Page 43 of One Night with Cinderella

Monica did not miss that she whispered something in Phillip Sr.’s ear that led him to try his best to flip his frown. His failed attempt was almost comical.

The chatter resumed, but they were aware all eyes were on them as they reached the couple.

Gabe freed her as he pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek and extended his hand to his father, giving him a hard stare daring him to ignore it. “You both remember Monica?” he said.

“Of course,” Phillip Sr. said, leaning in to deliver an air-kiss to her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Cress,” Monica said, hearing her own nervousness. “And you look beautiful as always.”

And she did. Nicolette’s rose-gold metallic dress fit her tanned skin and dusty-blond hair streaked with silver.

But beyond the beauty, in the depths of her blue eyes, Monica saw her annoyance. Her anger. Her shock. Behind the smile a million questions were flying through the woman’s head. All of the who, what, where, when, and perhaps most important, why.

Of that Monica was sure. She notched her chin a little higher, pulling from the toughness she’d developed as a foster kid. I got this, she reassured herself.

Nicolette took in the subtle move and smiled before giving Gabe a look that promised him there was more to come later. “Enjoy yourselves,” she said, wrapping her arm around her husband’s to guide him away.

“Your mother deserves an Oscar,” she said.

Gabe laughed. “And my father looks like he needs an enema.”

“Absolutely,” Monica agreed.

He faced her and reclaimed her hand.

“Everyone is staring,” she whispered up to him.

“That’s because you’re so beautiful,” he said, stroking her inner palm with his thumb.

Then why did it take you five years to see me?

“Champagne?”

Monica looked at a middle-aged woman in a gray uniform holding a tray of champagne-filled flutes. “No, thank you,” she said with a warm smile.

She felt uncomfortable being served when she used to be the one doing the serving. She remembered all too well how much she hated that part of her job. She didn’t doubt the Cresses’ new housekeeper felt the same.

“Thank you, Felice,” Gabe said as he took a flute from the tray.

“Yes, thank you, Felice,” Monica said, being sure to look the woman in the eye and acknowledge her more than she’d ever been in the same scenario.

“You’re welcome,” Felice said with a nod and smile before moving on.

“You want something else to drink?” Gabe asked.

“Actually,” she began, before reaching to take his flute and enjoy a full sip, “you know I—”

“—love champagne,” they finished in unison.

But then Gabe frowned in obvious confusion over why she hadn’t just taken a flute from Felice.

Monica looked about the room over the rim of the glass. Phillip Jr. and Raquel looked away when her eyes landed on them. Lucas sat beside the pianist, his eyes closed, swaying back and forth to an upbeat rendition of “You Are So Beautiful.” A pair of women whose names she chose to forget but whose pretentious faces were etched into her brain gave her odd looks. She responded with a high eyebrow raise. Sean was in the center of a small crowd who looked at him in slight rapture as he spoke. And Cole, still sitting on the steps, raised his snifter of brown liquor in a toast to her, making her smile.

Felice walked up to them carrying a tray of heavy hors d’oeuvres.

Again, Monica politely declined, earning her a brief, odd look from the housekeeper.

“Mr. Cress, your father would like you and your brothers to join him in the study,” she said.

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