Tempting: A Cinderella Billionaire Story

by Sophie Brooks

  Taking a step closer, I ran my hand across her back. “You knew it wasn’t… that’s why you wore that dress.”

  I felt, rather than heard, her small intake of air. She didn’t say anything, so I knew I was right. “Dinner’s not quite ready yet. It’s warming in the oven. Any ideas of what we can do until it’s done?” I traced my fingers up and down her bare arm, feeling her shiver in response.

  “No,” she said, her voice a whisper. Her eyes flickered when she looked up at me, reflecting the candlelight.

  “I have an idea.”

  The tremor that made her body quake was a mystery to me. Fear? Longing? Anticipation? The way she bit her bottom lip as she looked up at me made me think it was all of the above.

  I maneuvered her around until she was in my embrace. I pressed her head against my chest and buried my nose in her golden hair. She smelled so good. Clean. Fresh. But with some spiciness underneath that made me crave her. “Do you want to hear my idea?”

  Penny’s brown eyes were huge as she looked up at me. I waited her out, wanting to know her answer. Finally, she nodded.

  “Good. Because I think that while we’re waiting… we should dance.”

  The look on her face was priceless as I began to lead her around the room. She was rigid with shock for a moment, but then she relaxed against me, at least a little. It was clear she didn’t know a lot about dancing, but that was okay. I did. If there was one thing rich assholes knew how to do, it was dance. The children of socialite mothers and corporate titan fathers learned that while normal kids were learning useful life skills like sharing. Working together. And how not to be jerks.

  Penny clung to me as I whirled her around, deftly avoiding the furniture. She was following my lead, but she was still rather stiff in my arms. I hoped I could get her to loosen up, feel comfortable with her own sense of rhythm. It was too bad she couldn’t drink, that usually helped relax people enough so that they became less self-conscious.

  The timer on the oven dinged just as the song on the playlist ended, so I dipped Penny back in a dramatic finish, my hand supporting the small of her back. Immediately, she clutched at my arms, struggling. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

  “Let me go. Please.”

  She continued to struggle. What the hell? I pulled her back up before she managed to hurt herself. Once she was back on her feet, she sprung away from me. “What’s wrong? I wasn’t going to drop you.”

  Good god, she was trembling. “Penny, what's wrong?”

  She smoothed out her dress and then wrapped her arms around her chest as if she were cold. “I can’t.”

  “We don’t have to dance. Look, dinner’s ready. Just have a seat, and I’ll get you some wi—I mean, water.”

  She backed away. “No, I mean I can’t do this. All of this.” She gestured at the flowers, the candles. “This is a date.”

  We’d already established that, hadn’t we? I looked at her quizzically. She was really upset. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong.

  Penny took a deep breath and looked up at me. She was still backing away, but at least she was making eye contact. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this. Be here, with you. I thought I could, but I’m not ready. I just can’t.”

  I was beginning to get the gist, and it was depressing as hell. But still, there had to be some reason. Something had changed. She’d been happy to see me when she got here—I was sure of it. “Okay,” I said. “I understand. Can I drive you home? You’re upset.”

  She blinked at me for a minute and then shook her head. “I can drive. But thanks.” Her voice sounded stronger now. More normal, less panicky. Which was good, but it didn’t bode well that she was thinking more rationally now—and still wanted to leave.

  Helplessly, I watched her walk to the door to the hallway. Once she had her fingers on the handle, she turned back to look at me. “I’m really sorry, Blake.” She seemed to mean, it too. Enough so that I thought it safe to ask her the thing I really needed to know.

  “Can you tell me why?”

  She hesitated, and for a moment I thought she wasn’t going to answer. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “The last man I danced with was Zoe’s father. He’s gone now, and I thought I’d moved past him—but I haven’t. I’m sorry.

  The handle turned, the door opened, and she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Thoughts about her asshole ex who’d left her, but he’d also given her the most valuable thing in the world—her little girl.

  How the hell could I compete with that?

  Penny

  Monday mornings were normally pretty rough. After spending two days with Zoe, it was hard to leave her at the nursery, even though I knew I’d see her in a few hours. That was a normal Monday-morning feeling.

  But this Monday was different. Extra difficult. Extra, extra difficult.

  I’d spent the whole weekend thinking about Blake. About the look on his face when I left. I knew I hurt him deeply. And embarrassed myself. Yet I didn’t know if I’d do anything differently if he gave me another chance.

  Though I tried, I just couldn’t let the memory of Zorro go. How could I? He helped make Zoe. Half of her came from him. He was gone, I knew that, but as long as I honored his memory, it was like a part of him was still around. And if I forgot him? If I moved on? It was like spitting in the face of my baby’s creation. She owed her life to that magical night. How could I turn my back on it?

  It made no sense because I wanted Blake, too. Very badly. I’d been excited when I saw what kind of evening he had planned for us. The candles, the music, the food. It was so romantic. Under other circumstances, I would have been thrilled to spend an evening like that with a man like him. But I’d met Zorro first. He’d given me Zoe.

  I passed the morning in turmoil. Perhaps sensing this, Vera assigned me easy tasks, not much harder than the data-entry I’d done in Mr. Brown’s department. But I still paced the hallways whenever I got up to use the restroom or see Zoe. And I couldn’t help wondering about Blake. Would I see him? Was he mad at me? Would he give me another chance? Did I even want him to?

  The answer to that last question was yes. But then again, the exact same thing might happen next time. So maybe he was wise to keep his distance. And he did until a half-hour before lunch time. He didn’t send for me, but he did text, asking if I was bringing Zoe into his suite for lunch. Just like I had every day last week.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t a hard decision to make because we wouldn’t be here for very much longer. I texted Blake back. Thank you, but we’re leaving at twelve forty-five today. Zoe’s got a doctor’s appointment. She has to get a check-up and some shots.

  Poor kid, Blake texted back. I hope she at least gets a lollipop.

  Zoe was too young for that, but I knew that Blake was just joking. Trying to make things feel lighter. More normal. And I appreciated that more than he knew.

  But I still didn’t know what to do about him.

  About Zorro.

  About everything.

  Two hours later, as I drove back from the doctor’s office, I felt worse. Way, way worse. Penny’s appointment had traumatized us both. It was horrible, absolutely awful to hear her scream and not be able to explain why she had to be examined. Why she had to get painful vaccinations. She’d screamed until her face turned purple. Even now, she made little whimpering sounds every once in a while from the car seat.

  After I parked the car, I hugged her close, glad that she seemed to be falling asleep. When she woke up, maybe this would all seem like a bad dream.

  Speaking of dreaming, I had to blink several time before I took in what I was seeing. In front of the door to our apartment was a huge figure. It was tan, fuzzy, and bigger than me. I moved closer, half thinking it was a person in a bear suit for some reason, when I realized it was a teddy bear. A gigantic teddy bear with a pink bow on it.

  Up close, there wasn’t much mystery who had sent it. The bear had a Get
Well Soon card in one hand and a huge red lollipop in the other. Blake. Who else? But I had to smile after I climbed over it, let myself in, and put Zoe in her crib. She was going to have one heck of a time exploring that huge thing, crawling over its legs, pulling herself up to see its face.

  My smile faded trying to get the damn thing inside our tiny apartment, but eventually I did. And when I went to close the door, I saw that there had been a box underneath it. My first thought was that it was also from Blake, but then I saw it had come in the mail. It had my name on it and a return address I didn’t recognize.

  After fixing myself some tea, I set it on the kitchen table and slit the box open with a knife. Inside was another box, this one wooden. After some fiddling with it, I figured out how to slide the lid off. Inside was some packing material, and then a bottle.

  The Latour.

  With everything that had happened since, I’d almost forgotten I’d ordered it. I likely would have remembered once I got the credit card bill, but that wouldn’t be for another few days.

  Carefully, I picked the bottle up, studying its label. My thoughts returned to that night, the only other time I’d seen a bottle like this. With him. With Zorro.

  If I’d bought this for some kind of closure, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. My original intention was to save it until I could drink, and then have a glass in Zorro’s honor. Kind of one last toast before moving on. But I’d proven on Friday night that I wasn’t ready to move on. Not fully.

  It wasn’t healthy, I knew that, but I had one foot in the past with Zorro, and one foot in the present with Blake. That was no way to live. It wasn’t fair to Blake. Or to Ellen, since she was involved now. Or to my little girl who was growing fond of both of them.

  Maybe it wasn’t fair to me, either. But I didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t like moving on after a breakup. That was hard enough. But this was moving on after what should have been the first night of the rest of my life. The first night of my future, the future with a child and a man who cared about both of us. Losing Zorro had robbed me of the future I wanted for myself and for my child.

  Slumping down in my chair, I rested my face in my hand, staring at the bottle on the table. This wine had meant something to him. His grandfather had given him his first taste. And then he’d given me my first taste.

  I thought about that while I stared at the bottle. Wishing it had answers for me. Zorro had first drunk it with his grandfather. Then he drank it with me. Did that mean I was supposed to drink it with someone else? Jana was practically counting down the days until I could drink again. But that wasn’t who I wanted to share it with.

  I wanted Zorro—and all he represented. A future. A family. For me and my baby girl.

  She needed a dad. I’d had a good one, at least until my stepmother and stepsister got their claws into him. Blake had had a bad one.

  Zoe needed someone better than either one of our fathers. She needed one who was there for her. Who loved her. Who cared about her. Who would be there for her.

  With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the table, leaving the expensive bottle of wine behind.

  And almost tripped over the leg of an enormous teddy bear.

  Blake

  “You’ve got that meeting with the investors in a few minutes. And then Arnold Whitehall needs to see you before you leave. And Imelda Marcos is coming in at three forty-five.”

  “I’m sorry, who?” I stared at Vera.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, consulting her clipboard. “I meant Michelle Grant.” Vera was good. She said that with a completely straight face, but I could tell she was pleased with her dig. Suffice to say, she was not the biggest fan of the vapid socialite. That was okay, neither was I.

  “Anything else?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. My day had already been pretty lousy, but if Vera was in a snarky mood, I didn’t want to miss it.

  “You got a package a little while ago.”

  “What is it?” Vera or one of people who worked with her always opened my mail.

  “It says it’s for your eyes only. Shall I open it or have it sent in?”

  “Send it in,” I said, as she headed out. It wasn’t as if I cared either way. I didn’t care much about anything today.

  I’d spent the whole weekend thinking about Penny. Wondering if she’d ever be able to move on. Wondering what I could do to help her through this.

  It felt like we’d hit a wall. Driving at full speed… and then bam. Crash and burn. I wanted to support Penny through this, but I didn’t have the slightest fucking clue how. I wasn’t anyone’s go-to guy for emotional support, even in normal situations. And for something like this? When a child was involved? I was fucking useless.

  Penny was dealing with many conflicting feelings—or at least I hoped she was. I didn’t want to think that Friday night was the end of whatever this was. The end of us. But it was obvious there was a long way to go.

  Heather knocked at my door and then brought in a box, leaving in on my desk and departing quickly. Great, now my sour mood was scaring off my staff. I should go knock over an old lady and steal candy from a baby, and call it a day.

  A baby. Zoe’s smiling face appeared in my mind. I wonder if she’d liked the teddy bear? I wondered if Penny hated me for sending it over? From what Vera had said, large stuffed animals were the second worst present for kids after toy drum sets. But I couldn’t help it. The thought of Zoe in pain had had me picking out the biggest toy in the catalogue.

  Absent-mindedly, I slip open the box on my desk. Inside was another box, this one wooden. I opened it to reveal a bottle of wine. A Latour. Who on earth had sent that to me? Pushing aside the padding, I found a letter written on a white notecard.

  Dear Blake,

  I’m so sorry for the way I acted on Friday night. Please know that I didn’t meant to hurt you. You’ve been nothing but wonderful to me and to Zoe, and I can’t even begin to tell you how much the things you’ve done have meant to us. The nursery. The picnic. Your friendship.

  I wish I could return that friendship in kind. Please know that I’ve been trying. Zoe is the most precious thing in the world to me, and though I know it’s time to move on, doing so feels like turning my back on her father. Which feels like turning my back on her.

  But then you came along, an amazing man who, by some miracle, seems to think I’m pretty special, too. Because of you, I want to stop looking backward and focus on moving forward.

  I’m sending you this wine as a gesture of my gratitude, but also as a plea for patience. I’m trying—I really am. Please don’t give up on me. It’s hard, but I think maybe I’m finally heading in the right direction. I ordered this wine as a way to cling to the past. But instead, I’m giving it to the man I hope will be an important part of my future. And my daughter’s future.

  Please don’t give up on me.

  Love, Penny

  I read the note three times. Then I picked up the phone and called her.

  “Thank you,” I said before she could even say hello.

  “You’re welcome.” Her voice was steady, but there was a certain timbre to it that made me think she had been crying before.

  “I can’t remember the last time anyone’s given me a gift that special.”

  “I can,” she said, her voice a bit lighter now. “It’s taking up half my living room.”

  I chuckled. “You don‘t have to keep it. I just thought Zoe might get a kick out of it.”

  “I’m sure she will when she wakes up.”

  “Seriously, Penny, that was a very thoughtful gift. But the note—the note was even better. Because it says you’re willing to give us a chance.”

  The silence before she spoke was mercifully short. “I am. I’ll try. But I might have… setbacks sometimes.”

  “And we’ll deal with them together. I’m just glad you’re willing to try. I thought after Friday—“

  “I know,” she interrupted. “I’m sorry for that.”

  “Don’t b
e. You’ve made me very happy today. Any chance I can stop by tonight? I can bring food.”

  “Sure. Six o’clock?”

  “I’ll be there. See you then.”

  After she hung up, I stayed at my desk, the phone still pressed to my ear, as if I could keep her with me for the rest of the afternoon. She was going to try. That’s what mattered. She wanted to try. That was the best news I’d heard all day.

  My computer chimed. It was an instant message from Vera, reminding me it was time to meet with the investors. I put the bottle back in the box and placed it on a shelf next to my desk. A Latour. Who would’ve guessed that Penny had access to such a fine wine?

  I pulled out my phone as I walked down the hall toward the conference room. My thumbs flew over the tiny keyboard as I sent her a quick message. Excellent choice of wine, by the way. It’s one of my favorites. My grandfather gave me my very first bottle when I graduated.

  Pressing send, I went into my meeting.

  Penny

  My god.

  That text.

  His grandfather.

  His grandfather gave him his first bottle of Latour. Just like Zorro.

  Blake was Zorro.

  He actually was. The knowledge hit me like an eighteen-wheeler, but I knew it was true. I knew it with every cell of my being. Blake was Zorro. Blake was my mystery man.

  Blake was Zoe’s father.

  Tears poured down my face as I woke my baby girl. She had a father. A father close by. A father who already cared about her—even though he didn’t know she was his.

  I had to tell him.

  Right.

  This.

  Second.

  He had to know. Then we could be together. After all these months, we could finally be together.

  I bundled up my sleepy baby and rushed out the door.