Page 61 of The Cinderella Secret
“How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked. He looked at the moving elevator numbers and felt a kick of adrenaline. Now wasn’t really the time to be having this discussion with Ella. Also, at the moment he felt like Ella could have whatever she wanted.
“Seriously?” she demanded, still holding onto his wrist and pulling him like a balloon on a string. He tried to quicken his pace. He needed to step up. “If I had time to slap you, I would,” she said, opening the door to the stairs. “But you clearly can’t take anymore brain damage.”
There was a bellow from the man they’d left on the floor behind them. Ella pulled Aiden into the darkened stairwell. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light of the streetlamps coming in from the high, multi-paned windows at the end of the stairwell, but it was a relief from the buzzing fluorescents in the room they had just left. They had barely gone half a flight when they saw flashlights coming up toward them. Aiden took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Time to get back in the fight.
“Um,” said Ella, freezing on the landing and watching the flashlights come up toward them.
Aiden swung open the window next to him and looked down into the open maw of the dumpster two and a half stories beneath them.
“Too bad you’re not wearing your Cinderella dress,” he said.
“What?”
He picked Ella up and threw her out the window. She went out with a small shriek and he watched her land. Just as he was about to go after her, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Without turning around, he pushed back and elbowed at the same time. The man grunted and stumbled, taking a step off the landing so Aiden could turn and sent him all the way down with a kick. The man behind him avoided the flying body and lunged at Aiden. Aiden side-stepped and punched. The first man came back and grabbed at his arm, but managed to snare only his sleeve. Aiden heard a rip as sweatshirt tore. He kicked out again, then punched. He heard the door above him slam open. This was not going well. He grabbed the first man, head-butted him and then threw him into the second. Then he kicked them both down the stairs. He sprinted toward the window and was over the sill and falling just as the third man came running down the stairs, hand out-stretched to grab him.
He landed in something unidentifiable and disgusting, but at least Ella’s ass was in front of him. She was trying to climb out of the dumpster but seemed to have one foot stuck in a garbage bag. He put his hand on her ass and pushed, noting the firm yet soft qualities of his handful and trying to ignore it. He climbed out after her. There was paper in her hair and she was missing a shoe.
“Next time,” she said, yanking off the other shoe, and waving it at him, “a little warning would be nice.”
“There’s not going to be a next time,” he snapped.
There was a shout from the front door of the building and Aiden grabbed her hand and began to run.
“Did you bring a car?” she demanded.
“I took a Lyft,” he said as he attempted to shake off his pounding head. Headbutting that guy really hadn’t helped the headache situation. “Shut up and run.”
They ran four blocks before they found a street busy enough to have cabs on it, though it took another block before they found one willing to stop for them.
“Rough night?” asked the cab driver suspiciously as they climbed in.
“You could say that,” said Ella. “Can you go to—”
“Trios Hotel,” cut in Aiden and she looked surprised. He glared at her, daring Ella to argue.
“Sure,” said the cabbie.
“Aiden,” she began.
“We’ll talk at the hotel,” he said.
She threw her hands up in a clear gesture of frustration, but said nothing. Aiden sat back in the seat and ignored her. Then he looked at his sleeve and her ripped skirt. Her single shoe was still clutched in one hand. He took out his phone and dialed Claude.
“Hey, Claude,” he said. “It’s Aiden.”
“Ah, Aiden. What can I do for you this evening?”
Claude was the Deveraux dresser. He was French and possibly a saint, or at least a genius. And he was probably one of the few non-related people that all of the Deveraux trusted. Aiden had occasionally tried to pry secrets about Evan and Jackson out of him and had gotten nowhere. He assumed that the same veil of secrecy applied to him.
“Clothes,” said Aiden.
“What else would it be?” replied Claude.
“Usual mix. At the hotel.”
Claude clucked disapprovingly. “Should I include a first aid kit as well?”
“No. I’m fine. It’s just the clothes that took a beating this time. But I’m going to need a second set for…” he glanced at Ella, “a woman. Size two?”
