Charming Boyfriend
Victoria Pinder
Cinder by Ashes
Copyright©2020
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America.
Copyright © 2020 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book
All rights reserved.
This book is honestly dedicated to my aunt Adena. You are missed.
Contents
Series information
Join Victoria Pinder
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Fierce Fighter Preview
Also by Victoria Pinder
About the Author
Series information
Please check out the entire Steel Series
Rocking Player
Ruthless Financier
Wicked Cowboy
Powerful Prince
Cocky M.D.
Scottish Seducer
Legendary Rock Star
Charming Boyfriend
Fierce Fighter
Treasured
Related Stories
Scottish Wedding Date
A Scot for Christmas
Scottish Second Chance
Scottish New Year Bride
Victoria Pinder wants to hear from you! If you’re on social media, please friend her.
Join Victoria’s Bold and Foxy Street Team
You can also find her here:
Sign up for her newsletter and get a FREE novella.
Follow on Facebook
Follow on Twitter
Chapter 1
Emily Steel
“Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday, dear Emily. Happy birthday to me,” I sang to myself in the mirror.
This was the last time I’d ever have an unacknowledged birthday, ever again.
Once college started, I’d make friends and never, ever, ever come back here.
I kissed the picture of my parents that I slept beside on my small mattress in the boiler room of our unfinished basement.
When my father died, my bedroom became a reading room for my stepmother, Lana. Not that she actually read anything.
I used the old gymnastics bar that had been tossed into the basement to stretch out. The morning was usually the best time I had here. No one bothered me, and I’d grown used to the dark. Once my hands pressed to the bars, I was more confident.
Then my cracked phone vibrated on my bed. I’d had this phone for six years now. It was one of the last gifts my father had given me before his accident. Sure, it had been shut off a few times, but for now, it worked. Maybe once college started, I’d earn enough to upgrade. I plopped on my bed, as I’d clean the sheets today anyhow, and answered the unknown number.
A male voice asked, “Are you alone?”
My breath caught in my throat, but I knew that deep voice. Tears streamed down from my eyes and I held the phone tighter to my ear. “Stone, is it you?”
“Yeah, are you alone?”
My brother. He’d been kicked out the night of my father’s funeral, five long years ago. Lana, our stepmother, had locked me in the house, not even allowing me to say goodbye as she hadn’t wanted me to be influenced anymore by my uncontrollable brother. I closed my eyes and whispered, “I’m alone. What happened to you?”
“I wasn’t welcome in Lana’s home after Dad died.”
That was true. Lana had called him wild even when my father was alive. Once Dad was gone, he stayed out all night, ignored whatever she said, and refused her every order. I wasn’t welcome here either, but she had custody and the paperwork to prove she was my guardian. Nothing Stone had said mattered to her.
My heart pounded and there were goosebumps on my arms like I’d be caught at any moment. I asked, “Why didn’t you take me with you?”
Stone sighed. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t afford to fight her. You were thirteen and I didn’t have a job or a clue what I’d do.”
I hugged my knees to my chest as I rocked on my bed. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. Lana might hear me. But I said, “I wanted my brother, not this life.”
Stone said quickly, “Happy Birthday. You’re eighteen now and you have a choice about your future. So what’s your plan?”
Another tear fell. Someone remembered. I had real family who’d never lock me in a dark basement at night knowing that I used to be afraid of the dark. I’d conquered that fear, though.
My lips moved to answer him, but then the speaker in my room buzzed and Lana’s voice went through my skin like bullets, "Emily, set the table."
I pressed the button on the speaker and lowered my phone so Stone couldn’t say anything as I said, “Yes, Stepmother.”
I took my hand off the speaker button and paused in case she had another order. My door would be unlocked in a moment, so I said quickly, “Stone, I have to go. But look, I start college in the fall.”
My brother still sounded like he cared about me as he asked, “Where?”
“Austen University,” I said and lifted my chin. In seven weeks, I’d have a new life, and I’d never be hidden away or ignored again. My counselors at school had set me up for success. I just needed to focus, work hard, and never be distracted.
Soon I’d never be a bother to anyone. I would take care of myself.
My brother whistled and said, “I knew you were the smart one. That’s Ivy League, Sis.”
And East Coast. I’d worked hard to get into the best.
The speaker crackled and Lana screamed, "Emily!"
She must have unlocked the door, and I wasn’t standing there. I pressed the button and prayed she hadn’t heard the conversation with my brother. My chest was tight, and my fingers shook as I held the button. “On my way.”
I ignored the pulse that raced through me and whispered to my phone in case she was still upstairs, “Stone, look, I might need a place to stay for the summer. I don’t need much room, just a couch until school starts.”
“I can pick you up in an hour.”
“No,” I said as I jumped to toss my house sneakers on. “Let me call you and we can set it up soon.”
“Awesome.”
We hung up. I quickly saved his number and pushed my phone deep into my black leggings and underwear, where I had learned Lana would never f
ind it on me.
I checked that my hair was tied behind my head. Then I bounced up the stairs two at a time. The door was cracked, so I knew she’d unlocked it. I let my heels press against the polished hardwood floor as I raced to the kitchen.
I hadn’t had time last night to prepare for this morning, so I quickly set the coffee to boil and sliced the bread. Then, I spread cream cheese, bananas, butter, and avocados on separate plates, all with sides of melon and walnuts, and placed them on the tray. The coffee machine finished brewing and I poured it all into a carafe and set the second pot to brew.
I poured three cups and set the silver carafe on the tray. At least it wasn’t eggs-for-breakfast Saturday, or pancake-and-waffles Sunday. Workdays meant more efficient meals.
Stone’s voice stayed inside me like an anchor. I’d have my brother back soon. It was like part of my heart had been missing, and now it had returned to my life. Lana had railed that he’d been horrible, and I was lucky to be done with him. But Stone was the only one left who remembered my parents like I did. So I had a bounce in my step as I carried the tray to the dining room.
Lana sat at the long table, devoid of any flowers, but polished till it shone, as she read her emails on her laptop. I set her cream cheese plate beside her to serve without interrupting, but her pale blue eyes met mine and she said, “You were slow, Emily. And we both know it’s not your brain but your hard work that got you into college. Don’t get lazy.”
Right. In a moment, she’d compare me to a mouse because of my brown hair, the color of dried dirt. She’d said it so many times, I had started to believe that maybe she was right, and I was horrible to look at. But today that didn’t matter. I curled my lips higher in a forced smile and set her blue mug beside her and said, “Here is your coffee, Stepmother.”
She curled her thin, perfect fingers, that had once played grand pianos in concerts, around the cup and snapped, “Excellent. Leave the carafe.”
I put the carafe beside her and moved behind her chair, carrying my tray. “Yes, ma’am.”
She finished her sip of coffee then said, “Go and get Cleo and Coco. We’re going shopping today.”
My shoulders tightened. Today was Monday and the farmers’ market. This meant soap-selling was on me, so I said, “Yes. And I will set up in the booth.”
She stared at her laptop screen and not me. “Bring me your receipts once you return.”
“Of course,” I said, as I took a step to leave.
My mother had taught me to make soaps when I was a little girl, and we had always had fun together. Now, I made them on my own, but Lana and I split the profits. At least she had let me earn something. Lana’s lips unstuck and that sound was like a razor to my skin as she said, “And, Emily?”
“Yes?” I swallowed and faced her.
Her nose wrinkled as her gaze went up and down my green shirt and black leggings. Then she turned back toward her screen and said, “You look awful. Clean your face before you try to sell anything. Not that you have a shot at ever being truly presentable.”
I might, if I had a chance to take care of myself more often. But I never needed to be in society liker her daughters, so I didn’t deserve it. I was lucky to be able to shower. Never mind. In seven weeks I’d disappear from this family for good. So I ignored the impulse to argue and simply said, “Of course.”
Her nose wrinkled, like I smelled. I slipped out without waiting for the usual insults on my home-cut hair and my lack of good skin. As I headed up the stairs, I noticed some deer grazing outside the window.
Nature always calmed me. I’d have to check on my vegetable garden today. Memories of how my mom used to speak to her tomatoes in the garden, like they were each precious to her, were like a warm breeze against my skin.
I made it up the stairs and chose to face the firing squad first. I flipped the bedroom light on and shoved the plate and a cup of coffee on a side table. “Cleo, your mother wishes you to go shopping.”
Dark, almost black, eyes glared up at me like she’d murder me. “Fuck her and fuck you.”
How Cleo was so popular in school, I’d never get. She was worse than those girls in the movie Mean Girls. Every normal girl cringed when she opened her mouth. And I lived with her, and her dream of being the perfect daughter Lana intended her to be. But soon it wouldn’t matter.
To avoid more of Hurricane Cleo, I closed the door. My shoulders dropped. I’d saved the best for last. At least there was one almost-nice person left in my house that had once been filled with love. Coco had my brother’s old room, but it was now painted white with pink trim. Once a week or more, she’d slip things to me down the air vents, things that Lana refused to give me. And she often countered her mother’s insults and told me I was pretty and smart. The adrenaline slowed down, and I tapped on the door.
My blonde, blue-eyed stepsister, the former cheerleader and prom coordinator, was already dressed in her usual pink—today a skirt and white shirt—and she was brushing her hair.
“Coco, your mother wishes you to go shopping.”
“I can’t stand shopping with her,” she said. “All she does is insult anyone who has a different opinion than her.”
She grabbed the coffee as she pressed her shoulder to mine. “Austen is going to be so much better for you.”
My skin jolted. She was the first person today to be nice to my face. I held the now empty tray between us and lowered my head. “I can’t wait. We’re both almost done here.”
“You’ve had it way worse.” Coco’s effervescent smile was pure. She always had her choice of boys, because she was the best of all of us. And, unlike her mother or sister, she had determination and drive. Coco had a way about her that made people want to join her in whatever she did.
I’d always wanted to be more like Coco.
“I wish I’d gotten better grades and was going to a better school,” she said.
She’d join a sorority and lead her team while she had a date every night of the week at school, I thought.
I reached for the door, as we both knew we couldn’t actually be friends. “Have fun today.”
“Wait!” She said, and ran toward her closet.
I let go of the doorknob and hugged my tray as I asked, “Yes?”
She took out a red and gold gift bag with matching tissue paper peeking out of the top. “This is for you. Happy Birthday.”
I put the tray down and hugged her. I wasn’t entirely alone here. “Coco, you’ve made living here tolerable.”
She hugged me back, like she actually was my sister and accepted that I tried to be a good person without judging me. Then she let go and said, “I never understood why my mother is so mean to you, but please don’t tell her about this.”
I placed her small gift on my tray like I’d deliver it, and I pressed my other hand to my heart. “I won’t. But I’ll cherish this.”
“Need me to put it down the vent?”
“No, I can hide it easily enough. See you soon.”
She opened the door and held it for me.
I headed back downstairs, and then outside to the small shelter for the garden, and the side shed that held my cold shower and clean clothes. The soaps I’d packaged for the farmers’ market were there, all lined up and ready.
A few minutes later, as I stood under the cold water, I smelled the lavender soap that my mom used to lather me with, back in the days when I was allowed a warm bath, and I relaxed.
Soon, I would be able to remember my past without having to hide my feelings. I’d be free. After my dad died, Lana had loved to remind me that she could have sent me into foster care, away from this house forever, if I hadn’t behaved.
I dressed and put on gardening gloves and a cap to cover my wet hair. But before I went into the garden to dig out the ingredients to add to my lye, oils and soap mixture, I took my phone out and called my brother back. Lana never came into the garden as she hated any type of bug, so now was the best time to talk.
He answered on
the second ring and I didn’t care if my face wrinkled forever as I cried. I had a brother again. It was like a life that I had almost forgotten had resurfaced with the sound of his breathing. I refused to wipe my eyes as I said, “Stone?”
“Emily, are you free to talk now?” He was breathing fast, as if he’d been exercising.
“I’m in the garden shed,” I said. “I’m working the farmers’ market today.”
“How are you paying for Austen?”
My brother had left our home without a dime and I had no idea where he had been or what he’d done since the funeral. I hugged my waist and let the warm summer air brush against me. “I applied for every grant I could find and I have a good scholarship. And with the financial aid for housing and my small savings, I’ll be okay.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
Damn. I wiped away another tear. If only he was here and could hold me again. I lifted my chin and stared at the lavender flowers. “In seven weeks, I’m moving to Rhode Island.”
“Do you need help?”
Well, I’d intended to take the city bus to the main terminal in Pittsburgh, and travel from there to Austen, Rhode Island, with one bag. “I … need you, Stone. I cried for years after you’d left me.”
The sound of his voice was like a tsunami of the past clobbering me over the head when he said, “Lana never let me see you.”
I believed that. The day of the funeral, she’d locked me in my room on the second floor and I’d cried as she fought my skinny brother for the keys to his car. He’d taken the keys in the end, and waved to me, but ultimately, he drove away.
I’d always guessed that Lana barred him from the house, though she just said she was done with him—and with me, if I asked for him. She’d told me she’d found drugs on him, but I never believed her. Stone and Lana were like oil and water, but he’d been good to me, and listened to me. I rested my head on the wall of the shed and asked, “What are you doing?”
Charming Boyfriend: A Cinderella Retelling (Steel Series Book 8) Page 1