Page 84 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“And the other 5?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Hmm…” I smirked because her big eyes were so eager for more information. “I won’t just fuck you. I will wreck you. I’ll drive you to the point of passing out, caught between pain and pleasure. You’ll scream so loud, you’ll lose your voice. And when you think I’m done with you, I’ll start all over again. Your body will break in ways you didn’t know were possible and you’re going to beg me for more.” With every word her thighs squeezed my hand harder and when I was finished, her throat bobbed.

“Well,” she breathed, “we’ll see about that. You owe me a proper date first.”

THIRTY-FOUR

I slepton my stomach for two nights after my stay at Beck’s.

On the first day, Victor caught a glimpse at my wrist bandage slipping out from the slouchy hoodie I’d thrown on after coming home. He cocked his chin in a silent question, eyes sharp enough that I had no doubt he’d rain hell on anyone who dared to lay a hand on Cordelia - even fake Cordelia. I shook my head and smiled at him, and that was that.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with myself. My research project had come to a somewhat surprising and abrupt end. I wouldn’t mourn the descriptions of foot jobs and diaper fetishes, but I’d grown used to curling up in Beck’s library. Spending hours upon hours with him, surrounded by books. It would be weird if I kept taking up all his time though…

Cordelia spent most of her time holed up in her office these days and spared me only vague greetings in the hallway. When I poked my head through the door a few days later, she was digging her nails into her cheeks, frowning at her screen. “You wanted to talk?”

She’d sent me a calendar ping. Not even a text. “Yes!” Her head snapped up. Her nails had left crescent indents on her face. “You. Lavender Room. Tonight.”

I blinked at her. “I’ll need more detail than that.”

“Right. Right.” She shook her head and raked her fingers through her bangs while she scanned the mess on her desk, shooing Fitzwilliam aside from where he’d been snoring on a stack of papers. That traitor didn’t scratch her, snap at her fingers or do so much as hiss. He just moved aside and curled up on a stack of mail instead. Safe to say, my cat had switched sides.

“I can organize that for you, you know?” I pointed at the paper mess on her desk. “Get you on a filing system.”

“This is perfectly organized. Ha!” She grinned and snatched up a thick linen card. The swirling font on it glistened purple as the light hit it. “Cordelia Montgomery has been invited to join the Marigold Club.”

I took the card from her, brows furrowed. “I’m still going to need more details than that.”

“The Marigold Club is, ah, how do I say this? It’s where rich women go to ‘drink tea’,” she made some air quotes with perfectly manicured fingers, “which is just code for gossip, make backroom deals and ogle the servers - who usually work there for no more than a year before being snatched up by modeling agencies.” She rolled her eyes. “But. It’s highly exclusive. They only invite 3 new members a year and most of them are legacies. So, I need you to accept this in person tonight, so I get access to the members only website and network. Those are worth so much more than hot servers and high tea.”

“That’s amazing. Congratulations on the invitation!” I read through the swirly text. High tea at 9pm. That seemed late for tea and scones, but who was I to tell these high society ladies when to sip their Earl Grey.

“This is all you. I don’t know how you managed to get on Scarlett Ashton’s radar, but I’m glad you did.”

“Who?”

“She’s on the membership committee. Marilyn Sterling handles legacies, Poppy Wellington looks into member referrals, and Scarlett finds brand new candidates since she herself married into old money when she got hitched to Harlan Ashton.”

The name clicked into place, and I bit my tongue before the wordsCumslut Scarlettcrossed it. “I haven’t met her, but I’ve met her husband.” I didn’t say that she was a friend of Beck’s. I’d rather have Cordelia thinking that all it took to be accepted to these circles was leaving her house every now and again. That felt like less of a slap in the face than leaving the house, going to sex clubs, and sleeping with the right men.

“Amazing.” Cordelia clapped her hands together. “I’m loving this energy.”

“Cocktail attire for a tea party?” I flipped the card over, trying to find any more details on what I could expect tonight.

Cordelia shrugged and turned back to her screen, hammering away at her keyboard again. Alright, guess I was dismissed. Ten minutes later, I had pulled every dress from my closet and sat on the floor staring at my phone.

• frap sluts •

Del:

Where do I find a long-sleeved cocktail dress?

Tabitha:

Asos?

Defne:

EthicalOnlineShops.PDF

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