Fantasy: A Modern Romance Inspired by Cinderella (Seductively Ever After)

by Kim Carmichael

  Of course, Knight could show up and take one look at her real self, see she was nothing but a spoiled socialite with no real job, shake his head and leave.

  Then again, he could show up, prove to be some psychotic murderer and do away with them all.

  In the worst possibility, he could not show up. She would spend the night watching the clock and at 12:01 truly have to face her life.

  “It’s six oh two and thirty-seven seconds.” Belinda jolted her out of her reverie.

  She focused on Bobbie.

  Bobbie nodded. “I have the same.”

  At last, she averted her eyes to Bernadette.

  Her assistant held up one finger and stared down at her phone. “I now have...” She drew out the words. “Six oh three!”

  “Good job.” Well, her assistants were on the ball. “I want updates every five minutes. I don’t want to have to look at the clock.”

  “Don’t speak, ma’am.” Brush in hand, her makeup artist took hold of her chin. "I am working on your lashes, this is precise work.”

  “Try not to move either.” Her hairdresser held up a curling iron.

  Her stylist swooped into the room with four people behind him carrying various boxes, hangers and bags. “I have your dress,” he announced. “Once we sew you into it, if you could try not to breathe that would be helpful.”

  She ground her teeth together. Normally, this was her favorite time of any event, the moment where all the hours of planning the right look, the right dress, the right designers all came together. This time all she wanted to do was throw this outfit on and get to the party. What if he got lost, what if she missed him, what if he didn’t show? She shuddered.

  “Time!” she screamed out, causing the crew around her to jump back.

  “Miss Windsome, it’s six oh seven. You had one more minute to go until we updated you,” Bernadette said.

  “Only four minutes have passed.” She shooed everyone away and got up. How was she going to make it through another five hours and fifty-three minutes? At least she did the math fast. “How long is tonight going to last?”

  Belinda raised her hand. “We have quite some time to go, at least six or seven hours.”

  “It’s six oh eight now,” Bobbie offered.

  “That was only sixty seconds.” She pressed her hand to her chest.

  “Let’s get Ryane into her dress and then we can do any final touch ups.” Her designer corralled her over to the mirrors set up for this amazing moment.

  Somehow she managed to stand there while no less than five people dressed her in her light pink formfitting gown with an intricate design of matching semi-precious jewels sewed into the bodice along with the matching shoes. At the time she picked the dress, she was making a stand with her color, with file folders, with her platform to bring more pink to the world. Now she only wanted to put on a pair of jeans and trudge through the forest. Her assistants counted off another thirty-five minutes that seemed to take several hundred hours.

  “We need to take this off.” Her stylist touched the bracelet she found from Knight. “It doesn’t go with your outfit at all.”

  “No!” She snatched her arm away. “That stays.” Until the moment Knight didn’t show, she would wear the simple jewelry.

  “It’s yellow gold in a sea of platinum and diamonds,” the man whined.

  “It stays.” She let out her verdict.

  “Fine, I’ll cover it up with something else.” The man chose an extra wide bracelet and fastened it to her arm.

  She stared at her own image in the mirrors while people fussed over her, making sure everything was perfect, her curls, the gloss on her lips, every accessory from her rings to her bracelet to the jeweled tiara in her hair giving off the ideal amount of sparkle.

  “You look like a princess.”

  A voice she recognized all to well intruded into her space and she glanced over to find Patrick entering her suite. “A gorgeous princess who looks almost ready for her ball.”

  Dressed in a full tuxedo and tails, Ryane had to admit that Patrick was the personification of a prince when she wanted a renegade. “Almost?” she asked.

  “I’m sure there are a few finishing touches that need to be made tonight, but we will start with this.” He reached into his tuxedo jacket and produced a pristine pink rose. “Just something for you to hold when you’re not holding my hand.”

  Her heart sank. The man said all the right words, did all the right things, and yet…

  Bobbie jumped and waved her arms. “Six forty-eight!”

  “Are we counting down something?” Patrick took her hand and looked her over. “Perhaps the time until midnight?”

  Her stomach twisted. What did he know? “Huh?”

  “With everything going on did you forget that midnight tonight is when you gave the deadline for signing the contract on the Los Padres property?” He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the door.

  “Oh, yes. That was your idea.” She managed to inhale some air.

  “Perhaps some other magical things will happen around midnight.” His tone teased her.

  “Do you think so?” How did she get such a great guy involved in her mess?

  “I know for a fact.” He turned and bowed to everyone else in the room. “May I have her now?”

  Her entire crew clapped.

  “Are you ready to go to your party, Miss Windsome?” He offered her his arm.

  After a pause, she placed her arm in his. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I say this will be a night to remember.” He winked.

  Belinda dashed out into the hallway. “Six fifty-three.”

  “We better not be late.” Patrick led her away.

  No one there knew what she was truly waiting for, maybe not even her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Once again, Nash found himself driving through the canyon, and though he knew each turn by heart, he was completely lost, without a goal, without direction. Yes, he could go work on the cottage, yes, he could go play some music, and yes, he could get some of his long neglected work done at his apartment, but as he drove away from Upton’s, he decided to take the night off, with no commitments to anybody.

  The mountain road descended into the city, leaving him in Hollywood, his proverbial stomping grounds. If he went right he could end up near some of his favorite clubs, places where he would be treated as rock royalty, much to Stacy’s chagrin. If he turned left he could go by Erik’s.

  Instead, he glanced over at his dashboard and caught sight of the time.

  “Seven o’clock.” A shudder ran through him. He only had to make it through the next five hours. In five hours his life would belong to him again. There would be no questions about the cottage. There would be no more Petals.

  At his thoughts, a wave of nausea wracked him.

  In five hours there would be no Petals.

  It would be over.

  They would be over.

  The car behind him honked and he looked up to see the light turned green then jolted the car forward, causing the offer papers on the cottage to fall on the floorboard.

  How could he give it up?

  Was he keeping it out of spite or memories?

  Would he ever be able to return to it and not think about Petals?

  What would she do when he didn’t show up to her office party?

  He tried to take a deep breath, but came up short. None of this was his concern anymore. They had no future. He was a mess who would never fit in her world. Stacy only expressed what everyone else was too kind to say. It was merely the finality of the situation that was making him second-guess his decision.

  That and the fact he fell in love with the woman.

  He fell in love with her.

  He pounded his fist into the steering wheel. What on earth was he doing? How could he simply let her leave without even giving her the chance of seeing the real him? It was time to be a man, but he had to be the best man he could be.<
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  He glanced down at himself and ran his hand over his shaggy beard. Nothing said he was the one for her like showing up in tattered jeans with a matching stained t-shirt to a formal affair. In truth, he owned nothing that would fit with what Petals needed.

  No doubt he was crazy, all this would do was prove they weren’t meant to be together.

  After fifteen minutes of driving around Hollywood and counting down the minutes to midnight, he ended up behind Erik’s theatre. With a shake of his head, he got out of the car and used his cane to knock on the door.

  Christine, Christine’s stomach, and Erik all opened the door.

  “I told you he wasn’t dead.” Erik put his arm around his wife.

  “I knew you were alive, my hormones are making me crazy.” Christine smiled and went to hug him, her stomach banging into him first.

  “You look horrible.” Erik winced.

  “Thank you.” Nash bent forward to give Christine a hug.

  “Don’t touch me.” She held her arms out. “Erik is right, you do look horrible. What happened to you? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for the party?”

  “I think you can see by my appearance that I am not going to any party.” At last, sense found him.

  “Christine, move back so I can properly slam the door in Nash’s face.” Erik held on to the edge of the door.

  “How can I go? I look awful, the two of you both confirmed it.”

  Erik gently moved Christine aside and got up in his face. “If you didn’t look like something a cat dragged in and then vomited up, would you go and not leave the woman looking for you all night, and breaking her heart?”

  Nash scratched his nails down his scalp. “I don’t know what I’m doing. All she’s going to see is an old rock star who is dim and dingy.”

  “Do you love her, Nash?” Christine asked.

  First he shrugged, then he nodded. “Yes.”

  “Erik, he loves her, we have to fix him.” Christine’s voice broke.

  “Come on.” Erik took hold of his shirt and dragged him inside. “Let’s start by getting you clean.”

  “We will have you looking just like a handsome prince by the time we are done with you.” Christine clapped.

  Before he had a chance to protest, ask Erik or Christine if he was doing the right thing, or turn around and get back in his car, his friend closed the door. Keeping hold of him, Erik led him through the back of the theatre and down the stairs below the stage and down to the lush living spaces Erik had created.

  “Let’s start by decontaminating you.” Erik thrust him inside a huge bathroom and turned on the shower. “Don’t come out until the water runs clear. There’s a fresh razor in the drawer and towels in the cabinet. Remember to lather rinse and repeat.”

  His friend left, closing the door behind him.

  Nash put his cane aside and went through the motions of getting undressed and stepping into the shower. The hot water steamed around him and for quite some time he stood there wondering how he was going to pull this off. Was he actually going to do this? Go to the party? See Petals?

  Still, he got himself clean, returned his beard to its pristine condition and blew dry his hair, finally emerging back into the hallway with only his cane and a towel wrapped around his waist. The cool air blasted him and he shook his head. He couldn’t see himself going to her, but then again he couldn’t see himself not going. For too long he had been stagnant, maybe even since the accident. Now was the time to act.

  A pair of boots in her hand, Christine trundled out from one of the rooms, stopped, and furrowed her eyebrows.

  “What’s wrong?” He gave a quick glance down to the towel to make sure he covered everything up in front of Erik’s wife.

  She took him all in and tapped a finger to her chin. “I’m not sure. I think I always pictured you with a bunch of tattoos.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint.” He let out a laugh.

  “Not that she should be looking.” Erik motioned for him to follow him into one of the rooms. “I found exactly what you should wear.”

  Before entering, he elbowed Erik. “Once I’m in public with her, she’s going to know who I am.”

  “We are personally going to make sure of it.” Erik rubbed his hands together and handed him the boots. “I want you to always remember who you are.” He pushed him into the room and closed the door.

  Racks and racks costumes from the theatre lined the walls, but on a rack right in the middle of the huge room was the attire Erik deemed appropriate for tonight.

  Back in the days of Spectre, Erik was the one who dressed up and nothing was off limits. Of all of them, he was the showman, the one who stood out, the one who performed. Nash preferred jeans and t-shirts with maybe some funky jewelry to round out his persona. If they attended an award show, he would add a jacket to his normal selection and because of his position in life, anything he wore was acceptable.

  However, tonight he felt as if he should fit in.

  What Erik selected was definitely a stand out.

  He limped over to the clothes. Only rock stars could get away with the outfit his friend chose. On anyone else they would look like they were trying too hard. Not even a movie star could pull this off.

  Maybe this was exactly what he needed to show Petals his true self.

  He let the towel fall and slipped on the pants. Normal black tuxedo pants that somehow fit perfectly.

  With a shake of his head, he put on the white button down shirt complete with jeweled buttons and ruffles at the neck and cuffs. The damn thing must have been used in some Victorian era play.

  Lastly, he donned the jacket. At least Erik had the sense to pick out something with tails, but what made the piece noteworthy was the gold and silver embroidery over the entire coat. The entire ensemble tight roped between a costume fit for Halloween, something military, and something old world.

  He put on the boots and stood in front of the mirror. For the first time in a long time he felt like Nash Cinder, if only he didn’t have to carry around his dilapidated cane.

  “Are you dressed?” Erik knocked, then opened the door.

  “Oh, it’s perfect!” Christine clapped.

  “There is one final thing missing.” From behind his back, Erik produced what appeared to be a glass walking stick. “I think this fits your look a little more.”

  Christine put her hand over her mouth.

  He took hold of the art piece with the intricate carvings on it, and what appeared to be a huge jewel right on top. “Is this strong enough.”

  “Just use it for support, that’s all you need.” Erik patted his back. “Now let’s go, your carriage awaits, my friend. Christine and I will take you there and hopefully escort you and your princess home.”

  Before they left he glanced back at his reflection in the mirror once more. For the first time he was going to meet his Petals as Nash Cinder and a jolt ran though him. This was all he had to offer, but maybe for once he could be enough. Hopefully, she wanted him as much as she wanted Knight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  In theory, counting down the time in five minute increments seemed like a great idea, but after over four hours of having one of her three assistants give her the time, it seemed more like a countdown to Ryane’s ultimate failure.

  Knight wasn’t coming.

  No, her Knight would have come by nine, he would have taken her into his arms and strolled her to the middle of the dance floor for everyone to see them. He would have kissed her and told her his name, and she would then admit her identity.

  Yes, her father would be angry at first, but he would understand when he saw the love in her eyes. He would realize in all this craziness she managed to find the one man for her.

  Anyone else would look at this event, these surroundings and call it a success. The grand ballroom at the Crown Rose Hotel was a magnificent space with massive chandeliers giving off the ideal light to make everyone look their best, a dramatic staircase to give ev
eryone the entrance they deserved, a gleaming wooden dance floor, and tables with gorgeous flower arrangements to make the whole place feel even more like a fairy tale.

  “A little bubbly for the woman who makes my life sparkle.” Holding two glasses of champagne, Patrick came over. “I say we propose a toast.”

  “What are we toasting?” She glanced up at the man. He deserved better. Along with everything else that was going to happen after midnight, after she swept up her pride, and was away from the crowd of people who showed up for her event, she promised herself she would take Patrick aside and tell him they didn’t have the right connection. Yes, she wanted to want him, but she didn’t have the ache, the pain, those all-consuming thoughts, and he should have someone that felt that way about him.

  Honestly, after the clock struck the designated hour, she didn’t really know what her next steps were, she only knew that she was going to do it on her own, and if her father didn’t like it, then she would resign as Director of nothing and go live her life. She had money and now she knew she didn’t need it to be happy. If given the chance, she would have given everything up for a small cottage with the one man she wanted.

  “Eleven twenty-seven,” Bobbie muttered under her breath as she walked by.

  In thirty-three minutes the torture would be over.

  “I say with all this focus on time we toast the top of the next hour.” Patrick winked and tapped his glass against hers.

  It took every bit of her strength to put the glass to her lips, but she didn’t drink. All midnight would bring was everything she didn’t have. Her hand shook and she spilled a bit of the drink.

  “Are you all right?” Patrick produced a handkerchief and helped dab up the liquid.

  Maybe she should at least get one thing off her chest. “Patrick.” She downed the drink.

  “I know.” He followed suit and finished off his champagne and put his arm around her.

  “You do?” Unfortunately, her glass was empty.