Page 46 of One Night with Cinderella

Translation: Do I belong out there with the guests or in the kitchen with the staff?

She knew where she felt most comfortable.

Felice used tongs to set an array of hors d’oeuvres on a saucer and handed it to Monica. “And you didn’t hear it from me, and I will deny if asked, but that little gathering upstairs is all about you,” she said before taking the tray of treats out to the guests.

As Jillian went back to cooking, Monica enjoyed a slider and eyed the elevator. She wiped her fingertips with a napkin and checked to make sure no one in the living room noticed when she made her way toward it. As she took it one flight up to the second floor, she almost convinced herself she had every right to hear what was being said about her. Knowing the elevator opened up directly into the master bedroom of Nicolette and Phillip Sr., she continued up to the third floor via the stairs, careful to make sure the double doors leading into the suite of rooms was closed.

“Is she the reason for your insanity lately?”

Monica winced as Phillip Sr.’s deep and gravelly voice echoed through the wood. She moved closer to the door and prayed no one stormed out and caught her.

“She’s the reason I’m happy,” Gabe returned.

Aw. Same.

“Happy or horny?”

“Both.”

Someone laughed and Monica just knew it was Cole.

Silence reigned and Monica wondered what was going on that she could not see.

“There are women you wed and those you bed. Know the difference. And that goes for all of you,” Phillip Sr. said.

“Don’t disrespect her in that way,” Gabe said, his voice hard and his anger clear. “I tolerate a lot from you, but I will not put up with that—”

“Tolerate!”

Monica jumped, feeling as if Phillip Sr.’s voice booming against the walls was enough to rattle the entire house. She moved from the door and hurried down the stairs, not wanting to hear any more. Wishing she hadn’t dared to hear any of it at all.

On the second floor, she paused and pressed her back against the wall as she struggled to slow and steady her breath. Looked down upon by his friends. Judged by Nicolette. Insulted by Phillip Sr. Defended by Gabriel.

The latter made her smile.

She made her way back to the kitchen via the elevator and tried not to let her fears be exploited by her current company. But as she reentered the living room and claimed a new flute from a tray Felice carried around the room, she felt on display.

“Chin up,” Felice advised.

They shared a smile.

“Aw, the new maid and the old maid have a little moment.”

Monica stiffened before she turned to find one of the socialites standing behind her. She missed not one cliché detail, from her hair to her designer clothing. Those things were clearly her armor. She just wondered what the woman was hiding behind them. Possibly insecurity? That thought led to Monica giving her a pitying smile.

The young woman’s face tightened in anger. “Could you fetch me a dirty martini?” she asked, her tone mocking.

Monica wasn’t sure of the reason for the woman’s anger with her and was bored by it and her. She took a sip of her champagne as she turned to take her leave. She gasped to find Gabe standing beside her. He pressed a reassuring hand to the middle of her back, and she felt as if he’d pushed a battery into it and given her new life.

Take nothing off anyone.

“Thank God, you’re back,” she said, turning to face the woman who had appointed herself her nemesis. “Suddenly the air is less vile.”

The woman stiffened and released a harsh gasp.

Gabe pierced her with his grayish-blue eyes. “Go play your games elsewhere, Naomi,” he warned in a cold voice.

Even Monica was chilled by it. She felt relief, like a schoolchild saved from a bully, as the woman clenched both her jaw and the crystal flute of champagne before walking away.

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