Glass Ceilings: A Modern Steamy Cinderella Fairy Tale (Fairly Twisted Tales Book 1)

by Lux Miller

  Though a mask obscures his face, as is the custom for a Halloween party, it’s obvious that the man is attractive. From here, I can see the sharp angles that create a chiseled jaw. And that’s not the only thing about him that’s chiseled. The cut of his costume is anything but modern and leaves very little to the imagination. He walks past the ushers without even acknowledging them and struts right up to me.

  I look around, trying to see who he’s marching over here to see with such purpose. I smooth down my dress and hair so that I don’t look like I just elbowed my way through a mob of angry New Yorkers, but the man reaches out and grabs hold of my hand gently before I can tame the rebellion out of my locks. He smiles beneath his mask as he drops into a low, sweeping bow. “My lady…”

  SIX

  Eli

  The way Ashley snatches her hand out of mine when I address her has me concerned. She wasn’t this jumpy outside. Then again, we weren’t standing in a room full of hundreds of people outside. Hundreds of people who’re staring at us with bated breath as I introduce myself to her… again. The look of confusion that flits across her face reveals that she doesn’t recognize me and that’s probably a good thing.

  As I rise from my deep bow, I extend my smile from beneath my mask. She’s eyeing me curiously, probably trying to anticipate my next move. To throw her off, I tug on her hand and she stumbles against me with a gasp. I catch her easily. Years of toiling the land has left my muscles defined and capable. There’s no way I’m letting the pretty princess hit the floor.

  She pulls back from me as soon as her body collides with mine, but I’m not giving up that easily. Despite the prying eyes that are watching our every move, I wrap one strong arm around her lower back and pull her back against me. A sharp puff of air spills past her lips, and her gaze shoots up to mine.

  She narrows her eyes at me, but doesn’t attempt to pull away again. I don’t know if she’s humoring me or trying to save face while everyone’s eyes are on us, but I’ll take what I can get. Without this mask and elaborate costume that isn’t even mine, she’d never give me a second glance. I’m going to milk this opportunity for everything it’s worth.

  She’s putting off a vibe like she’s trying to decide if I’m a creeper or someone who’s genuinely interested in her. Everybody here knows this Halloween party is a thinly-veiled attempt by her father to get her married off to some semi-acceptable socialite. I’d be willing to bet that daddy’s little princess isn’t too keen on following daddy’s orders. And I’m sure she’s on high-alert for the weirdos like Trevor who are out to make a buck off everything.

  When I loop my second arm around her and hold her against me, I expect her to pull away from me. Instead, she relaxes in my embrace and lets it happen. She hasn’t let her guard down fully, though. I can still see the concern on her face as her eyes search my face for an indication of who I may be. That’s not something she needs to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  I’m so far below her on the social ladder, that I wouldn’t even stand a chance. That’s if she evens accepts me. There’s no way her uptight father would ever let his little girl settle down with the ruffian who bleeds his stepfather dry of all of his hard-earned money. Never mind that it’s my stepsisters who’re the insatiable leeches. And that my stepfather is getting paid for my work. One day, I’m going to open my mouth and expose all of their secrets. But today isn’t that day.

  Today is the day that I enjoy the feeling of Ashley’s soft body pressed up against the muscular ridges of mine. Even if just for a moment, I’m going to savor the feeling of finally crossing the line in the sand. The great divide that ensures that Ashley and I will never work out. She’s New York royalty, and I’m a pauper who’s here on borrowed time.

  Once midnight arrives, the protection of my benevolent benefactor will expire. That means that if Trevor figures out who I am between now and then, I’m a dead man walking the minute the clock strikes twelve. I have to make sure that I do what I need to do in the next… I check my watch and exhale deeply… two hours.

  It’s just after ten pm and the line of suitors forming at the edge of the dance floor means I need to act fast if I hope to keep her attention on me and not them. This might be my only chance to break free of the chains that’ve bound me to poverty. If I can convince Ashley to marry me, I can finally step out of my stepfather’s shadow and make a name for myself. Sounds crazy I know to be thinking of marriage like this is some kind of fairy tale.

  Marrying Ashley wouldn’t be escaping the flames at all. In fact, it’d be out of the frying pan and into the fire, because Pierce Rogers would become my father-in-law. Meaning Thanksgiving dinner would be seriously awkward if Trevor makes good on his promise to release the incriminating video of Helen and I making a midnight snack out of each other.

  To be fair, though, it was years ago. I was younger and much stupider at seventeen, a young impressionable boy easily seduced by an older woman. That’d be my cover story, at least. Not sure if I’m really any wiser now than I was then, but I’d like to think I at least make better decisions. And a man could make a much worse decision than marrying Ashley Rogers.

  Sure, she’s a bit snooty and acts like she’s better than everyone else. But I think deep down, she’s got a softer side that she doesn’t get to show. It’s hard not to turn into a horribly ugly person when you’re put on a pedestal your entire life. Lacey and Layla aren’t even rich by any normal standards. They’re middle class at best, and they’re still snooty, sassy little bitches who think their shit doesn’t stink.

  At least Ashley doesn’t put on a front of who she is. This isn’t the first time I’ve ever seen her in my entire life. It’s just the first time I’ve been close enough to touch her. She’s the spoiled child of a billionaire who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She’s pretty par for the course, to be honest.

  She may lash out inappropriately, but it’s hard to be heard when your parents don’t want to listen. Sometimes drastic times call for drastic measures, and I honestly don’t fault her for getting her father’s attention any way she can. Sometimes you gotta yell a little louder, so the ones in the back can hear you - and when they do finally get the message, they don’t always like what you have to say.

  I get it. She’s ill about the social structure that keeps both of us prisoner. She’s stuck among the aristocrats and social elite who think that their money is their best friend. Money can’t buy happiness. It can buy a lots of things, but there’s a reason there’s a market for fool’s gold. The rich will do anything to stay rich.

  I’m on the other end of the social ladder, fighting just to hang on. Honestly, I’d probably give my left nut to get to live in Ashley’s shoes for a week. I don’t think I’d want to stay there. The lifestyle of the rich and famous just isn’t my thing. It’d be fun for a bit, but I know it would grow as tiresome managing too much money as it does managing too little. The grass may seem greener on the other side, but that’s just because it has more weeds.

  Ashley nudges me as the song ends. I was lost so deep in my thoughts that I wasn’t even paying attention. Somehow, we’re now on the opposite end of the dance floor from where we started, and I can hear the other suitors complaining already about how they’re not being given an equal opportunity to woo the woman of the hour.

  I raise an eyebrow, though Ashley can’t see it behind my mask. Chuckling, I nudge her back, “Your adoring public awaits.”

  She rolls her eyes as she takes three steps back from me. We both stand there awkwardly in silence for several heartbeats until I finally muster up the gumption to make a move. I grab her hand before she can walk away from me and bring it to my lips.

  She watches me with intrigue, her pretty pout twisting into something of a salacious grin as I wrap my hand around hers, where I pressed my lips to her skin moments before. I slide my hand around hers until our palms are touching and let my gaze lock onto hers. With a sly grin, I cast my eyes at our hands and smirk when she pulls her han
d away from mine.

  She’s discreetly palmed my offering in her own hand and casually drops it into the tiny clutch that’s strung across her body. It hangs daintily at her side, and she snaps it closed as she glances over her shoulder, then back at me. “One hour,” she says as she walks away.

  I immediately glance at my watch and my heart thunders in my chest. One hour from now is going to be eleven-twenty, which is going to be cutting it dangerously close to my prescribed time limit. I haven’t seen much of Trevor since I arrived, but I know he’s likely still lurking around here somewhere.

  The longer Trevor is here, the worse it bodes for me. I’m not scared of getting caught so much as I’m anxious about what Trevor will do if he finds out I had the audacity to show up here, despite his attempts to thwart my chances. He didn’t specifically forbid me from coming - he just implied that it’d be a bad idea on my part.

  I never was one to listen to “fatherly advice,” so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that I’m choosing to ignore him now. I just have to avoid him long enough to act first and ask for forgiveness later. What’s the worst he can do? Tarnish my already crappy reputation? The one thing he truly holds over my head is only a weapon if Pierce Rogers can get a hold of me, before I can get a hold of his daughter and make her mine...

  SEVEN

  Ashley

  It’s a small miracle escaping the party downstairs. Every man in the place is presumably here to try to marry me. If that’s not weird enough, some of the men who are here are not only single for quite obvious reasons, they’re more than twice my age. Even in my desperation to get out from under my father’s thumb, I’ve no desire to spend my nights shagging a dude whose pubes might be older than me. That’s just gross.

  Surprisingly, I was able to sneak out during an intermission while the caterer refilled the refreshment stations. It’s amazing how quickly people flock to free booze and hot wings. In the commotion of everyone launching themselves at the fresh food, I snuck out of the Edison Ballroom and into the adjoining Hotel Edison. I’d recognize the card-key that the mystery man slipped to me anywhere.

  I chuckle as I slip into the elevator and punch the button for the eighth floor. It’s no Penthouse Suite, and I bet my father would be livid if he ever found out I’d stepped foot into a room reserved for a mere “commoner.” It almost makes my inside boil with anticipation to see what’s in store for me. The elevator dings and I step out in the hallway. It’s with a slight pang of disappointment that I realize this part of the hotel is completely different from the accommodations I’m accustomed to seeing.

  For starters, the entire hallway of the eighth floor could use a fresh coat of paint, and the carpet is dingy like it’s walked on by a lot of feet. Truthfully, it probably has. It’s not like the regular rooms at the Edison are beyond the reach of the common man. Most rooms top out at three-hundred dollars a night. It’s not until you get to the twentieth story and higher that you find the thousand-dollar a night rooms.

  Even then, the swanky upper floor suites aren’t completely out of reach if someone plans for it. As such, the carpet, walls, and amenities likely see much less use on the upper floors than the room I’m approaching with hesitation on the eighth floor. I guess the saying ‘You only live once’ is going to be my motto for the night. I walk up to the door and insert the key-card. The light flashes green, and I don’t hesitate to walk into the room.

  As I step inside and let the door close behind myself, I frown. The room is completely dark, and nobody is anywhere to be seen. I’m about to turn around and get the heck out of the creepy as fuck room when a pair of strong arms encircle my waist from behind. I let out a startled squeak as the arms tighten around my waist and yank me back against a hard body.

  Despite the probable danger of the situation, I can’t help the ache that pools low in my belly as a male voice chides me, “You should really be more careful when entering dark hotel rooms under the request of a complete stranger.”

  My muscles tighten, but I don’t try to pull away from the man yet. I probably couldn’t get out of his grasp anyway. He has his arms firmly around me. As I rest my hands on the forearms that are crossed across my stomach, I can feel the corded muscle that snakes along the length of them. This man is strong from toiling work. The thought that this man could overpower me at any moment lights a fire in my core that makes me squirm as wetness seeps from inside me and soils my pristine panties.

  Despite the alarm bells in my head clanging around, I don’t resist, and the man presses his lips to my neck in a line of kisses that ends just above the valley of my breasts. He releases his grip on me and drops his hands to my hips, tugging me back against him. I gasp in surprise as a rock-hard bulge presses against my lower back. I know I shouldn’t give in to his games, but it’s been a while for me, and the familiar scent of man that floods my nostrils is unlike the rich boys who pay thousands of dollars in musky colognes.

  He trails his hands up my sides painstakingly slowly like we’re in the middle of a choreographed dance. Turning me to face him, I worry that he can feel my heart thundering away in my chest. He doesn’t give me any indication if he can or not, but before I can say something to him, his mouth covers mine in a needy kiss. My lips form a surprised ‘O’ and he takes it as an invitation to delve his tongue between them, running it along my teeth.

  Pushing his massive body against mine, he forces me to take several steps back until my back collides with the wall next to the king-sized bed. The force of me hitting the wall knocks the phone to the floor, the angry sound of a busy signal pulsing from the unseated receiver. He growls as he tears his lips from mine, sliding his kisses down my neck as he cages me against the wall with his arms.

  “Tell me, princess… what makes you think you won’t regret this decision come morning?”

  I shrug, answering honestly. “I never said I wouldn’t, but right now, I frankly don’t give a damn. Besides, what makes you think you won’t be just as remorseful when you wake up and realize you’ve fucked the town whore?”

  He chuckles and grabs hold of my wrist with his hand. He snakes our arms between our bodies and forcefully presses my palm against the enormous bulge protruding from the front of his pants. I shudder and grasp it as he huskily retorts, “Maybe you’re not the only one tired of giving a damn, princess. We can’t all handle bullshit like your father…”

  My eyes snap shut with a whimper as his other hand wanders back up the front of my dress, snagging the top edge of my dress and tugging down hard enough to expose my breast as the flimsy sleeve of the dress slips down my shoulder. Without another word, he leans his head down and captures my nipple in his hot mouth. With deft precision, he swirls his tongue around the sensitive nub. It pebbles between his lips as a wanton moan slips between my lips.

  He lets go of my hand on his crotch and quickly slides that hand around to my back, lowering the zipper of my ridiculously expensive dress. He pulls his head away from my body, and my nipple slips out of his mouth with an audible ‘pop’ that sends shivers down my spine.

  It’s too dark in the room to get a good look at his face, but from what I can see, the man’s face is as chiseled as his arms. His jawline is full of sharp angles, but though he’s not wearing the mask he wore earlier in the darkness, I can’t see many other details about his features.

  He steps away from me and tugs on my dress. I can’t make out much more than the whites of his eyes, but it’s obvious that they are focused on my body as my dress slips to the floor in a puddle of taffeta and tulle. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds something like a wild animal and spins me around.

  His fingers work down the lacing of the corset with ease. To my surprise, the corset slips off my body as easily as the dress did. He turns me back around and brings his hands to my chest, cupping my breasts in his palms.

  I shiver as he kneads my breasts with his calloused hands. Despite my plain white cotton panties still clinging to me, the crotch of them is wet from
his attention to my needy body. He nips at my bottom lip, his hands sliding to my hips. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my panties and lowers them to the middle of my thighs.

  Before I can protest the fact that I’m damn-near naked and he’s still fully dressed, he pulls away from me. I can’t really see what he’s doing, but moments later when his warmth presses up against my body, it’s full skin to skin contact.

  I yelp softly as he lifts me off the floor and lays me across the bed with my legs bent at the knee over the side of it. I feel him yank off my panties. He rests one hand on each of my knees and pushes my legs apart.

  “I can smell your arousal from here, Ashley… tell me, is this what you want?”

  Squirming on the bed, I whimper. “Fucking hell, if you have protection, yes…”

  He chuckles in response, and I feel a surge of air brush across my clit. I buck my hips in response, my ass lifting off the bed. As I do, he takes a long, languid lick of my slit, and I immediately drop my body back to the bed with a groan. He takes that as his open invitation and presses a finger inside me.