Page 88 of Cinderella Is Faking It

Scarlett rolled her eyes at me, unimpressed. “She’s a grown woman. Let her have some fun.” Scarlett was 6ft tall, wore 5-inch stiletto heels, and her nails were sharpened to points that could slash throats. It may have scared off lesser men, and while I usually admired her ability to stand her ground, she’d be about as difficult to get out of the way as a twig if she wasn’t careful.

“Scar, I swear to god,” I breathed.

“Try me.”

“Stockholm, 2019. Axent Grand.”

Hurt flashed across her features for a moment before she jutted her chin out. “That would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me.”

“Would it? Tell me, when did Harlan agree to open your marriage? Two years ago?”

“You have a girl in there, who doesn’t seem like she would date a man who blackmails his friends. Are you willing to chance that?”

I pulled out my phone and had the video on my screen within ten seconds, turning it around for Scarlett to see. Her taped moans filled the hallway outside the Lavender Room, and the blood drained from her face. Yeah, getting fucked by a stranger in a closed hotel bar was fun right until you realized that there were security cameras.

“You delete every copy of that video,” she hissed.

“The second I have her out of here safe and sound.”

“Fine.” She stepped aside. “You better put a ring on her finger if you’re ready to ruinmymarriage for her.”

“That’s the plan.”

Del was draped over her chair, chin resting on its back, eyes closed, shoveling vanilla ice cream into her mouth. Her dress was soaked through up to her waist and pushed up enough to expose the bruises on her thighs, but nobody was lucid enough to register them. Her naked feet tapped against the marble floors with a rhythm only she could hear. “What happened to your dress, sweetheart?” I asked, crouching down in front of her.

Her eyes flew open. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“It’s high-high tea,” she whispered, chin not lifting from where it rested.

“Where are your shoes?” I asked, running a hand over her cold ankle.

“Oh!” She beamed up and jerked around, spoon pointing at the glass doors at the other end of the room. “There’s a fountain.”

That would also explain the state of her dress. “Alright. Come on, you promised me a sleepover on my sofa.”

Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to piece together the fragments of our conversation from before. “You’re not naked.”

“Yeah, they let me in fully clothed.” I chuckled and pulled her off the chair, fixing her dress around her thighs. We’d have to keep that thing around. It tightly hugged her ass, highlighting that gorgeous waist to hip ratio.

“Do you want ice cream?” she asked, twisting in my arms, and picking up another bowl off the table. “It’s so tasty.”

“That’s not a good idea.” I eyed the sprinkles that topped off the half-melted vanilla sundae – less of the chocolate, more of the cannabis variety.

A few minutes later, Del was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, and I pulled the seat belt around her while she ran a fingertip up and down the curve of my ear. “I have a secret,” she whispered.

“I have many,” I replied. One less now that I’d delete Scarlett’s video off the cloud.

“I have two secrets.” Her hand slid from my ear to my hair. I should have just gotten into the driver’s seat and taken her home, but her eyes and hands on me were paralyzing in an excruciatingly delicious way.

“Anything I should know about?”

“No, no, he won’t bother me anymore. He’s been taken care of.”

Her words dropped into the silence of the car like a man falling in a hushed ring, the thud of his body echoing for a moment before the roar of the crowd started. The roar being the rush of blood in my ears.

“Who?” My voice could have sliced steel. Who had bothered her to a point of it being kept secret and how had he been taken care of? Considering that Yelchin, that incapable joke of a bodyguard, was nowhere to be seen, while Del was soaked through, barefoot and high, surrounded by strangers.What exactly was his idea oftaking careof someone?

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