Page 42 of One Night with Cinderella

“Now that sounds about right,” he said. “Raquel did not see my mother’s show of real emotion until after the wedding, and she dated Phillip Jr. for three years.”

“Hell, I lived with you all for five years and rarely saw it, but if you pay close attention, she has telltale signs about how she really feels,” she said.

“Like the death grip on some item while she smiles at you,” he offered.

She nodded. “Exactly,” she stressed.

Gabe dipped his head to press a kiss to her temple before he turned her to face him. “Come with me tonight just because I want to be able to look across the room and see you there,” he said in a low voice. “And there is nothing anyone can say or do to make me regret having you there with me.”

She raised up on the tip of her toes to rub her cheek against his before taking his hand in hers and leading him to the bathroom to shower and pleasure each other.

But her fears and mild anxiety on the upcoming event remained right there on the surface. She couldn’t ignore it. Not as they enjoyed breakfast or traveled to look at a small office in a converted warehouse in Brooklyn that she was considering using for her foundation. Nor when they enjoyed a light dinner at a restaurant before going back to her apartment to get dressed. Even up to the moment their hired car service pulled up in front of the town house.

As Gabe helped her from the rear of the SUV and she looked up at the impressive structure with its intricate detailing, she searched inside herself to see if in hindsight she had been happy during her time working there. She had. With the job had come a stability she had never known before.

“Ready?”

Monica glanced over at Gabe and then looked down at the long-sleeved silk chiffon dress she wore. With its plunging neckline, a dreamy dusty rose-and-cream print design and short flounced hem, she felt beautiful and sexy. The cut fit her small breasts and curvy hips well. “How do I look?” she asked.

“Perfect,” he assured her, raising her hand in his to press a kiss to the back.

“Good,” she said.

The front door opened and Cole stepped out onto the porch in an all-navy suit and tie. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said on his phone before ending the call.

Monica felt so nervous that she focused on each step they took, careful not to stumble in her four-inch strappy heels.

“Hello, stranger,” Cole said as he reached for a gold case from his inside pocket and placed a cigar between his teeth.

“I just saw you the night before last,” Gabe reminded him as they briefly tapped fists in greeting.

Cole’s gaze shifted to Monica. He did a double take and then his eyes widened in surprise before dipping to take in their entwined hands. “Money and getting away from this family—well, most of us—has done you good,” he said.

“Hello, Cole,” she said.

He inclined his head in greeting as he smiled, then he turned and opened the front door.

“I thought you were leaving?” Gabe asked as they joined him on the top step.

“And miss Mama slip into full Stepford Wife mode? No. This should be fun,” he said as they stepped into the marble foyer.

Gabe held her hand a little tighter.

Monica took a deep steadying breath. “No worries. I got this,” she said, hoping she truly did. “Fortunately, foster care taught me how to adapt to new situations.”

Delicate piano music mingling with the conversation of those in attendance welcomed them once they stepped into the living room.

“Good luck, kiddo,” Cole said to her before moving past them to claim a drink from the bar.

There were about fifty people scattered about the room with drinks in hands and fashion on display. Monica recognized many of them. And as the chatter began to die down, she realized they also recognized her—whether from her work as the Cress maid or from seeing her image exploited by the paparazzi. Either way, the stares and the looks of surprise were disconcerting.

Gabe took a step forward, but Monica felt rooted in place. He stroked her skin with his thumb, and she forced herself to move alongside him toward where his parents stood before the grand fireplace. Phillip’s frown was clear and Nicolette’s grip on her flute was tight enough for the skin covering her knuckles to thin.

Here we go.

“Gabriel and Monica, you’re finally here,” Nicolette said, with an artificially bright smile as she waved them over with her free hand.

Oh, she’s quick.

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