Page 94 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“Nobody is going down.” I snapped the folder shut again and slid it back across the desk. “Destroy this. Call Isaac. It’s time for him to put his diplomatic connections to good use.”

I had already rocked the boat with Scarlett to get Del out of the Marigold, but apparently, I was dead set on destroying all my friendships. I could have found a different way out of this, given time and resources, one that didn’t require Isaac to become the man he never wanted to be, but I didn’t have time. Not when Del was living under the same roof as Victor Yelchin. I didn’t need to knowhowhe was connected to all of this, to figure out that the consequences for Blondie could be catastrophic if he so much as suspected we were looking into him. If this had landed on my desk weeks ago, I wouldn’t have trusted a word out of Del’s mouth, figuring they worked together to target me just like I had targeted her. She just wasn’t that good an actress.

Grinding my molars together, I pulled my phone out and opened the text chain with Del. I’d have to get her out of that house before Isaac had the chance to set things in motion with his family.

THIRTY-EIGHT

“Your mail,”Victor dropped a stack of envelopes and leaflets at the foot of my bed, all addressed to my studio, which he frequently checked on. This had become routine since I wasn’t supposed to go home.

“Thank you.” I grabbed the large, bulky envelope sticking out from the rest. It had the Truman Academy crest on it. I’d signed the work contract digitally, so this had to be my onboarding package. My badge, my map of the school, and whatever else the HR department of one of the country’s most prestigious schools whipped up. I clutched the envelope - and I didn’t want to open it. I should have been tearing through the paper, studying every detail of my schedule, starting a new project book for the school year, picking out my highlighters and ordering new sticky notes.

“Everything alright?” Victor asked, his lime green eyes burrowing into me.

“Yeah,” I exhaled and turned the envelope around to show him, “it’s work.”

“Hmm.” He nodded and turned, no comment or opinion. “Cordelia wants to talk to you before you go.”

“Thanks.” I dropped the letter back onto the pile and turned my attention back to the weekender I’d been in the middle of packing. I’d deal with my new future on Monday. For now, I could focus on rolling my clothes and sorting them into neat packing cubes.

Beck had convinced me to widen my travel radius to 85 miles, so he could take me to Cape Cod for the weekend. It was at least within state lines, and he’d promised his house there was on mainland. While Martha’s Vineyard might have sounded nice, I wouldn’t have crossed any open water with a fake ID either.

When I was finished packing, I left my bag at the foot of the stairs and checked on Cordelia in her office.

“How could you be so fucking careless?” Cordelia’s voice was barely raised, but this was the first time I’d heard her curse, and I flinched back.

“What does it matter?” I asked, waving the printed article through the air. Apparently, someone had snapped a picture of me carrying a huge white bag out of the wedding dress shop, where I’d gotten my high tea outfit. Between being seen with Beck at multiple events and these pictures, rumors were brewing, but they were just that. Rumors. “There’s no ring on my finger. There’s no wedding announcement. I’ll just let people know that I was there for a friend and the rumors will die.”

“I don’t have friends!”

Cordelia’s reply hung in the air between us. Four words that had nothing to do with the article. A pained confession too thick for the few minutes we had before Beck would show up to whisk me off for a few days.

“You have me,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “I actually consider us friends.”

“You’re basically my employee.”

I tried not to let the words sting because she was right, but she was also unaware of how much that didn’t matter. “So is Victor.”

“Yes, he is. And both of you should remember that.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, “I’m sorry that I went into a bridal shop. I will do whatever you need me to do to fix this, and then I’ll be out of your hair in like two weeks.”

“Being perceived as Beck’s girlfriend is fine, Delilah, but you can’t go around making it seem like there’s a marriage on the horizon. A marriage is a contract, and a contract has business repercussions. Why don’t you get that?”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’ll take Victor to an event next week if you want. Make it look like I’m totally over Beck.”

“No,” Cordelia huffed, “we’ll get through the next two weeks.”

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my eyes. “Speaking of, could you please make an appointment with whatever hairdresser you deem discreet enough? Ginger hair, bangs, and a pair of costume glasses, and nobody will ever see this version of Cordelia Montgomery again.”

“Del, it’s-” She cut herself off, then picked her phone up. “I’ve already booked the appointment for you. August 26th, the day after the White Ball. It’s a Saturday, and I blocked out the whole afternoon in case the color doesn’t take. You’ll still have all Sunday to move back home. Forwarding it now.”

The date burned itself into my mind. August 26th. Sixteen days before I stopped being Cordelia Montgomery. Under different circumstances, I would have asked more about the White Ball, but all I could think was that two weeks with Beck were both too long, becauseevery minutespent with him would make it harder to detach myself, and not long enough, because I wanted to spend aninfinity of minuteswith him.

“If the two of you are done, Mr. Beckett’s car just pulled up.” Victor announced from the doorway.

“MisterBeckett?” I grimaced at him. He’d never called him that. Was he getting sick?

“How long have you been standing there?” Cordelia asked.

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