Skyscraper Cinderella

by K. Webster

  “You’ll know,” she says finally. “You’ll know when I’ve had enough, because you know me. I trust that when you know, you’ll back off.”

  Her trust in me makes me feel like shit. Ash puts too much trust in the world. Too much trust in monsters like me. It’s why they prey on her.

  Then don’t send her out into it, dumbass.

  I hate that I will.

  “Let’s begin,” I grit out as I shed my jacket. “On your knees, maid.”

  Her sassy eyebrow arches up in that bitchy way I love so much, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut. I yank off my tie as she allows her robe to slip off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Then, she gracefully falls to her knees, her tits bouncing with the movement. Seeing her on her knees, naked and willing in my living room is nearly too much to bear. She’s too perfect. A perfect sexual match for me. It’s too bad everything else about her doesn’t fit into my world.

  I flick through my buttons, enjoying the way her hazel orbs darken with lust. She’s just as obsessed with me as I am her. It’s a lethal combination, because neither of us seems strong enough to keep the other one at bay. Each of us keeps falling into the same depraved trap.

  Once I’ve shed my shirt, I prowl over to her. My erection, barely contained in my slacks, is in her pretty face.

  “Dirty girls belong on the floor,” I lightly smack her cheek. “Right?”

  “Ten grand.”

  I smirk at her reply. “Expensive.”

  “You have the money.”

  Twisting my fingers in her hair, I yank her head back. “You’re not worth it.”

  “Twenty grand. Easy money, Constantine.”

  My heart gallops in my chest. There’s still so much I want to do to her—with her—but our time is done. After tonight, I need to regain my focus. Playtime is over.

  “I think they call your kind gold diggers.” I slide my hand to her throat, jerking her to her feet. “Am I right?”

  A mixture of defiance and lust burn hot in her eyes. “Thirty.”

  “Take my pants off, whore.” I squeeze on her neck, enjoying the way her face quickly turns purple.

  “Forty,” she rasps out and fumbles with my belt, undoing it blindly as her eyes are locked on mine.

  I groan when her palm slides into my pants, rubbing against my throbbing cock. “Needy girl with daddy issues is all you are.” I nip at her bottom lip hard enough she whines.

  “Fifty.” Her voice is a mere whisper because of the unrelenting grip I have on her neck.

  As soon as I let go of her throat, she gets down to business of divesting me of my clothes. I allow her to remove my pants and boxers. Shoes and socks. When I’m naked, the tip of my cock leaking with pre-come, I grab a handful of her ass, yanking her to me.

  “Eager slut, hmm?”

  “Sixty.”

  A dark chuckle escapes me. “We might make a millionaire out of you by the end of the evening. Well played, Cinderelliott.”

  She preens at my praise.

  This. Fucking. Girl.

  To end her gloating, I throw her over my shoulder, smacking her ass hard enough she yelps. “Neediest brat I’ve ever met.”

  “Seventy!” she yells out, smacking my ass right back.

  I fight a stupid smile as I stride into her room. Sex isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s not supposed to be… fun.

  “Spread your legs and show me what I’m overpaying for,” I order, tossing her on the bed.

  “Eighty.”

  I smack her thigh. “Eighty now.”

  Her dark hair is wild around her, and her pouty pink lips are parted. I could spend hours devouring this woman. Every part of her is a piece I want to consume and live off until my dying days. I don’t understand her or how she gets inside me like she does, but it’s her superpower, that’s for damn sure.

  “Make love to me like this,” she murmurs. “Where I can see your mean face the whole time.”

  A challenge.

  She wants me to bite.

  To be her hero and save the day.

  I’m afraid the damn girl will never learn.

  I grab her by the hips and flip her. “No.”

  She squeals when I smack her ass, chasing it with another insult. I pounce on her, nipping at her shoulder and neck, whispering more cruel words. Ash whines out each growing number to the total.

  One hundred thousand.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Time passes too quickly. I’m inside her, already having tallied up half a million dollars. I fuck her rough and painfully, shoving her face against the mattress so I don’t have to look at her. Because if I see her face, I’ll back off. I’ll rethink everything. I’ll fucking pull her into my arms and hold onto something I shouldn’t.

  Her sobs only fuel me.

  “Too much, Cinderelliott?”

  “Never with you.”

  I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing, as I remind her I’m the most powerful man in the city, and she’s nothing but an employee. Worthless and insignificant.

  It’s all a fucking game, though.

  My dick thinks she’s the best damn thing it’s ever encountered.

  My heart aches for some goddamn reason.

  My mind won’t shut the fuck up, tossing out a million different ways she could fit into the complicated Constantine world.

  The insults don’t come, and my thrusting slows. I crave to flip her back over so I can stare into her intense hazel eyes. To worship her body for hours and hours. Spend a whole night fixated on her plump lips alone. Instead, I bite at her shoulder and call her a plaything to be used and discarded as I come into her tight, needy body.

  Silence fills the air. All that can be heard is her bird singing in the living room and our heavy pants. My dick continues to throb though I’ve drained my release into her. I’m not sure if she climaxed or not. The pounding in my heart is so loud and painful it feels as though it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest. The cacophony of thoughts storming around in my head is giving me a goddamn headache.

  I’ve spent right at eight hundred grand for this filthy fuck.

  Expensive, but worth it.

  “How much?” she murmurs.

  “Seven ninety.”

  “No.” She tries to turn her head to look at me but can’t. “How much for you to spend the night with me? I need—”

  Sliding out of her body, I clamber off the bed, unable to look at her as she rolls onto her back. “A million.”

  “Win,” she whines, sniffling as she reaches for me. “Take seven ninety.”

  “You may be the bargain around here,” I bite out in a cruel tone, “but I’m still a fucking Constantine. No discounts for the poor.”

  Fresh tears form in her eyes, and her bottom lip wobbles. “You’re an asshole.”

  I laugh, but it’s hollow and hateful. “Tell me something we don’t already know. Goodnight, Ash. See yourself out. Use the ‘whore’ apartment until you find one on your own.”

  Her sobs echo behind me, chasing me like fucking ghosts. I stalk out of her room and up the stairs, eager to wash away the evidence of my evil. That’s what I am. Evil fucking monster. Ash Elliott needs to run far, far away from the likes of me. What Mother can’t accomplish in destroying her, I will. Whereas my mother will shred her life, I’ll be the one to cut down Ash piece by piece and set her world ablaze until she’s nothing but… ash.

  The cold shower I find myself in seems like a fitting punishment. It strikes me relentlessly with icy pinpricks, reminding me that I deserve to feel the pain of it. Maybe my heart can’t ever feel as it once did, but I still deserve to suffer as far as Ash is concerned. I still crave to ache for what I’ve done to her—what I will do to her. Right now, she’s crying for a man who can never love her. Praying to god that I’ll somehow change for her. Find a way to love and adore and keep her.

  I can’t.

  But my stupid mind replays the heartb
roken look on her face when I left her on the bed, naked and dripping with my come. All she wanted was a night in my arms. To feel safe and cared for. Loved.

  Shutting off the shower, I snag a towel off the rack. Prissy warm towels my ass. I huff as I dry myself off, my mind unable to stop from going a hundred miles a second. I brush my teeth and comb out my hair, refusing to look at my reflection.

  Sometimes I don’t want to see the villain staring back at me.

  Sometimes I wish, for once, I was the prince.

  My eyes, on their own accord, lift to the mirror. Darkness and emptiness stare back at me. No princes here. Just a filthy, fucked-up king who broke the only good thing in his world.

  I throw on some sweats, trying like hell to ignore the whimpering downstairs. My heart thunders inside my chest as I pace my bedroom. With a frustrated sigh, I stalk into my massive closet. All my suit jackets and slacks hang in perfect order aside from one. I walk over to it and straighten it, then I access my wall safe. After putting in the code, I bypass the stacks of money, heading right for the dumb coupon book. Flipping it open, I find the coupon I need and tear it out.

  The man rushing downstairs like his life depends on it is not Winston Constantine. It’s a weak boy who’s worried about a girl—his girl. I shed the villain at the door to her bedroom that’s now dark and slide beneath the covers. I shove the coupon into the palm of her hand, curling my own around hers, forcing her to crumple it into her fist. Her body is stiff as I inhale her hair and nuzzle her neck.

  “Cuddle coupon,” I murmur. “You said they never expire.”

  Her body relaxes, and a small, teary laugh escapes her. “Never.”

  “Next time, negotiate better, Ash,” I say with a heavy sigh, squeezing her to me. “Please. I need you to.” Because I can’t let you go. Not yet.

  She nods. “Next time?”

  I was certain tonight would be the last time, but my dumbass is addicted to her. Just like I am to the stupid gummy bears. “Yeah, next time. I’m not done with you. You’re not a millionaire yet. My investments always pay off.”

  “I’m more than an investment,” she tells me, her voice shaking though she tries to be brave. “I’m just yours.”

  I don’t argue with that.

  Tomorrow, I can ream myself for being weak.

  Right now, I’m her prince. Hers. Maybe only for a few hours, all of which we’ll be sleeping. Regardless, it’s what I’ll be.

  “Who’s Layla?”

  Her question is a cold rain of reality drenching me. “No one important.” It’s the truth, and I know she hears it in my tone. “No one like you.”

  “Good,” she murmurs before her breathing becomes soft and rhythmic with sleep.

  I don’t fall asleep, though.

  Because if I get to be a prince, even in the dark for just a few short hours, I want to be aware of it. I want to be present. I greedily take every second.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ash

  I wake to the smell of bacon, and my stomach grumbles. Francis scurries in with a tray of food, leaving it on the nightstand before rushing out. Winston is no longer in bed, though his masculine, soapy scent still lingers in the air. I sit up and pull the tray into my lap. It’s then I notice my phone sitting beside me on the pillow he slept on.

  After inhaling a few bites of eggs and bacon, I grab my phone to check for any missed messages.

  Win: Emergency business meeting in Paris. Took Perry with me. It should be a quick meeting, but it needs to be done in person. I’ll return Monday evening at the latest. I’ve emailed you with your education fund details as well. Don’t let anyone in my house while I’m gone unless their last name is Constantine.

  Typical Winston. All business. No mention of the emotional night we had.

  My heart aches at the memory. He’d been so cold when he came home. Distant and borderline cruel. But I thought like always, I could draw him out of his mind and into my arms to a place where we meet in the middle on even ground.

  He wouldn’t allow it.

  His walls were high and made of steel. I know his mother played a part in it. Still, I couldn’t help the way my heart physically hurt when he denied me his tenderness. Sure, I should have negotiated it up front, but I didn’t. I’d thought—hoped—he’d soften for me. Instead, he left me sobbing.

  But he came back.

  Clean and offering a cuddle coupon.

  Winston Constantine is a hard nut to crack, but I won’t give up on him. His mother might think I’m beneath him or using him, but she’s wrong. He and I match up in ways I can’t explain. We just match. And with each passing day, I discover more and more about him that I want to know and protect.

  He might be ready to give me up because I’m a threat to his cold heart, but I won’t give him up without a fight.

  Me: Miss you already.

  His response is immediate. Five eyeroll emojis in a row.

  Win: Needy.

  My heart squeezes in my chest. This feels right. Our playful banter. Teasing and taunting. Last night was a glitch. A hiccup. We’ll continue on just like this.

  Me: Will you bring me back a souvenir?

  Win: No.

  Me: Pleassssse.

  Win: Definitely no now.

  Me: Don’t make me beg your brother.

  Win: Fine, Cinderelliott, I’ll bring you back a postcard. Happy?

  Me: I am now.

  I send him a bunch of heart-eyed emojis to drive him crazy. He doesn’t respond so I finish breakfast and then hop in the shower. Once I’m clean and ready for the day, I check for any other messages. I see he’s deposited the money I earned last night and sent me a selfie of him and Perry on what looks like a private jet. Perry is grinning and Winston is scowling, but they both still somehow look just alike.

  I send him five hundred through Apple Pay for the selfie and then suggest I’ll send him more if they want to get naked for the next pictures. Give him a taste of his own medicine. My text earns me several middle finger emojis that have me laughing. The next text that comes through, though, isn’t Win.

  Dad: Dinner at five? I’m making your favorite.

  Me: Just the two of us?

  Dad: Family dinner. I know things have been difficult lately with you and your stepbrothers. I think that’s me and Manda’s fault. We should be nurturing a healthy relationship between our children. As it stands, I think the boys feel threatened by you. I just want to fix it so we can all be happy.

  I curse as I reread his text. I do not want to have dinner with the stepmonsters and their wicked mother.

  Me: They assaulted me, Dad.

  The dots move and stop several times before he finally replies.

  Dad: I know, honey, and I’m so sorry. I came down on them hard for it too. Threatened them within an inch of their lives. It caused a rift between me and Manda. Admittedly, I was ready to kill them. They know they’re on thin ice.

  A smile tugs at my lips as I imagine Dad bitching them out.

  Me: Fine, but as soon as dinner is over, I’m going back to Winston’s.

  Or my apartment. Because I have one of those now. A safe place to go if everything goes to hell. I’ll never admit it to Winston, but I am sort of thankful to have it, even if I never go there. Just the fact that I could if I wanted to is enough.

  Dad: I just miss you, but I know you’re growing up. One day I’ll blink and you’ll be married with a family of your own. Probably with that Constantine since he’s so adamant about spoiling you every chance he gets.

  Don’t I wish. It’s going to take a hell of a lot of convincing to get Winston even on the same page as being my boyfriend. I can see through his teasing. I’m not really his—not how I want to be.

  Me: He’s my employer. Don’t start planning a wedding yet.

  Dad: He’s more than that and we all know it. Be careful with him, honey. A man like him could destroy the heart of a girl like you.

  Too late.

  My heart is in Winston
’s hands, and he’ll be the ultimate decider on what happens to it.

  Me: See you at five.

  * * *

  I walk into the brownstone, my armor on and bitchy attitude in place. The triplets will want me cowering, but I refuse to let them see me afraid. Dad and Manda will be here so it’s not like they’ll do anything. If this had happened to Winston, he sure as hell wouldn’t hide from them. He’d face them head on and look them in the eyes.

  I’ll get them back eventually.

  “In here, sweetheart,” Dad calls from the kitchen.

  I follow my nose to where he’s standing at the stove, stirring his homemade Alfredo sauce. It reminds me of when I was a girl and Mom would be standing beside him, teasing him about the only meal he could cook. I’d giggle and tell her that he could make frozen waffles too, which, looking back, didn’t really help his case.

  God, I miss her.

  I hug Dad from behind, resting my cheek on his solid back. He’s not a beast of power like Winston, but he’s steady and solid, powerful in his own right. There’s something to be said about the strength of a father. Knowing he chewed out the triplets has me relaxing.

  “Smells good. But can it possibly be as good as your frozen waffles?” I tease, smiling when he chuckles.

  “There’s no comparison to my frozen waffles. Why don’t you grab the stuff to make a salad?”

  I release him to busy myself pulling out the ingredients. For a moment, I can almost pretend it’s just the two of us back in our old apartment. Sometime after Mom and before Manda. When we were each other’s entire world. He whistles a familiar tune while I cut tomatoes for the salad.

  “Smells delicious,” Manda says, entering the kitchen and cooling it several degrees. “Hello, Ash.”

  I give her a wave with the knife in my hand, not meeting her hard stare. The sloppy sounds of their kissing kill any happy moments I’d enjoyed a few seconds before.

  “Will the boys be joining us?” Dad asks, his voice low and tight with tension.