by K. Webster
“Where’s my damn coupon?” I ask, hauling her to my chest so I can inhale her hair.
“The cuddle coupon that you already used?”
“That’s the one.”
“You can’t use it again. That’s not how coupons work.”
I kiss her neck. “Then how much does this thing we’re doing cost?”
She lets out a sigh. “It’s free. Consider it a handout for the needy boy.”
“Brat.”
“You like it when I’m bratty.”
Indeed, I do.
The apartment grows quiet, which means my siblings left. Even Shrimp is being quiet. My eyes drift closed as sleep overtakes me. I’m tired as fuck and jetlagged. It’s late morning but it may as well be two a.m. for how exhausted I am.
“Win?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being you.”
“You’re sappy when you’re sad,” I remark, my voice thick with sleep.
“I’m not sad anymore.” A beat of silence and then she speaks again. “Goodnight, Constantine.”
“It’s morning, Cinderelliott.”
“Still good.”
“Hmph. That’s a stretch.”
“It’s good now,” she amends.
I can’t argue with that.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ash
I set my phone down, still smiling from Winston’s last text, so I can pull my hair into a ponytail. We’ve been teasing back and forth in between his meetings this morning. Apparently, something big went down with one of his clients in Paris, and he’s been doing damage control ever since. Where I was exhausted this morning after the hellacious weekend I had, Win was fresh-faced and ready to work come Monday morning. I’d tried to find the motivation to go to work, but he shut it down and told me to take the day off.
My phone continues to buzz with texts. Once my hair is fixed, I pick it back up to see what else the dirty boy has to say.
I deflate at seeing Dad’s text.
Dad: Come home, honey. Manda and the boys aren’t here. It’s safe now.
It’s been one variation or another of this since the triplets were arrested on Saturday night. I understand Dad is worried about me, but I don’t feel as though he did his best to protect me from them. He let his guard down, and they swooped in.
Me: I have my own apartment now. I’m safe there.
Even if I never use it, at least I have it. Plus, Dad needs to know I’m not going back there, and I certainly don’t need him to protect me. I’ll protect myself.
My phone rings, but I don’t recognize the number. I ignore it and head into the living room to check on Shrimp. Tucked into the bars of his cage is a postcard with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it. On the back, in Winston’s fancy flourishes, it says:
Dinner tonight, girlfriend. – W
Not a question. Just a typical Winston demand. But also sweet and romantic… for him. I laugh, holding it to my chest and then sigh happily. I’m not sure what will become of us, but I don’t see it ending anytime soon. This weekend only seemed to solidify our bond.
My phone rings again. I answer it in case it’s Winston. Not many people have this new number.
“Hello?”
“Miss Elliott?” a female says in a curt tone.
“Yes?”
“This is Caroline Constantine.” She pauses to let that name sink in, and boy does it sink, bottoming out my stomach. “Meet me at Carmichael’s Day Spa in an hour.”
I’m stunned silent as I wonder how in the hell she got my number. Furthermore, how does she know I’m not at work and able to even go to the spa? I’m pretty confident Winston didn’t seek out his mother to tell her all this. In fact, he seemed pretty adamant about keeping things from her.
“I, uh,” I start but she cuts me off with a sharp sigh that reminds me of her eldest son.
“I’ll send a car for you.”
Beep-beep-beep.
She hung up on me. Lovely. At least I know where Winston got his winning personality from. I suck in a deep calming breath to steady myself. If I can handle Win, I can handle his mother. I refuse to let her intimidate me. Quickly, I shoot him a text.
Me: I’ve been summoned to a spa day with your mother. Should I be scared?
Win: Very.
Me: Ha. Seriously. I’m freaking out.
Win: I’m sure you’ll figure it out.
Me: Gee, thanks. Send me to the wolves with no way to defend myself!
Win: Just one wolf.
Me: What if she tells me to stay away from you?
Win: Since when do you listen to anyone?
Me: I want to make a good impression.
Win: You’re so old fashioned, Cinderelliott. Cute.
Me: You’re patronizing me.
Win: Tell her you’re my girlfriend. I’m sure that will go over wonderfully.
Me: I hate you.
Win: That’s not a very nice thing to say to your boyfriend.
Me: Not my boyfriend.
Win: Good. Now you’re prepared for Mother.
I send him a million eyeroll emojis. He replies back with a breadstick emoji. Asshole.
* * *
Carmichael’s Day Spa is one of the fanciest places I’ve ever been to. Rather than your typical spa—earthy, organic vibes—this one screams money with its high-end chandeliers and ornate furniture. Wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, my flip flops, and a Columbia University T-shirt Dad got me when I was accepted, I feel incredibly out of place. I gnaw on my fingernail as I wait for Caroline to arrive. I’m hoping she’ll stand me up and I can go back to Winston’s.
The door opens to the spa and my hopes are dashed.
In walks Caroline Constantine in a smart pastel ensemble with an air of authority swirling in along with her expensive floral scent. She pushes her oversized sunglasses up over her head, revealing her sharp, penetrating blue eyes.
“Miss Elliott,” she greets, a fake smile plastered on her face. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Like I had a choice, lady.
I stand and awkwardly shuffle toward her. “No problem.”
Her gaze roams over my outfit, and her nostrils flare. “Darlene,” she calls out. “We’re ready.”
Darlene, a woman with a severe bun and perfect makeup, scampers over to us. “Come this way, ladies. We have your room ready.”
I follow after the women, trying and failing to calm my nerves. I’m not sure why in the hell this woman wants to have a spa day with me, but something tells me I’ll soon find out. Her cold demeanor doesn’t give me much confidence that it’ll be a fun girls’ day. Darlene escorts us into a room with two overstuffed armchairs and armoires beside each.
“You’ll find your robes and slippers in here,” Darlene says, gesturing to one of the armoires. “Cindy will be by with some refreshments after you’ve gotten comfortable. Padre and Evan are preparing the massage room for you.”
She leaves me alone with Caroline. The woman turns her back to me and begins undressing. Since I don’t care a thing about seeing this woman naked, I quickly undress and pull on the robe. Once the slippers are on and my things are stowed away, I sit down in one of the comfy chairs. As soon as she sits, a woman who must be Cindy, slips into the room with a tray. She hands us each a flute of champagne and sits a cheese and fruit board down between us on a small table. Then, she’s gone, once again leaving me in awkward silence with Win’s mother.
“This place is lovely,” I mutter, unsure what to even talk about.
“Indeed.” She smirks at me and sips her champagne.
She reminds me so much of Win in this moment, I bite back a smile.
“Something funny?” Her blue eyes are hard and probing. Yep, definitely just like Win.
“You just remind me of him is all.” My smile breaks free. “Your mannerisms are a lot alike.”
Her features soften almost imperceptibly. But, since I’m good at reading W
inston, I notice the tiny change in her. Point one for me. She apparently loves talking about her children. Okay, so “loves” might be a stretch. I’m not sure the Constantines love anything but their last name.
“What are you doing with my son?” All warmth has evaporated as her chilly words send a shiver down my spine.
“He’s my boyfriend,” I blurt out and then cringe.
This time, she’s better about schooling her emotions. She doesn’t flinch or move. “Boyfriend?” A heavy sigh escapes her. “Oh, you silly girl.”
My skin heats at her patronizing tone.
“Here I thought you were out for your own personal agenda, but I can see it’s not that at all, is it?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “You really do like my son. You really do believe he’s your boyfriend.”
I straighten my spine, pinning her with a hard stare. “I don’t have an agenda—”
“Besides having Winston pay for your education?” Her sculpted brow arches up.
Shame burns through me, but I refuse to cower. “That was Winston’s idea, not mine.” Seriously, how does this lady know everything?
“Winston seems to have a lot of ‘ideas’ where you’re concerned.”
“What can I say, I’m inspiring,” I deadpan, my irritation bleeding through in my tone.
“Hmm.”
Geez, here we go with the hmms.
“He does that too, you know,” I mutter. “Perry says that when you decode the hmms, they actually mean you’re about to make someone suffer.”
Her eyes brighten at the mention of Perry, amusement briefly flashing in her expression. “Did he now?”
“I think he’s onto something. Even Keaton does the hmm when he’s mad.” I grin despite being in the dragon’s lair with her fire breathing down my neck. “Though, I haven’t heard Tinsley do it. She seems like she’s the nicest.”
“Nicer than Perry?”
Gotcha, lady. You love your kids. I found your Achilles heel.
“It’s a tossup,” I agree. “Perry did rescue me the night of Win’s party.”
“You were there?” She knows. Despite asking, she knows. I can see it in her intelligent gaze.
“Tinsley let me borrow a dress.” I shrug. “And a wig.”
“I see.” She sips her champagne as though deep in thought. “What’s a poor maid doing fraternizing with my children?”
Winston is his mother made over. Jesus.
“I told them I’m Team Constantine. Win said I could be the bat boy. Perry thinks he has a cheerleader outfit I can borrow. But I think I’m the mascot.”
She blinks hard as she studies me. “You’ve all discussed this? In great detail?”
“They’re great people,” I tell her, meeting her stare. “Win, Perry, Keaton, Tinsley. Twice now your youngest children have come to my aid. And Winston?” I can’t help but smile like a goofy lovestruck teenager. “He’s a regular Prince Charming. Except when he’s being a total asshole.”
She smirks but hides it with the palm of her hand. “Excuse me?”
“We both know he can be,” I throw back, daring her to argue. “But it’s one of his endearing qualities.”
Our conversation is cut short when Darlene fetches us to lead us to the massage room. Caroline and I don’t continue with an audience. I do my best to relax, but it’s hard when your new boyfriend’s mother who already hates you is half naked beside you. After massages, we go to individual sauna rooms and once we’ve sweat out all our toxins, we’re led to private showers. Once I’m clean and feeling like jelly, Darlene reappears to show me to a salon area where Caroline is already sitting.
“Winston tells me he’s taking you to dinner tonight,” Caroline says, her eyes never leaving her reflection in the mirror.
“He is,” I admit. “Did you speak to him?”
“Just now.” She cuts her eyes my way. “After you’ve been made up, he’s asked me to drop you at a dress shop not far from here.”
I want to kill him. It’s one thing for us to play our kinky little games together, but now his mother knows I let him dress me sometimes. My skin burns with embarrassment, but I smile at her in acknowledgment.
We spend the next couple of hours getting our hair trimmed, blown out, and styled. Then, the stylists apply makeup on us. It’s strange to have a spa day with this woman, but it hasn’t been horrible if I’m honest with myself.
“It’s a pity Maggie died,” Caroline says once we exit the building. “She was so young.”
I stop dead in my tracks, snapping my head to her. “You knew my mother?”
Her expression is unreadable as she steps closer. “I know everything, Miss Elliott.”
“But did you know her?” My voice wobbles and tears threaten. “Was she your friend?”
“Not her, no,” she admits, her blue eyes sharp as they assess me. “I knew Barb personally, though.”
I frown at her. “Who’s Barb?”
We continue to stare at one another—her searching my gaze for something, and me just trying to figure out what she’s talking about.
“Hmm,” she mutters, picking a piece of lint off my shirt. “You weren’t close to your grandmother?”
Oh… that Barb. Barbara Huffington. My mom’s mother.
“Never met her. She passed away when I was little.”
“I see.” She pauses as though she wants to say more but bites her tongue in the end. “Well, it’s a small world, isn’t it? Let’s get you dropped off.”
“We forgot to pay,” I remind her, gesturing back to the spa.
“Don’t be silly.” She ushers me into the car. I settle on the seat and try not to fidget as she scrutinizes me. The driver takes off without warning, making my stomach dip. As soon as I recognize the area we’re in, I tap on the glass partition.
“Yes, miss?” the driver asks.
“Can we stop at the candy shop on the next block?”
“Of course.”
I turn back around to discover Caroline’s lips pressed together in a grim line. Ignoring her evident annoyance, I hop out of the car as soon as it stops, promising to be right back. Once inside, I get more red gummy bears for Winston since he’s grown so fond of them. I grab a few more things and am checking out when my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Ash Elliott. Lovely hearing your voice again.”
The blood drains out of my face. “Leo.”
“Did you miss me?”
The cashier gives me my change back, and I rush away from her to one corner of the store, my bags looped on my arm.
“What do you want?” I hiss into the phone.
“Same thing as last time. More information.”
“Which I don’t have.”
“You spent the day with Caroline Constantine. Don’t fucking lie to me.”
My skin crawls at the thought of him watching me right now. Knowing exactly what I’m doing and who I’m with. Fucking stalker.
“We’re not exactly chummy,” I snap. “This is ridiculous, you know. I don’t have what you want, and I can’t get it.”
He chuckles. “You’ll get it or else everyone in this damn town will learn how tarnished the great Winston Constantine is. A dirty bastard in the bedroom who gets off on defiling little girls.”
“I’m not a little girl.”
“What happened in Paris?”
Jesus. This fucking guy.
“I don’t know,” I growl, losing patience. “I don’t know anything!”
“Find out. I need to know what Winston is up to.”
“Or else?”
“I’ll ruin him and the entire family. I’ll take down yours while I’m at it. Remember, click and click. That’s all it’ll take before the entire world will see the great Winston Constantine tearing your pretty asshole to shreds.”
Bile rises in my throat at the image of that video on every television across the globe.
“Your threats are getting old.” My false bravado is apparent when my voi
ce quavers.
“They’re promises, sweetheart, and I always make good on those. Get me more information.”
He hangs up on me.
Bastard.
I’m rattled and stressed out by the time I make it back to the car. As soon as I’m seated, I fish out a bag of red gummy bears and hand them to Caroline.
“What’s this?” Her lip curls up as though she’s insulted.
“Win loves them. He’s all out so I grabbed him some more. I took a chance that you might like them as well.” I shrug and smile. “It’s a thank you for today.”
She blinks hard several times before tucking the bag away in her purse. “Hmm.”
I can’t help but giggle because, again, she reminds me of Winston when she does that.
Her blue eyes soften, and amusement briefly dances in them before she looks out the window, her wicked witch mask back in place. “You may be able to tempt my son with sweets, but you must realize he’ll never marry you, never have you as anything more than a toy he plays with when he gets bored.”
I swallow hard. That escalated quickly.
“I love my son, but I’m telling you this not only for his sake, but for yours.” She pins me with a narrow stare. “Any designs you have on him, drop them. Do it now before you get even deeper. You’re already in over your head.” With that, she turns toward the window, her face in beautiful profile as I try to keep my emotions in check. All the lightness I thought I’d created is gone, and I realize Caroline has many layers—some warm, many cold, and all a mystery.
We ride in silence, and I text Winston to let him know I survived. I also need to feel his strength after dealing with Leo.
Me: I’m alive to tell the tale…
Win: Surprising.
Me: You better take me someplace good for dinner since I just took one for the team.
Win: The team, huh?
Me: Team Constantine.
Win: I was thinking Italian for dinner. Fancy a breadstick, Cinderelliott?
Me: You’re an asshole.
Win: It’s like you’re surprised.
This time, in a role reversal, he sends me heart eye emojis to which I respond with middle finger ones.