The Cinderella Arrangement

by Vanessa Waltz

  I nodded. “Can’t you set her up with one of your friends?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I can try.”

  I held him tightly against my chest. “Thanks. I love you.”

  His lips, soft against my cheek, raised a thrill inside me. I melted into his touch, bewildered by my love for him. I could never understand how he made me feel so complete. Luke helped me mend the hole in my heart. I didn’t think I would ever be afraid of anything again.

  “I love you, too.”

  If you enjoyed the book, please don’t forget to write a review!

  The sequel to The Cinderella Arrangement is included in your copy. Keep scrolling down to read Natalie’s story! It is a 60k word, standalone novel with a HEA. This modern fairy-tale has a darker tone. It deals with a hero coming to terms with a terrible tragedy in his past, and learning to forgive himself and love again. I hope you enjoy it!

  The Cinderella Arrangement II

  1

  The lights in the mall seemed too bright. Jessica’s blonde head bobbed in and out of view as she disappeared behind the dress racks in the petite section. I felt like a zombie as I walked toward her, rifling through dresses and feeling nothing but indifference for the styles.

  Too flashy. Too many sequins. What is this, prom? I hate baby doll dresses; they make me look like a child. No, no, no.

  Jessica dragged me out to the mall to go shopping with her because there was this party at her boyfriend’s house. They made up months ago.

  Ben and I were still over.

  You’ve seen the Facebook photos. He’s moving on.

  Less than a month after we broke up, I woke up to a splash of photos of my ex with another woman on Facebook: Ben sipping drinks with his coworkers in a flashy lounge, with his arm wrapped around a leggy brunette, her cleavage almost spilling from her dress. Seeing those hands I knew so well touching another woman gutted me. It was like he reached in and grabbed a fistful of my innards—and yanked. He made me feel worthless, and that was probably his intention.

  It was eight months since we broke up.

  Eight months of Facebook stalking and crying into tissues and my whole body shaking with sobs that exhausted me and left me so tired in the morning I could barely function. Eight months of that horrible, empty feeling in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I hated him. Rinse and repeat.

  You broke up with him. I reminded myself of that ten times a day, at least.

  I ripped aside another dress with a little more force than I needed, and Jessica raised an eyebrow at me.

  “What do you think about this?” She showed me a bright-red knit number and draped it over her body.

  “It’s a cute, but I’m not sure it’s appropriate for a cocktail party.”

  She bit her lip and nodded in agreement. “Maybe I’ll buy it anyways.”

  “Who will be at this party?”

  “Oh, it’ll be mostly Luke’s coworkers. It’s a launch party for his campaign so maybe a couple departments.”

  I frowned. “And he’s having it at his house?” I couldn’t imagine all those people fitting into a home in the city.

  “Just wait till you see it. It’s huge.” She took my hand. “It’ll be so much fun. There will be a band, and he’s hiring caterers with the most amazing food.”

  “Yeah, it sounds cool!”

  Jessica’s eyes were knitted together. Apparently she sensed my lack of enthusiasm.

  “Listen, I know you don’t feel like going, but you haven’t been out in ages. We used to do a lot of stuff and now we barely hang out.”

  I tried to hide my burning face, ripping dresses across too quickly. Her saddened voice made my emotions, which were running high these days, rise into my throat, constricting it.

  “I’m trying to get over him.”

  “I know, hon.”

  More than anything, I wanted to go home and retreat into my room to watch reruns on Netflix. There was a constant push and pull between loneliness and solitude. Whenever I was alone, I craved company. When I wasn’t, I couldn’t wait until I was alone again. But I couldn’t keep doing this. Jessica was right, I needed to get out of my funk.

  A slim black dress caught my eye, and I pulled it out. It had a lace back and shoulders.

  “That’s cute!”

  Relief washed over me when I bought it and walked outside into the blinding sunshine with Jessica.

  When we got home, I shoved the shopping bag in a corner of my closet. Back in my room, I grabbed my sketchpad, ruler, and pencils and spread them over my desk. The best light was in the kitchen, but I needed complete silence to work on art. My environment needed to be a cocoon of artistic energy. My eyes roved over the walls, where I pasted photographs of some of my favorite corporate designs: Apple, Google, and Facebook. The sleek modern designs. Classic minimalism.

  One day, I’ll design something amazing for a company known all around the world.

  But for now, I was working on penguins. My boss gave me the assignment to redo the pamphlets for the penguin exhibit. It was one of the most popular exhibits at the San Francisco Bay Aquarium, especially among children. I drew a line across the page and my hand flinched. An image of a wooden spoon cracking over my knuckles echoed through the years and I tightened my fist.

  It was only a sketch, but it had to be perfect. I used the ruler even for the text; to make sure the crossed “T”s were straight.

  Hours later, when I finished perfecting every little detail, I sat back and admired my work. Now, it was time to do it all over again. This time on Photoshop and Illustrator. By the time it was done, dark orange light glowed on my wall through my blinds. I stared at my stupid, cartoony graphic that burned my eyeballs for the past few hours.

  What an empty life you have. Work, work, work.

  I spent my whole Saturday working, wasting most of my time on a sketch I didn’t really need. The emptiness of my life swallowed me like a black hole in my chest, always needing more, more, and more.

  I’m one of those stupid girls who made everything in life about their boyfriend.

  Every weekend, holiday, and party revolved around him. And now he was gone, there was nothing to invest my energy in, besides work and my possessions.

  Get a grip, Natalie. He’s just a man, and not a very good one, anyway.

  The town car whisked across the Bay Bridge and I stared out the window at the indiscernible black, rolling hills in the distance. The car stopped in a quiet suburb deep within the San Francisco and the noise in my head stopped. I could hardly believe that such an ordinary place could exist in the city. The homes had driveways. I stared. Some of the houses were tall, vertical and pastel-colored. We were in front of a giant, white Victorian mansion that looked like a small castle. On the side was a greenhouse. The black gate opened and pink and yellow tulips lined the driveway and encircled the whole house. I got out of the car and walked up the steps, surrounded by white roses. As I passed the glass house, I realized that it was a huge solarium, not a greenhouse. The floor was laid out in marble in a checkered black-and-white pattern. Beautiful patio furniture covered the gleaming floor and guests sat in wicker chairs, enjoying themselves, drinking champagne, and admiring the view.

  As I blundered inside, I couldn’t stop staring. There were countless rooms: a room for the pool table, a library, and a study. Upstairs on the second level was a massive patio with its own garden and above that I could see porches sticking out of the bedroom doors. There were several private courtyards surrounding the first floor where one could sit on a sunny day, obscured from all traffic, and read. It was incredible. I grabbed one of the bubbly glasses of champagne bobbing around the rooms on gold-plated trays and wandered.

  The alcohol slipped down my throat as I walked toward the crowd of well-dressed men and women, most of them Luke’s business associates. They were too intimidating to approach, so I wandered around on my own. He hosted the party in this ridiculously gorgeous mansion to celebrate the success of his multi-mill
ion dollar business deal. As his girlfriend’s best friend, I was invited. Jessica wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. She refused to leave me alone in the apartment. Part of me loved that about her. Another part, the part closest to my bitter heart, was sick to death of being coddled.

  My fingers bit into the now-empty champagne glass. I walked through the mansion as the lounge music boomed in my ears, marveling at the number of stairs and the art displayed on the walls. I passed the living room where a Steinway & Sons grand piano stood. It probably cost him at least forty thousand and I knew for a fact that neither of them could play. I sank my finger down on the ivory middle c and winced as a harsh note glared at me. Not only that, but it was out of tune!

  The glass tiers of intricate petit-fours and Kara’s Cupcakes, which had been customized with golden “P”s just for this party, and the bottles of champagne raised out of dripping ice to provide an endless pour of bubbly excitement—all of it irritated me. They were showing off.

  Look at me! Look at what I have! It was excessive.

  I wanted to spit. I hated myself for being so jealous.

  The muscles on my face ached from smiling too much. I grabbed the door that led outside and pushed it. Desperate to get away from all the noise and people, I stepped into the cold outdoors and sighed with relief. I wanted to be alone so I could feel like crap without anyone asking me if there was something wrong.

  A redwood porch with tables and chairs overlooked a sprawling garden and backyard. I clutched my shrug around my shoulders and shivered in the freezing, starless night. I set the champagne glass on the rail and leaned so that the wood dug into my ribs. The noise of the party shut out, I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

  “Bad night?”

  A husky voice shattered my sanctuary and my body turned—right into another body.

  “Whoa.” I looked up and saw a broad chest. I backed away and saw a man standing in front of me, looking disheveled in his dark gray suit. It wasn’t his attractiveness I noticed right away; it was the restlessness of his black eyes, which seemed to hold me still.

  A slow smirk stretched across his rugged face. His hair flared around him, just as wild as the rest of his appearance: loose tie and shirt untucked, a shoelace trailing behind his scuffed patent leather shoes. He looked drunk, except he held nothing in his hands. There was no stink of alcohol.

  “Speak for yourself.” I felt a surge of annoyance toward the man who spotted my dark mood. Surprise registered in my brain. Normally, I wouldn’t be able to talk to an attractive guy like him, but I didn’t find him intimidating at all.

  He gave me an unconcerned shrug. “What, this?” He tugged his collar. “This is my low-effort party outfit.”

  “It’s…fetching,” I said, suppressing a grin.

  A smile flickered on my face and he grinned back. “I hate parties, but I’m always expected to go to them.”

  Even in his haphazard attire, he was handsome. He had a straight nose and a hollowed face. His flushed cheeks would have made him look like some dark angel if it weren’t for his narrowed eyes. How could someone be so attractive but look like shit at the same time?

  “I don’t want to be here, either.”

  Something about him made me feel like being open. I shivered as he drew closer. There was so much energy behind his eyes that I felt suddenly warm and my skin trembled with the abrupt change. A jolt of electricity shot up my leg as his jacket slid from his sinewy shoulders so he could drape it around me. His hand rested for a few seconds on my shoulder and I felt the absence of his warmth when he took it away like a swift fist to my stomach.

  “T—thanks.” I stuck my hand out from his jacket. “I’m Natalie Porter.”

  He squeezed it. My heart fluttered as another surge shot through his hand into mine. The way he touched me made me wonder how his hands would feel around my hips. I snapped myself out of it.

  “William Pardini.”

  Pardini? Oh, crap. I squeezed his hand. “You’re—you’re Luke’s—?” I couldn’t quite keep the doubt from creeping into my voice. He’s a member of that super rich family? He sure doesn’t look like it.

  “Cousin. Yes,” he said in a tone that really said: Yes, unfortunately.

  William didn’t look like a Pardini. Sure, he had the Italian features: black hair and eyes, a permanently tanned look, but he dressed like a homeless person. It was as if they had plucked someone from Civic Center and shoved him into a designer closet.

  He only released my hand when I pulled back. His hot gaze dipped down my dress and up again. He was being blasé about checking me out, but there was no shame in his expression.

  “So, what do you do?”

  My hand flew to my neck to play with the necklace that dangled there. “I’m a graphic designer. I work at the San Francisco Bay Aquarium.”

  He leaned on the rail beside me, stretching his body as every bit of his eccentric energy focused on me. His tie was loose, and I fought the urge to readjust it.

  “You don’t sound very excited about it,” he commented.

  Well, how could I? It was a dead-end job, but the money was stable and that’s all I seemed to care about anymore. Safety. I wasn’t one for taking risks. Ben was safe. I wasn’t like Jessica, who emptied her bank account to donate her money to a soup kitchen.

  I shrugged at him.

  “Are you any good?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  He made an indistinct sound in his throat.

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m the VP of Marketing.”

  “Sounds fun,” I said, echoing his deadpan tone.

  His fingers rapped on the wood. “It’s okay, but I want to become CEO. My dad is retiring soon. Luke’s dad is safely out of the way, so that goody-goody bore won’t get the job. It’s a fight between me and my four siblings.”

  My mouth hung open in shock. Safely out of the way? “He’s dead!”

  He shrugged at my indignation. “Yeah, so? He was a jerk. Even Luke admits it.”

  A savage grin filled his face as he looked at me. “I couldn’t believe that he hired that girl just to fool his dad—spent tens of thousands on her and even after all that, his dad only left him five hundred grand. What an idiot.”

  The backyard rang with his laughter. It was such an infectious laugh that I couldn’t help but smile. The shock of something so rude being said out loud and the layer of truth within it softened how offensive it was. A small giggle escaped my mouth.

  “I assumed that it was something rich people did. Don’t have a girlfriend? Buy one!”

  His lip curled. “Not this skinny Guinea.” He shook his head. “But I guess it gives you insight on how screwed up some rich people are.”

  Like you? I rolled my eyes and blushed hard when he caught me.

  His gaze zeroed in on me. “You’re jealous.”

  Guilt stabbed my insides. “I am not!”

  “You so are. You’re practically seething with jealousy. It’s okay. I mean, I know Luke is jealous of my brothers and me, even though he’s a bastard.”

  Luke was many things, but he was not a bastard. The charm of his bluntness was wearing off. “Luke’s my best friend’s boyfriend.”

  William looked at me. “Oh, sorry,” he said, sounding insincere as if he said it thousands of times a day. “That explains it, though. I was wondering why a chick like you would be here.”

  Did he insult me? “What does that mean?”

  He smiled at my outrage. “You’ve never been to one of these parties. I can tell because of how nervous you looked when you were in there. That means you don’t work for us. Hot girl alone at a party, it raises questions.”

  Hot girl? He was watching me?

  The compliments flooded my chest with warmth, but I wanted to run away from him. He was so…forward. We were standing close enough to kiss and I could smell the magnetism from his body. The loose tie dangled in front of my face and I grabbed it. I slid the blue silk up and rea
djusted it so that the knot was back on his throat. I couldn’t look away from him. Not even as I took his collar and folded it over his tie. His eyes burned like coals, shifting and falling.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, going a bit pink. I stepped back from him, overwhelmed by his presence.

  "No need to be sorry." A smile staggered over his face. “We should get coffee sometime.”

  Is he joking? “Are you serious?"

  "Dead serious."

  "For what?"

  "What kind of a question is that?" he said, laughing.

  He's asking me out on a date. "I didn’t think you liked me at all.”

  His mouth parted and for a moment he looked abashed. “I don’t mean to come off like an asshole.”

  Well, now what should I say? “I'm not interested. No offense.”

  “None taken.” He was staring at me like I was a sea urchin. “Okay, I lied. I’m a little miffed.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He smirked. “Usually women jump at a chance with me.”

  What an arrogant ass. “Poor baby.”

  A smile lit up his face as if I paid him a compliment. “You’re cheeky. I like that.”

  He caught me on a bad day. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  A part of me knew that I was stupid for saying that. Even if I weren’t looking for a relationship, wouldn’t it be worth it to give it a shot? Just to say I was young once, and I did something wild—I went out with a billionaire.

  He closed in on me, trapping me against the rail. Whoa, this is too close. My heart hammered when I glance at his smiling face. He wore a faint sprinkling of cologne that made my skin flush with heat, or perhaps it was his dark eyes looking down at me as if I were a dessert he was dying to taste.

  No one ever looked at me like that.

  “Who said I wanted a relationship? I was just asking you out for coffee.”

  “Meeting for coffee is a date. Dating implies relationship.”

  “We can skip the coffee and get dinner instead. Dinner implies fucking.”