The iced liquid made a frigid splash against her. Ella held her arms aloft, mortified at the red juice dripping from her hair, her lashes, her nose and lips and down her neck. An ice cube slid down the front of her dress.
All Ella could think of was Grammy and how much she had sacrificed to get this dress for her. And how Pris wouldn’t have cared even if she’d known.
Pris returned the goblet to the table, unabashed. “Shame,” she said. “Guess you’d better go home and get to cleaning where you belong.”
Humiliation pulsed in her skull. She managed to blink away the liquid enough to peer at the surrounding guests. Some were dancing, but others gaped at her and Pris as if wondering whether or not they should intervene.
Pris folded her arms, standing back with complete satisfaction. “Clock is ticking, Ella. You wouldn’t want to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
All sense flew, making way for the sheer humiliation coursing through her. There was so much she wanted to say, but she couldn’t even think. Tears welled in her eyes, rendering whatever was left of her makeup nonexistent. She captured Hawk’s glance before whirling and dashing from the ballroom.
***
Ella didn’t stop running until she reached the elevator. She pushed the button over and over again, uncertain where she was going, just that she needed to get as far away as she could.
A voice stilled her.
“You really want to climb in that thing again?”
Hawk. She knew he’d witnessed the humiliating event, but she never thought he’d follow her. Why? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in the ballroom? She wanted to go home, to wash the sticky punch from her skin, get out of her dress, and ugly cry where no one could see.
She plunged her face into her hands. Tears streamed along her cheeks. Undoubtedly, she had mascara and who knew what else running down her face.
“You remember what happened last time,” he said. He was still behind her, still talking. She got the feeling he was giving her time to wipe her cheeks, and so she did. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of white. A handkerchief. Hawk was offering a handkerchief to her. Who even carried one of those anymore?
“Thanks,” she said, cleaning up her face. The fabric smelled musky and darkly rich, like Hawk. Her fingers trembled, and black smudges and smears of lipstick and wine-red liquid colored the cloth. “And yes, I’m sure I want to get out of that ballroom.”
“Where are you going?”
The elevator. It’d been habit she supposed, to head for the lower level of the building in order to leave. It didn’t occur to her to return to the coatroom, swap out her heels for the boots she’d worn on her trek here, and head home. She’d only thought to escape somewhere in the building where no one could see what a mess she was.
His gaze was palpable, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet it. “I have to work.”
He slumped his tuxedoed, beautiful self against the wall. “That’s right, you said as much. I still don’t know which department would have you working right now. The building is shut down.”
“It’s not here,” she said with a sniff. She still couldn’t bear to face him. Weariness and defeat settled in. Her skin was sticky where the juice had spilled. “I really should go.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t even know your name.”
After a sniffle, she finally lifted her eyes to meet his crystal, snow-blue ones. They were filled with sympathy. With admiration and invitation.
How could they be? Did he not see what happened? The state of her dress, her messy face? Even so, his attention wasn’t on the spilled liquid. His gaze connected with hers.
“It’s Ella,” she said.
“No last name?”
“Nope.” She couldn’t figure out why, but she didn’t want to tell him. It wasn’t as though he would associate her with anyone if he knew it. She just wasn’t ready for him to know.
After a fleeting glance down her body, she took in the extent of the damage. Red had splotched the pink fabric. Never mind what it had taken for her grandma to get it. This stain was normal for her. She was ruined, blemished, a measly custodian who got pushed around by her family. Not good enough for anyone, least of all him.
The elevator opened, gaping, waiting.
“Ella,” Hawk said, peering toward the enclosed space before them. “I never thanked you properly for your help the last time we were in this thing.”
She shook her head. “It was nothing. I know what it’s like to feel like the walls are closing in.” Emotion lingered too near the surface. Her throat clamped, and she cursed herself for being so transparent.
He folded his arms, resting against the open door. “Now we’re talking about something else. Is everything okay? What happened in there? Who was that woman that did this to you?”
All she could do was stare. He was clean-cut and elegant in his white tux jacket and black shirt, tie and slacks, and she was stained and spoiled. What was he doing?
She couldn’t give him an answer. Go into her whole pathetic family dynamic? Not a chance.
The elevator made a screeching noise of protest. Hawk stepped forward, allowing it to close. Ella folded her arms and then remembering her dress, thought better of it.
Hawk frowned, sizing her up as if seeking for a solution. “I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but I have something you could change into. If you wanted.”
Ella wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. “You’re offering me clothes?”
He gave off an embarrassed laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
She well knew where they were kept. In his office. On the top floor.
In what was essentially a bedroom.
Temptation tingled in every one of her pores. She shouldn’t agree. She should thank him for the invitation, bid him goodnight, and get home to where her own clothes awaited. But possibility capered through, pricking her like an appendage that had fallen asleep and was just receiving blood flow once more.
Why not? She didn’t want to go home, not really. She refused to return to that ballroom. And after the way Pris treated her, after her last horrible conversation with Stina, her conversation with Grammy earlier pealed like a bell. She didn’t want to work for Stina, not anymore. She wanted as little to do with any of the Malus family as possible.
“All right then,” she said. “But I draw the line at boxer shorts.”
Hawk laughed and punched the elevator button again. It gaped open instantly, and Ella stepped into the elevator with him for a second time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ella knew Hawk’s office well. Probably better than he did. She knew how difficult it was to vacuum around his ferns near the window. She knew the placement of every photo, award, and knickknack on his shelves. And yes, she knew exactly where he kept the clothes he was about to offer her.
But she couldn’t exactly let on that she was privy to all those details, so she gave him her best first-time-in-here expressions of wonder and amazement, even adding comments on the office’s size. Men seemed to like that kind of thing.
“In here,” Hawk said, guiding her to the adjoined room beside the bathroom. An overstuffed futon draped with a blanket and a few throw pillows guarded the back wall. Across from it, a series of wall-length cabinets, a full-length mirror, and hooks holding a scarf and a blue coat waited. Several ties draped on the farthest hook. A large, flat-screen TV was suspended on the neighboring wall.
Ella circled the space, imagining him closing himself in here, settling in comfort after a long day of work when he didn’t want to return home. She hadn’t thought much about it in all the times she’d been here, but standing beside him now, her body sensing his proximity, and taking in the futon, the space was filled with sudden intimacy.
She was in his personal space. Alone with him.
Hawk made for the long cabinet beside the mirror. “Here,” he said, pulling it open to reveal a stack of drawers. “I’m
a sweats and T-shirt kind of guy when I come here to do expense reports or other tedious agendas. I promise, they’re clean.”
He removed a perfectly folded pair of black pants and a gray T-shirt from the drawer. His fingers brushed hers as he handed them over. “Better get out of that dress,” he added, locked in her gaze.
Heat splashed her skin. “Shouldn’t you leave first?”
His lips tugged upward. “I should, shouldn’t I?”
Ella slipped the stack of clothes, and her hands, from his grasp. She attempted to keep things casual, but the burning of him overrode her all too fast.
“That sounds perfect,” she said.
His brow quirked. “Undressing with me in here?”
“No! I mean—” She couldn’t think. He was scrambling her every thought. “I meant the sweats!”
He strutted back a step, looking far too pleased with himself. “But?”
“But, I mean, are you sure you won’t be jealous of me in comfy clothes while you’re still all dressed up?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I could change too. If you want me to.”
Good grief. They really needed to stop talking about undressing.
“You’ll miss the rest of your ball.” She withdrew another step. She needed distance from him. This conversation was becoming far too interesting.
He tugged the edge of his bowtie. It came loose and dangled from his collar. The single action held far too much sway over her. He really needed to get out of the room.
“This could be our very own ball,” he said. “I still want to dance with you.”
“In sweats and T-shirts?” she said.
“Why not?” He moved to the open drawer. In a swift motion, he retrieved another set of sweats and shirt, holding them to his side.
“I’ll just change out here,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the door.
“Okay.”
Ella’s face grew hotter. He sure wasn’t moving very fast. He wasn’t waiting for some kind of invitation, was he? She chewed her lip and stepped toward the door. Toward him.
Hawk retreated.
Another step. Another retreat.
The closer she got to him, the more tension sizzled between them. Hawk’s gaze was glued to hers, filled with tempting promises.
Ella reached. He leaned closer in response. His husky scent wafted toward her, his nearness maddening, his eyes flicking to her mouth.
Her hand found the doorknob beside him.
“I’ll be out in a second,” she said, allowing the door to roost him the rest of the way out.
***
Ella folded her dress carefully. The red, speckled stains saddened her, but on the scale of damaged things, a damaged dress was better than, say, targeting her reputation. Yes, she’d probably be eating ramen noodles at every meal for the next month to make up for what she’d spent on the fabric of the other dress, but it had also purchased an evening with Hawk. She wouldn’t have traded tonight for anything.
His sweats bagged around her shorter legs. The T-shirt had an American flag on it, and it hung to her thighs. She didn’t mind, not if he didn’t. Ella placed her dress beside her silver heels on the floor and checked her hair and makeup in the mirror. The tears had washed off most of it, but her eyes were shining, her skin luminous.
Anticipation made her entire body hum. She closed her eyes before the closed door and took in a few deliberate breaths. She was in Hawk’s office with him. He was waiting out there to dance with her.
Pinching oneself out of a dream seemed like a cheesy thing to do, but she was suddenly struck by the impulse. Ella shrugged her shoulders, rubbed her fingers against her palms, and touched her cheeks instead. Yep. This was really her. This was really happening.
With a fortifying breath, she opened the door.
She expected the lights to be their merriest bright, the way they’d been when Hawk had first turned them on. The only illumination now came from the upper lights above his desk, dimmed so the majority of the glow streamed from the immaculate Christmas tree in the corner. This was the first time she’d seen it lit.
Stillness muted everything, leaving room for strains of soft music from hidden speakers. Hawk sat in one of the leather armchairs on the rug in the room’s center, but at the sight of her, he arose.
With his blonde hair swept messily to one side, his toned body drastically changed from dressy to casual, and the comfortable stance he took, he was attractive enough. Add a kickback grin, and it was enough to render her nothing more than joints and pulses.
“Much better,” he said, his gaze raking over her.
She hugged her torso. “You too. Minecraft?”
He plucked the blue shirt with its multi-colored blocks on the front. “I have an Xbox stashed in that room.”
“So you’re a closet gamer?” she said, amused.
“That I am. If I hadn’t promised you a dance, I might suggest a marathon.”
She relaxed, loving the idea of Hawk hanging out on a couch with a game controller in his hands. He seemed so normal like this. So not billionaire.
“I’ve never played,” she admitted. She didn’t have much time for video games. In all honesty, she was surprised he did.
“That we must remedy,” he said.
“But?”
He inched closer. “But right now, you and I have a previous engagement.”
Ella moseyed toward him, her steps silent on the hardwood floor. “Where are we dancing?”
He offered her a hand and guided her toward the tree. The shades over his windows were drawn, offering them additional privacy. Positioned before him, her nerve endings began to stir. She craved what was to come, to feel his hands around her.
Hawk granted her unspoken desire. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her near.
Ella’s breath quickened, her knees slackening and growing weak.
“This feels forbidden, somehow,” she said, allowing her hands to rove up to his shoulders.
“Does it?”
“Mm-hmm.”
His hands closed at the small of her back, sending a shiver through her. She was too preoccupied to say anything else. It was so different seeing a person in a ballroom, surrounded by people, opposed to witnessing that same person in complete, casual seclusion.
She’d been alone with him in the elevator, and they’d shared a brief, unexpected conversation, but that had been tense and uncertain. This was so different. This was a hidden castle, abandoned and then suddenly discovered, where she wanted to explore, to familiarize herself with every aspect of him. His hidden love of video games. His courteous offer for her to change her clothes so he could still spend time with her. Who was Hawk Danielson, really?
She wasn’t sure how to ask, and honestly, the way time had seemed to still, she knew she could find out little by little. There was no rush.
Her attention shifted to his tree. “That is a beautiful tree,” she said.
“I have my staff do a lot for me, but this is one thing I like to do for myself.”
“Oh? You put up your own tree?”
His lips quirked. “I did, yeah. Put it up, decorated it. I spend more time here than I do at home, so I like to have slices of home here as much as possible.”
“Hence the sweats,” she said, tugging at the pants he lent her.
“They look great, by the way,” he said.
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
“I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, you were a stun gun in that get up you had earlier. But I like this look for you. Makes me wish we had time for more than a few dances.”
Her brows drew together. What was he saying? She’d been ready to put everything on hold for this moment. What did he have to get to? A family gathering, maybe?
“I need to be to the hospital in a few hours,” he said, answering her thoughts.
She tensed. “The hospital? Why? Are you—I mean, is everything okay?”
Maybe he had someone he needed to visit. He couldn’t have s
cheduled something for himself, could he?
“Yeah, sure it is. Nothing like that. It’s just that…” He dipped his head before lifting it again. The smoldering expression in his gaze knotted her stomach. “I’m playing Santa.”
Not what she’d expected to hear. “What?”
He chuckled, leading her in a circle beside the tree. “Every year I like to deliver candy to Harmony Children’s. But after talking to you in the elevator, you gave me a different idea.”
“I did? What idea is that?”
“I’m taking an Ever After Sweet Shoppe to them. I know many of the kids can’t leave, so I thought it might be a fun surprise for them to wake up to. Along with their pillowcases, of course.” He winked.
Ella was speechless. If she thought he was attractive before, it was nothing to hearing this. Maybe it was the soft spot she already had for those kids, but hearing someone like Hawk using his money to help others was nothing short of impressive.
“That is seriously amazing. They’re going to love that.”
The song changed. Soft cellos began singing out Silent Night. Hawk whispered her closer. She rested her head against his chest, drifting to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“And you?” His voice resonated through his chest. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
She’d been enjoying the distraction from Pris’s horrible words, from the hostile hatred she’d declared, but at the mention of it, she retreated from him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it was really upsetting to you. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Ella stepped back, the magic of the moment dispelled. “That was my stepsister.”
“Seriously? She works with you or something?”
Animosity flowed through her at the mention of Pris. She wrapped a strand of hair around her finger and glanced around his office. At his desk. Anywhere but at him.
“Yes, she works with me, and she was just giving me a reminder of my hours.”
His voice trailed from beside her. “Is she always that helpful?”
“If by helpful you mean pushy and obnoxious, then yes.” Ella regretted the words. This wasn’t her usual perky self. What was she doing?
Ella And The Billionaire's Ball (Once Upon A Billionaire Book 2) Page 9