own blood.

The other car didn’t seem as badly damaged with only its front folded in, but I’d been told the driver hadn’t survived the crash.

I flipped the pages until I got to the actual report and stopped breathing. Roger Childs. The name was glaring at me from the top of the page. My insides tightened, stomach souring, and my mind immediately conjured up images of his hand on my thigh. I shook my head to ward the memories off like annoying flies. What the heck was his name- I flipped back to the images of the cars. Silver Volvo. Maybe it would have looked more familiar if it hadn’t been as damaged, but it wasn’t a car that stood out until seeing it in front of your workplace turned your tongue to sandpaper in the morning.

Roger had been the one who rammed into us. The police report said his phone was found near his seat and he must have been texting when leaving the rest stop. There was no note about his ties to me because there was nomein this. Roger didn’t know Cordelia Montgomery. I doubted the policemen involved in a closed-and-shut accident were interested in the society pages enough to care about Delilah-me and follow up on this… What would they even find? The man who had once tried to coerce me into spreading my legs had his neck snapped by his own airbag when he tried to run me off the road? Suited him fucking right.

The page tore in the cramping grasp of my fingers and I sucked in a deep breath and focused back on the words. I’d known Beck pulled me out of the car. The nurses had been swooning over him every second they got when I’d gone back at the hospital. A proper knight in shining armor. Yeah right. He’d still needed me to marry him. If I’d died, Cordelia could have simply branded me an imposter, but Beck couldn’t have just started dating the real Cordelia without looking suspicious.

I hadn’t known he’d also pulled the other driver out. Too late for Roger though.

I finally got to the page Victor had promised. The one with his notes. A play-by-play account of how they had hired private investigators to look into Roger and had used that information to get him fired - and had sent a copy to his wife. He didn’t go into detail about what the investigators had found, but it must have been bad enough to cause a divorce - and make Roger mad enough to follow me and run me off the road when he saw an opening. He was vindictive enough for that. Or… had been. Good riddance.

Victor also detailed how Julian had blackmailed him, threatened to reveal his location to his family if he didn’t get me out of the hospital - only to find out Julian had been working with his family for a while. Nothing about Beck.

After burning the pages, as instructed, I went to the garage and stared at the red Porsche waiting next to Cordelia’s town car. Turns out, sending back a car wasn’t as easy as sending back a notebook or regifting flower bouquets. I’d considered just dropping it off in front of Axent’s headquarters, but… I climbed into the passenger seat, trying hard not to let the scent of fresh car and rich leather seduce me, and pulled the papers from the glove compartment. Registered to two owners. Cordelia Montgomery. Delilah Edwards.

Fine. He wanted to get my attention. He had my attention. And I needed some straight answers.

An hour later, I stood in front of a nervous doorman while he tried to get through to the penthouse. “I’m very sorry Miss Edwards, but it appears he’s unavailable.”

“Fine, then just give him this.” I smacked the key to the Porsche down on the counter and just pulled the registration from my bag, when his voice poured over me like honey.

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