Cinders

by Asha King

  She ran down the hall and main stairs just as the front door creaked open. Gina paused in the middle of the steps, staring in horror at her stepmother.

  Maureen, her hair severely pinned back and a mink stole over her shoulders, paused by the door to pull on long white gloves and looked up at Gina. “Yes?”

  Tears fought with rage for dominance, and even Gina didn’t know what would win. “Where are my mother’s things?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gina.”

  She took three more steps down, her hand gripping the railing to keep herself upright. “Yes, you do. You’ve been in my room and you took the boxes with her dresses.”

  Maureen watched her coldly for a moment and then flicked her hand over her shoulder; Tatum and Tamara had the sense to be silent and slipped outside without a word.

  When they were gone, Maureen faced Gina fully, her shoulders pulled back and chin lifted, eyes unblinking. “Those dresses were damaged, Gina. Moth-eaten, moldy. Everything was thrown out ages ago.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “I can’t have things breeding disease and bugs in my home.”

  Her home? Her home? Gina took a deep breath. “I looked at those clothes a month ago. They were fine. You did this so I couldn’t go to the party.”

  “Why would I do such a thing? Really, child.”

  “Because you’re spiteful and evil.”

  Of all things, Maureen smiled. “This obsession with me being the villain in your life will have to end at some point.” She clasped the door handle and started outside, casting one look over her shoulder. “See you at the party. If you can make it, that is.”

  The door snapped shut, then the deadbolt followed. Gina sank down on the steps weakly, staring blankly ahead, not quite able to cry but certain she would soon. Everything, gone. Everything. Maureen had scrubbed each and every piece of Gina’s mother from the house, the business, from Gina’s own room. It wasn’t about the damn party, the dress. It was her history, her family, completely gone.

  Like they never existed at all.

  ****

  Gina wasn’t sure how long she sat there—she was in shock, still, that her entire evening had just unraveled, crushed that despite years of cruelty her stepmother could take meanness to an entirely new level—when the front door creaked open.

  She sat up straight, nervous, and then an unfamiliar man peeked inside. It took a moment but she realized she did recognize him—he’d come in the bakery some weeks ago with Brennen. He would be the friend, Mike.

  Damn it, how long have I been here?

  Mike had his phone to his ear, met Gina’s eyes, and sighed. “Yeah, she’s here and she’s fine.” He let the door close behind him and walked to meet her on the stairs, offering his phone. “Brennen.”

  Gina winced and answered. “I’m sorry.”

  His warm voice filled her ear, easing some of her worry. “She showed up here and you hadn’t called yet. I thought something had happened.”

  She thought of the dress and closed her eyes. “Just...an argument. I lost track of time.”

  “Are you still coming? I know once they bring the dessert out, people are going to want to talk to you about your catering.”

  Gina glanced down at her ratty old bathrobe. Yeah, she’d make quite the impression.

  “Did you want the box that’s on the front step?” Mike asked, hanging by the door still.

  She glanced at him and frowned. “What box?”

  He took a quick look out the door and then snatched the long flat box from the step and set it by the steps for her. When she noticed him glancing around, she pointed out the door to Maureen’s office, and then pinched the phone between her shoulder and ear while she took a look at the box.

  The logo on the front was for Lady in Red.

  “Gina?” Brennen prompted on the other line.

  She said nothing, lifting the lid to the box. The inside was filled with red tissue paper with a single white card on top that said, Grandma wanted to say thanks. ~R.

  Gina parted the tissue paper and her breath caught.

  “I’ll be there shortly,” she said as she scrambled to her feet.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brennen glanced at the grandfather clock across the room. It was nearly seven and no sign of Gina.

  Her horrid stepmother and stepsisters had made the rounds. The younger girls were flirting with a pair of men Brennen’s age in the gardens and their mother was mingling. Waiters walked with trays of appetizers and flutes of champagne, some of Gina’s desserts already on display. He’d heard rumblings from a few guests on the snacks and whenever someone mentioned Sweet Haven, Brennen was quick to correct them with Gina’s name.

  He wandered the ballroom, the string quartet playing in the background, looking at the clock yet again. Mike had said Gina was just sitting there on the stairs, looking crestfallen, but he had no idea why. Then he’d called again to reassure Brennen Gina was on her way, yet there was no sign of her. Surely the car he’d sent to get her would’ve been to her place and back by now. The large anniversary cake would be rolled out soon and he didn’t want her to miss it, not after all the work she put into it.

  Couples mingled, some danced, and Brennen scanned the room yet again, growing more restless as the minutes ticked by. If she didn’t arrive in the next fifteen minutes, he’d get his car and—

  His gaze settled on a petite figure moving through the main door into the ballroom, her eyes falling on his.

  Brennen’s pacing halted, lips parted in words that didn’t come, as he watched a wholly transformed Gina Cassidy move delicately through the crowd. Her sun-streaked curls were bound up with tendrils brushing her bare shoulders; her dress was turquoise, a form-fitting bodice that could’ve been tailored just for her, offering a glimpse of cleavage that was both tasteful and alluring. A satin skirt grazed the floor, swishing about her legs.

  Gina’s smile was cautious as she reached him, her shoulders turned slightly inward like she already braced for something horrible despite looking like a goddess. “Hi,” she said softly.

  Of all the things he wanted to say to her, Brennen managed, “Hi.” He felt his lips stretched in a ridiculous grin, all the worry that had wound around him thus far disappearing in an instant.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, my...plans for apparel changed rather last minute.”

  His gaze swept over her again. “It was worth it.”

  A blush darkened her cheeks and Brennen offered her his arm, which she took. He imagined her stepfamily was sending rather venomous glares their way or would be soon enough, and he resolved to ignore them entirely. A couple hundred people were there and it was time to introduce Gina to those who had been admiring her desserts all evening.

  ****

  Gina couldn’t remember being so nervous in her entire life.

  The cake had been rolled out and she toasted with everyone else, raising her glass of red wine to the Prescotts. Her stomach was in knots so she declined her own cake, but eagerly listened as others tasted it and praised her recipe.

  She tried, and failed, to remember the names of everyone Brennen introduced her to and hoped that at these sort of functions it was common to forget everyone. A handful she recognized, either as customers or from her deliveries, but she was hopeless at retaining the names and faces of the others. Compliments on her food rained down, enough to leave her head spinning; compliments on her dress were nearly as frequent, and she was sure to credit the kind Mrs. Lowe, Raina, and Lady in Red as often as possible.

  Mrs. Lowe had guessed her size exactly; the dress fit perfectly, and was elegant enough that Gina almost felt like an imposter in it. Added to it all was a pair of pale, glittering silver high heels with delicate straps that crossed over her ankles. It was more extravagant than anything she’d owned in her life and at any moment she expected to wake up in her drafty attic room and find it was all a dream.

  If it is a dream, I’m going to enjoy eve
ry second of it.

  Brennen beamed as he frequently glanced down at her, arrestingly handsome in a perfectly cut black suit and tie, his strong jaw smoothly shaven as if to specifically draw her fingers for a touch and lips for a taste. She restrained herself, of course, since they were among Midsummer’s elite and it was neither the time nor the place, but later...later.

  A fresh blush crept up her cheeks at the thought, but one of anticipation. Without a doubt she wanted him, all of him, and the last few weeks had shown her that she deserved to go after the things she wanted just as much as anyone else. Maureen wouldn’t be controlling her life any longer.

  Speaking of... Gina glanced around but didn’t see her stepmother or stepsisters. Perhaps they’d left when she arrived. Perhaps they were just avoiding her. Regardless, she was glad because as happy as she currently was, she didn’t think she could feign niceness to them, and didn’t want to do anything to ruin Brennen’s parents’ night.

  As the clock wound toward nine, Brennen pulled his cell phone from his pocket as it buzzed, checked the number, and then met her eyes. Her stomach twisted in knots when he gestured for her to follow him—that had to mean Mike was calling.

  Good news or bad news, she didn’t know yet. He might not even know himself—she’d better know what to look for than a stranger, which was why he was directed to take photos of everything he discovered. They couldn’t risk taking the originals and Gina knew it might take some time to go through everything.

  Brennen led her from the opulent ballroom down a side hall, past the kitchen where the staff milled about, and up a set of side stairs to a dark row of rooms on the upper level. Guests hadn’t ventured upstairs and the wood-paneled hall was dark and silent. They paused back from the stairwell and Brennen held the phone to his ear to speak to Mike, his arm going over Gina while he listened.

  She watched him silently as he frowned, asked for clarification, and then his eyes widened. Her stomach twisted even harder and she balled her hands into fists, blunt nails digging into her palms. What if it was all for naught?

  At last Brennen hung up the phone but didn’t put it back in his pocket, holding it at his side as he looked down at her.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  He looked about to say more, and then he glanced at the stairwell again. “Let’s talk in the other room.” His hand clasped hers and he led her through one of the closed doors, flipping on the light to reveal a bedroom that might’ve been a suite. A massive canopy bed, a sitting area, a fireplace—a dark doorway off to the side likely led to a private bathroom. He sat on the sofa and she took the seat next to him, folding her trembling hands in her lap as she waited.

  “He couldn’t find the will,” Brennen started.

  Gina’s shoulders deflated. “So there’s no proof of what it said.”

  “I’m not as worried about that—we might yet find a record of it.” He held his phone toward her as he opened his email. “Mike sent me the initial photos. He wants you to look at the accounting books.”

  Gina scanned the picture, zooming in on the text and dragging it back and forth across the screen. “These contractors she said fixed the shop door a few weeks ago—have you heard of them?”

  “No. And neither has Mike. And that estimate is easily twice what it would normally cost.”

  Her heart thumped hard but she said nothing as Brennen opened another photo.

  “This is the insurance claim from the robbery. Didn’t you tell me you hadn’t yet taken the cash to the bank?”

  She glanced at the number—it was about seventy percent less than what she knew for sure had been there. “Okay, why would she say there was less money? Wouldn’t she say there was more if she’s committing insurance fraud?”

  “Not if, like you suspect, she’s trying to show the store is losing money. She’s lowering the value of her assets and inflating her deficits. Even without us having the will yet, this suggests what my father remembers is accurate.”

  “Will it halt the sale?”

  “It should. This is going to be messy and we’ll have to act quickly, but that woman will get what she deserves.”

  Gina positively beamed, hardly daring to believe it could finally happen—all the years she’d tolerated her stepmother might be worth it if her fraud and illegal activities were revealed and punished. Gina leaned forward and threw her arms around Brennen. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I didn’t think I’d find a way—this is because of you.”

  When she tilted her face up so she could meet his eyes, she pressed her lips to his. The kiss immediately became deeper, his mouth and tongue moving in a familiar rhythm and stoking heat through her veins. His arms came around her, drawing her into him where her body fit perfectly against his.

  “Mike sent over a few other things,” Brennen whispered against her lips as she ran her fingers across his chest, grasping the lapels of his jacket.

  “Are they important?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Good.” She kissed him again, hands pushing past his jacket. “Do we have to go back to the party right now?”

  “I can’t think of a single reason to bother.”

  His mouth on her throat, trailing kisses along her skin; his hands sliding over her shoulders, down to grip her sides; his knees pushing between hers. All of it converged, the sensations overwhelming, and she couldn’t bear the thought of waiting several hours more for him. She’d been waiting, it seemed, for her whole life, and now that everything she wanted was within her grasp, she had to reach out and take it.

  “Brennen,” she whispered as his mouth moved over her collarbone. “Take me to bed. Make love to me. Now.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brennen’s hands practically tremored, his desire for her intense and demanding. This wasn’t what he’d planned—champagne and strawberries on the nightstand, all the promises and reassurances rehearsed in case she decided she didn’t want to—but her obvious want, her pleas, tossed all of his plans out the proverbial window.

  At the very least, they could leave the couch, though. He gathered her in his arms and stood, gently guiding her toward the canopy bed several feet away. The room’s low lights cast threads of gold in her hair and highlighted the blush of desire blooming in her cheeks. He held there a moment simply staring at her, taking her in.

  “Take the dress off,” he asked before he could stop himself and then met her eyes, searching for any reservation there. But his Gina had grown more bold, more comfortable. She carefully unhooked the back of the bodice and eased it down, the skirt falling with it. Her breasts fell free, nipples dark, erect, and begging for his tongue, leaving her in just white silk panties and her high heels. Her scars were barely noticeable, so distracted was he with everything else on display.

  Gina stepped over the gown and toed it to the side, her arms opening to welcome him as he came toward her. She eased his suite jacket off and he kicked off his shoes and socks while she worked at the buttons of his shirt.

  “You’re beautiful, Gina,” he whispered as he leaned down for a kiss and she yielded to him, welcoming him, her bare breasts pressing against his nearly-bare torso. “So beautiful...” He took a step forward, her one back, and he pinned her between him and the bedpost, his hands coming down to cup her firm ass and pull her against him. His thick, heavy erection ground against her stomach, doing nothing to relieve the pressure but just craving her more.

  As his lips worked over her jaw to her throat, she grasped his shirt and moaned, making sweet sounds he loved and writhing beneath his touch. His right hand came between them and to her mound, sliding over her panties to feel the hot dampness waiting for him.

  “Nice and wet like I love.” His teeth grazed her collarbone and she gasped. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

  “I want to feel your tongue on me again,” she said in a barely audible, breathy voice. “Make me come.”

  He growled and took her mouth again, kissing her passionately. She helped work the re
st of his shirt off him and then he lifted her, settling her on the bed. Her head hit the pillows and she watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling with each panting breath. His hands came to her thighs and urged them apart; she obliged, spreading for him, still in those alluring heels. Brennen settled there, eyelevel with her pussy, his gaze moving up her body to meet hers.

  Then he leaned in and breathed, sampling her scent and brushing his fingers over her silk panties. His thumb glided over her clit and she bucked, already sensitive and ready for him. But he prolonged it, kissing up her thighs, palming her mound but not quite touching where she wanted him most, until her hips were undulating, begging him, and her hands were tangled in his hair to urge him forward.

  Understanding her impatience, his erection throbbing just as frustratingly needy, at last he moved the silk aside and drew his tongue along her slit.

  Gina moaned his name, her entire body seizing and pelvis rising to push against his mouth. Again he licked her, slid one finger up and down her slit, coating her pussy in her sweetness.

  “More,” she cried and he looked up to find her head thrown back, teeth biting down on her lower lip.

  He grasped her panties and pulled them off, wasting no time to return himself between her thighs. Fresh goose bumps rose on her heated flesh and he bowed his head, sucking her clit between his lips. Gina cried again, her hands knotting his hair. Her hips rose and fell, driving herself against him as he licked and sucked.

  As much as he wanted her to come just like that, he hadn’t forgotten the matter of her virginity and how he couldn’t bear the thought of it being painful for her later. So while he tongued her needy clit, he slid his hand beneath to slide up and down her slit, massage her labia, slick wetness gathering on his fingers. One digit glided gently into her, moving easily and smoothly, and so he added another.