by K. Webster
He wants to know Constantine secrets that I not only don’t have, but I wouldn’t give to him anyway. But the idea of him blasting our sex life to the world turns my stomach.
Dad will be disgusted.
Caroline will be horrified.
I tremble as I wonder how in the hell I’ll get myself out of this mess. Winston doesn’t know Leo’s been harassing me. If he did . . .
What would he do?
One thing’s for sure, he certainly wouldn’t roll over and take it.
Against my own will, my eyes lift to track Leo. He’s seated at a table near the front door, his dark eyes locked on me. His attention falls to his phone, and then mine buzzes from inside my purse.
It’s him.
I’m tempted to ignore him, but something tells me that won’t bode well for me.
I scramble to grab my phone. The last thing I need or want is for Leo to come over here.
Asshole Stalker: Why is Constantine in MY building?
Great. Here we go.
Me: He misses it.
Asshole Stalker: Don’t fuck with me, sweetheart.
Me: I don’t know why aside from the fact he likes the steak here!
A picture comes through and it’s one of the many explicit ones Winston has taken of me. My face burns with embarrassment and my gut twists almost painfully.
Me: You’re a pig.
Asshole Stalker: Just reminding you I hold all the cards. Again, why is Constantine in MY building?
“They’re all staring at us,” Winston rumbles, his tone low and deadly. “The question is, why is Leo so fixated on you?”
I let out a helpless whimper, locking onto Winston’s icy blue gaze. “I don’t know.”
Liar.
“I see.” His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Seems my mother and Nate know. It seems Leo fucking Morelli knows. Don’t think for a second I believe that you don’t know. Apparently, I’m the only damn idiot who doesn’t know.”
“Please, let’s just leave.” My whisper barely makes it over to him. Tears brim, and I make the mistake of glancing down at my phone. More filthy pictures.
“I want the truth. Who are you texting?”
The tears leak out, and I shoot Winston a devastated look. “Win . . .”
“Answer one question. Yes or no.” The air crackles with tension as Winston peels me apart layer by layer with just one look. He’s always been good at getting inside my head. With Winston, I don’t know that I ever had a chance to keep him out. “Is Leo Morelli texting you?”
“Win, please.”
“Answer the goddamn question.”
I swipe away the tears on one cheek with the palm of my hand. Glancing down, I find several text threats and more pictures. Leo is assuming I told Winston which means I’ve broken my end of the agreement. He’s going to send these pictures and videos to every news outlet and television station.
I’m going to be sick.
“I’m so sorry,” I choke out. “I can explain.”
“How long have you kept this from me?” he demands, his voice barely audible. “How long have you been talking to that rat behind my back about who the fuck knows what?”
I sniffle as I admit the inevitable, “Since your birthday party.”
His icy blue eyes harden as the betrayal of what I’ve done becomes clear in his mind.
He’s no Prince Charming.
He’s the king of everything.
A master manipulator. A puppeteer pulling all the strings. A designer of a tricky game.
Wicked. Ruthless. A bit crazy.
And I’ve wronged him in the worst possible way.
Don’t miss the stunning conclusion of K Webster’s Cinderella Series in The Glass Slipper.
Betraying the most powerful man in New York wasn’t something I ever envisioned when I first started playing games with Winston Constantine. But he’s engaged in far more dangerous games than ours, and his enemies are out for blood.
Winston has my heart, the Morellis have incriminating photos, and I’m left with nothing except three stepbrothers who want to hurt me and a future in doubt. I knew Winston wouldn’t be my prince charming, but that didn’t stop me from falling for him.
After all, the slippers fit, and I let myself believe I’d be dancing with Winston forever.
Until too much truth comes to light.
Until I realize instead of ruling the board, I was just a pawn.
In the end, I have only one question. When his game with me is over, will I be able to pretend as if the glass slipper wasn’t a perfect fit?
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