Tempting
A Cinderella Billionaire Story
Sophie Brooks
Contents
Tempting
1. Penny
2. Blake
3. Penny
4. Blake
5. Penny
6. Blake
7. Penny
8. Blake
9. Penny
10. Penny
11. Blake
12. Penny
13. Blake
14. Penny
15. Penny
16. Blake
17. Penny
18. Penny
19. Blake
20. Penny
21. Blake
22. Penny
23. Blake
24. Penny
25. Blake
26. Penny
27. Penny
28. Blake
29. Penny
30. Blake
31. Penny
32. Blake
33. Penny
34. Blake
35. Penny
36. Blake
37. Penny
38. Blake
39. Penny
40. Penny
Epilogue
A NOTE FROM SOPHIE
BONUS NOVELLAS
Novella: Wicked Bet
Wicked Bet Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Novella: Naughty Nights
Naughty Nights Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
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Tempting: A Cinderella Billionaire Story
Copyright © 2017 by Sophie Brooks
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Note: Tempting ends at the 58% mark. Two bonus novellas are included after that.
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Tempting
A Cinderella Billionaire Story
Penny
“May I have this dance?”
The scene in front of me looked like something out of a fairy tale. Or maybe a movie. The ballroom was lavish, with a marble floor and crystal chandeliers. Seeing Beauty and the Beast waltzing by would not have surprised me that much. This masquerade ball was for the rich and elite, and everyone was dressed in elaborate outfits, complete with elegant masks. Who knew that masked balls even existed anymore, much less that I’d find myself at one?
I’d only been in the ballroom for a few minutes, but I could already tell I wasn’t going to spot any tacky costumes here. The theme seemed to be the “The Rich and Privileged Throughout the Ages.” Most people were dressed as nobility. A man to my right had on a tux and a top hat. A woman wore white gloves, a tiara, a mask of white lace, and a dress with a huge skirt that probably contained more fabric than my entire closet.
And I was here. In the middle of all this splendor. It was hard to believe.
“Excuse me, may I have this dance?” A crisp, tenor voice reached my ears again and I turned, my heart thudding in my chest.
A man dressed as a medieval knight met my gaze as I neared. “No, thank you,” he said.
“What?” This was confusing—hadn’t he just asked me to dance? But then he offered his arm to a woman in a long black dress with a white collar and apron. From her bonnet, I took her to be some kind of Pilgrim. He’d chosen a Pilgrim over me?
“Maybe later,” he said as he walked past, nodding his head at the tray in my hands.
Oh. Right. I was supposed to be working. I’d almost forgotten after seeing the splendor of the grand ballroom.
Moving through the crowd, I offered flutes of champagne to a couple dressed in elegant colonial garb, an old-fashioned constable, and several civil war belles who looked as if they’d just stepped out of Gone with the Wind. There were so many full skirts that I felt positively tiny in my black pants and white shirt. Maybe modern fashions left something to be desired in the style department, but my uniform slimmed my hips a lot better than a full skirt with a bustle would have.
When my tray was empty, I dashed out a side door to the kitchen where my boss, Darla, was not exactly happy to see me.
“Penny, what on earth took so long? It’s not difficult to get rid of fifteen glasses of bubbly.”
“Sorry. It’s just so hard not to spill anything with everyone twirling around in those dresses.”
She rolled her eyes. Darla was about ten years older than my twenty-four years, but she already had three children and didn’t want any nonsense during her shift. I’d worked for Top Cat Catering for four months, and Darla was usually fair, but sometimes she got cranky with me. And sometimes, like tonight, she had reason to.
But once I was back in the ballroom, I couldn’t help being swept away again. Those costumes. The hairstyles. The grandeur. The guests all looked so lovely. Even over the music from the string orchestra, I could hear conversations, laughter, and glasses clinking from all directions. Everyone appeared to be having fun. They were living their lives to the fullest—and that was something I definitely wasn’t doing. Half the time it felt like my life was in a holding pattern.
The plan was to graduate with a degree in business from college, and I did. To marry my high school sweetheart, Chad Jenkins, immediately after, and I did. But then the plan went sideways. The dream of getting a good job and starting a family with Chad never materialized. A year and a half later, I was divorced, taking MBA classes during the day, and working at events such as this one at night.
The people around me, the men in those tuxes or royal finery, the women in the beautiful dresses, they didn’t have to worry about money the way I did. Rumor had it among the catering staff that this costume ball cost a thousand dollars per ticket, the proceeds of which went to charity. One guy had heard it was five thousand.
But I didn’t envy them for their money. Or even for their fancy clothes. I envied them for living their lives. For being able to come here. With friends. With lovers. They were doing something, not stuck in a holding pattern as I was. These people weren’t waiting for something to happen. They were making something happen, whether that something was helping out the charity or just enjoying a festive evening.
“Penny, Darla wants you,” Manuel said as he passed me, gleaming silver dishes in his hands.
Darting through the crowd, I reentered the kitchen. Darla was speaking to the kitchen staff, so I waited a few steps behind her. Just as she turned to me, we both heard a high, crisp feminine voice. “Where’s the catering manager?”
Darla hurried forward, and I followed her, something about that voice bot
hering me. “I am. May I help you, miss?”
For some reason, I hesitated, my body partially behind a stainless steel shelving unit as I peered around the edge. A tall, slender woman towered over my manager. The newcomer had the most beautiful dress I’d seen tonight, and that was saying something. It was a pale pink silk that went well with her fair complexion and her gleaming red hair piled high on her head. But the sharp blue eyes surrounded by a white eye-mask belied the grace of her clothes. Her eyes darted around the kitchen in a predatory manner. I’d recognize that expression anywhere, even if her clothes were much different than the ones she usually wore.
“I need someone to help me,” she said, still looking around the room. I eased backward, trying not to be seen.
“Of course, miss. Was there a spill? Do you need something else to drink?”
“This isn’t about catering, you silly woman, it’s about something important. I need a member of your staff. A female. Someone young and attractive. Around five feet four inches and slender.”
Darla looked taken aback, but she knew this was the most lucrative catering job we’d ever had. “Certainly, miss, any one of our staff would be happy to help. Perhaps Juanita?” Darla pointed to my fellow server who was staring open-mouthed at the two women. Juanita was often referred to as being cute, with the smattering of freckles across her nose and her baby face, but I had a feeling she wasn’t what Ms. High and Mighty was looking for.
“No, not her. Anyone else?”
Darla’s face colored slightly, and I could easily read her thoughts. She was the manager of a successful company, not a casting agent. But her voice was carefully neutral as she looked around. “How about—“
Her gaze moved in my direction, and I stepped back hastily, my hip hitting the counter behind me causing a metal bowl to go clattering to the floor.
The woman in the pink dress stepped forward, staring at me. She frowned, and then sighed. “I guess she’ll have to do. Come with me.”
“But—but I have to work.” I protested, but she was already sweeping out of the kitchen.
“You’re here to help at the charity ball,” said the rapidly retreating figure. “And that’s what you’ll do. Keep up.”
Darla cast me a helpless look as I trotted past her, following the train of pink silk.
“I’m supposed to be serving drinks,” I said, trying again.
“Then you should be grateful I’ve liberated you.” Despite her costume, she moved quickly, making her way past the dancers in the ballroom and heading for the grand staircase.
Trying to keep up, I said, “Please, just tell me where we’re going.” But she was already halfway up the wide staircase covered in plush red carpeting. At the top, I paused. The grandeur of the ballroom was even more evident from up here. I could have watched the dancers twirling around forever, but I was summoned once more.
When I looked down the hallway, she was nowhere to be seen. Crap. Despite Darla’s earlier annoyance, my manager was going to be even angrier if I botched this up, whatever it was. “Wait—wait up. I don’t know where you are, Michelle.”
Her pale face appeared in a doorway, one eyebrow raised as I hurried toward her. “How do you know my name?”
Just barely, I kept from rolling my eyes. It had only been two years since we’d last seen each other, yet I’d recognized her even under all those layers of finery. I caught up and stood before her, suddenly a little self-conscious. Perhaps it was her beautiful dress next to my catering uniform. I reached up and smoothed back my hair. “It’s me—Penny.” Not a muscle moved on her face, so I added, “Your stepsister.”
Blake
“You’ve got to be shitting me. I’m not going anywhere looking like this. I look like the Dread Pirate Roberts,” I said.
“Only if the Dread Pirate Roberts was a douchebag with a really lame goatee,” Ryan said, clapping me on the shoulder. He was my best friend, and had the right to tease me about my recent experience with facial hair. Though I’m pretty sure he was in the minority opinion. The ladies certainly seemed to like it.
“I’ve been on vacation. I’ll shave it off before heading back to the office on Monday.”
“Vacation? Vacations involve beaches. With women in tiny bikinis. You were at a business conference.”
“Yes, but in Zurich.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to get home until late tomorrow night.”
“I skipped out early.”
“And you didn’t go straight to the office? That’s progress, my friend.” Ryan clapped me on the back.
“What are we supposed to be anyway? The Three Musketeers?” The high boots, capes, and swords seemed appropriate for that.
“There are four of us, Einstein,” Adam said.
“Can you believe Blake graduated from the same school I did?” Ryan asked, and Adam and Tyler grinned. “We’re the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. If we were the Three Musketeers, we wouldn’t have needed you to pinch hit when Freddie got sick.”
Freddie. That asshole. Figured that he’d signed off on this. Can’t believe these guys asked him to do this before me. But then again, Ryan knew me well enough to know that these kinds of things irritated the shit out of me. A charity ball—yeah, right. Sure, the proceeds went to some worthy causes, but this was just another chance for the rich and pompous to show off. Some of the costumes I’d seen so far tonight had probably cost three or four times the ticket price.
Still, I had to admit the sword was cool. It wasn’t real, but it didn’t come from the corner costume shop, either. Maybe it was a stage prop? Tyler's sister was in some kind of theater group. I held the weight of the gleaming silver in my hands a moment longer and then sheathed it. “Which horseman am I? War? Death?”
“I’m War,” Adam said, holding up a circular shield and tapping it against the armor on his chest. “Ryan’s Death. You’re Famine.”
“Famine? I want to be something cool.”
“You can trade with me,” Tyler said. “I’m Pestilence.”
“Not an improvement. Since I’m the last-minute substitute, shouldn’t I get my pick?”
“No,” came three voices at once. These guys who couldn’t agree on a restaurant in under half an hour, yet on this, they were a united front.
“Fine. Famine it is.”
“Good. And don’t tell anyone who you are,” Ryan said.
“Why not?”
“Because I had to submit all our names for the group costume contest, and I don’t want us to be disqualified. I’m in it to win it.”
“What’s the prize?” I asked, tilting my head as I looked over at my best friend.
“Home field advantage at the World Series,” Ryan said, and I rolled my eyes. “It's a contest. We rock at contests. Remember taking state in high school?” He’d been catcher for our high school baseball team while I’d played first base. We’d won the state championship two years running.
“Okay, okay, I got it. No saying my name. No running anyone through with my sword. Anything else?”
“The costume contest is at midnight,” Tyler said.
“Yeah, make sure you’re at… let’s see…” Ryan checked something on his phone. “Northwest corner of the grand ballroom. That’s our spot. Don’t be late.”
“Yeah, don’t go off and get laid,” Ryan said, elbowing me as he headed toward the door, lowering a cool skeleton mask as he walked. My mask was just a black cloth tied around my head with holes for the eyes. “Or if you do, make sure you’re back in time for the contest.”
“I guess you can’t argue with Death,” I said to the other two and we followed him out.
Penny
“Oh, my god.” The woman staring back at me in the mirror was a complete stranger. The image of a Victorian noblewoman, but a stranger nonetheless. My gown gleamed as if it were made of gold. The corset bodice of the dress was intricately embroidered with what looked to be handmade lace adorning the low-cut neckline. The woman who’d helped me get into it
had laced up the back so tightly my internal organs were probably stacked on top of each other. The bodice formed a V over my pelvis, and then the skirt flared out in all directions, held out by layers of petticoats or crinolines or whatever you called those underskirt thingies.
The sleeves were my favorite part. Formfitting down my arms, but then fanning out just below my elbows. They ended in handmade lace, too. The way it danced across my forearms when I moved made me feel so feminine. This dress was the most beautiful thing I’d ever worn.
The only thing not to like about this costume was that from the neck up I didn’t look like me. The hairdresser had pinned my hair up and fitted me with a wig of white curls piled high on top of my head. Several thick strands of spirals hung down on either side of my neck. The makeup lady had made my face paler and given me a fake mole for a beauty mark. Apparently that was quite the thing in Victorian times.
“Where's your costume?” Michelle said, sweeping back into the room for the first time since she’d left me at the mercy of her assistants and told them to make me presentable. But they were done now, so I gave Michelle a questioning look.
“Not your dress,” she said. “The animal mask.”
I was supposed to be an animal? What kind of animal wore a dress this gorgeous?
“Here,” the costume assistant said, hurrying over to me. She set a black eye mask carefully on my face. Another woman lifted my fake hair as the first one tied the string of the mask behind me. Then something touched my head as a third woman did something with the wig. Finally, the makeup artist dabbed something on my nose.
When they retreated, I looked in the mirror again. Now I was a noblewoman with a black mask, rounded black ears sticking out of white hair, and a black nose with whiskers across my cheeks. “I’m a… cat?”
“You’re a mouse,” Michelle snapped. “And don’t forget that, because you have to line up with your partner at eleven forty-five. The judging begins at midnight.”
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