The Cinderella Arrangement

by Vanessa Waltz

  I closed the lid of Will’s laptop, fear gnawing at my insides. He slept in the bedroom, but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to sleep.

  When we reached his apartment in the city, William made a few calls to his father, to his lawyer, and had collapsed into bed.

  I checked my LinkedIn profile as soon as I got home, but all the nude photos mysteriously disappeared.

  Slimy bastard.

  I logged in and changed my password. What was Ben playing at? It was becoming more and more apparent that the photos were used to draw us to his apartment, so he could get Will arrested. Plus, they had the bonus effect of humiliating me.

  The insecure voice in my head, the one that sounded like my mother, uttered a small thought: Did I do something wrong? Did I deserve this?

  I kept remembering Ben’s blue eyes, devoid of all the warmth I’d grown accustomed to seeing. Ben was never the type to rejoice in other people’s pain, but yesterday he looked at me and smiled through his bloody lips, gloating as Will was dragged off to jail. How could he become a different person?

  Fuck. The news teams will flock to Ben’s door.

  I paced Will’s spacious, San Francisco apartment. It was nowhere near the level of Luke’s mansion, but it had wonderful views of the Bay. I returned to Will’s bedroom and watched him sleep.

  He needs to get up, dammit.

  My head pounded with a massive headache. I’d been up the whole night and the orange sky was receding into blue. Will was on his stomach, dead to the world. I peeled back the comforter and his back muscles twitched.

  The phone rang and still Will didn’t move. It blared through the entire apartment, blasting in my ears. He moaned and his head jerked, but the call went to voicemail.

  “William, this is your father. Your lawyer called me and he says that Ben Osland is suing you. Several media outlets have already contacted him. We need to begin damage control. This Ben character is on a warpath. I do not understand what the hell you did to piss him off, but I wanted to thank you for once again making my life difficult. Call me back.”

  Don't get angry with him, It's my fault. I wanted to pick up the phone and call him back to explain everything.

  “You’re welcome, Dad.”

  Will’s muffled voice filtered out of the comforter. I sat on the bed and he rolled over, his bleary eyes watching me. The side of his face was a livid purple, and I felt another stab of guilt.

  “You look worried.”

  “I am. You should be too.”

  “Relax, it’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not so sure. Those cops who arrested you are in his pocket. He’s friendly with a lot of them because they work together all the time.”

  “Great,” he moaned. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

  I grasped his warm shoulders and leaned in. “I’m so, so sorry.” My breath caught in my throat.

  “Why do you keep saying that?” he said in a low voice.

  A fluttering feeling kept distracting me when he touched my arms. “Because you mean a lot and I hate that I brought all of this chaos into your life.”

  His fingers encircled my arms and pulled me into the warm bed. His face pinched with fatigue, but I looked at his lips and felt my body heat all over. Every time he touched my skin, a jolt of electricity shot through me. The excitement and the strange, pounding feeling in my chest were new.

  “You didn’t bring chaos into my life. Natalie, you’ve no idea how empty I was before I met you.”

  “Me too, Will.”

  The palm of his hand increased pressure on my upper back and I fell on my arms as Will placed a soft kiss on my lips. I kissed him, and then his half-naked body turned and fell on top of mine. I caressed his broad back, his shoulder, over the dark bruise showing on his face. He hissed in pain and I pulled away.

  “I’m really glad you kneed that prick in the balls. I wish I could have seen it.”

  He lowered himself and kissed me again, his tongue teasing my mouth, as if he was turned on by the image of me kicking my ex-fiancé.

  I felt myself opening. My skin was sensitive—every touch made me want to moan. What was it about him that made him so irresistible?

  “Will,” I whispered in his ear.

  A small groan left his mouth as he felt my lips moving on his ears. “I like that.”

  With one swipe of his arms, my t-shirt flew from my head. He grinned as he reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. I let out a thin gasp as his hands grasped my breasts. His thumb and forefinger found my peaked nipples and squeezed them.

  “Ah!”

  His fingers already knew all the places where I was sensitive. I bit down on his neck as they shoved through the narrow space between my panties and dipped to stroke my moistening clit. He chuckled between kissing my breasts as I seized his back and dug my nails in. Ecstasy flooded my senses as his finger probed the heat between my legs until they slid inside the tight, wet passage. Two fingers curled like a question mark inside me, striking the hot bed of nerves that longed for something longer—thicker. His tongue played on my chest, exciting me, torturing me.

  I seized his head, brought him to my face, and he grinned at my eagerness. I needed more. With his other hand, he pulled my jeans down to my knees and resumed fingering me. My wetness covered his hand, and I heard it slipping around him as he pumped his fingers inside me. I cried out when his hands dug to the hilt and he curled up to stroke that sensitive spot.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he groaned. “You are so wet.”

  His muscular body glided over me and I grabbed his waist to unbutton his jeans. I paused for a moment to ride my palm over the rigid bulge and his face twitched as I squeezed it.

  “Maybe I should tease you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he growled.

  I unzipped his pants and reached inside for his long, hard length. Then I pulled him out of his briefs and watched as a drop trembled over the head. I lifted myself and kissed him, my tongue reaching out to catch the drop. My hands smoothed over his muscular ass, and I pulled him closer to my face. My mouth open, I heard his strangled moan as his cock passed my lips. His thickness widened my mouth, my tongue riding on the ridge. Excitement jumped up my thighs as I felt him take control.

  He pumped slowly, taking his time as I kept my lips clasped around him. I guided his hips, urging him on—faster. Through his mouth, he uttered a stream of curses and guttural moans. I was fascinated by how dirty it was—and how much I liked it. Will’s face, streaked with sweat, crumpled as if he was in pain. He pulled out of my mouth and hovered in front of my lips, before he let out a sigh, like dipping into a warm bath.

  Then he pulled out and his torso moved down. He ripped off my jeans and flung them across the room and suddenly my legs were wrapped around his waist and he dove forward.

  I let out a sharp gasp as he sank inside me, pounding hard enough to rob me of all breath. His hot face met mine with a steaming kiss as I moaned into his lips. The headboard slammed rhythmically into the wall.

  Nothing could feel better than his hips driving his rock-hard cock into me. I clutched his head against my breast as his whole body surged forward, every muscle focused on delivering me as much pleasure as possible. My pulse maintained its rapid pace, and I clenched myself tight around him, my face screwing up as Will’s heavy breaths surrounded me. The pleasure ramped up like the tight coils of a spring, and then suddenly he hammered forward and I convulsed around his cock at the same time he uttered a low moan and jumped inside me.

  “Natalie.” He bit down on my neck and squeezed my breast as his orgasm shuddered through his body. “I can feel you.”

  He reached down and touched my twitching muscles as he slid out. I was too busy focusing on the electricity shooting through my body. He raised himself on his elbows, looking tired but pleased. I wiped the damp locks of hair from his eyes and he lowered himself. His lips were soft against mine, and even though I was exhausted I felt I could kiss
him for hours.

  I spent the next few days away from William, hunkering in my cold apartment and refreshing ten different windows on my computer. William said he needed time to deal with all the negative press, and I understood that. The headlines got worse. A lot worse.

  Billionaire and pal kill three with DUI in Redwood City in ’11

  Battery victim condemns Pardini family for “covering up” DUI

  He never said sorry: an exposé into the Pardini DUI crash

  Opinion: Pardini family cover-up shows youth that drinking and driving is ok

  Is the law lenient on the rich?

  None of them seemed to care that William wasn’t in the driver’s seat. All that mattered was that he was rich. Ben mentioned the deadly crash during one of his interviews and the media ran with it, igniting a firestorm of vitriol and public outcry against the Pardini family.

  When I called him, his voice was quieter. He was spiraling.

  “When can I see you?”

  Silence crackled on the other end of the line. Ten—fifteen seconds.

  “Will, are you still there?”

  “Uh—what? Sorry.”

  “I said, when can I see you again?"

  “Natalie, I don't know. I really can't talk.”

  I bit my lip hard so that he couldn’t hear the tears in my voice. “Okay. Bye.”

  Without so much as a farewell, William hung up, and I stared at my empty phone as if it could tell me what was wrong with him.

  I crumpled up the piece of paper I’d been using to sketch a design and hurled it across my too small bedroom. The final designs I had yet to finish glared at me through the computer screen.

  A soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.

  “Come in.”

  A sliver of Jessica’s slight figure appeared in the crack of the door. She gave me a wry smile. “Come here. Luke has something for you.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just come."

  Whatever it was, Jessica looked like she was barely containing her excitement. I followed her into the kitchen where Luke stood, still dressed in his work clothes. He held a folder in his hands and was beaming at me.

  What could he have for me? “What’s up?”

  “Natalie, everyone loved the approach you took for the campaign.” Grinning ear to ear, he walked closer. “The creative director leading the bed-and-breakfast campaign wants to hire you as a full-time employee. Here’s the offer she wants to give you.”

  Stunned, I took the folder he handed me. Jessica let out a joyous shriek and tackled me.

  “You did it! You'll be working for Pardini Worldwide!”

  Luke chuckled. “Well, if she wants to.”

  I opened the folder and thumbed through the HR welcome packet, still not quite believing it. A surge of energy burst into my veins, followed by a sickening thought. “Did Will do this?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, no. Like I said, our creative director emailed Will and said she wanted you. You'll get an email, but I thought I’d come in person. Will was supposed to, but he hasn’t been at work lately.”

  All the joy I felt at being offered a position at such a great company evaporated into thin air. Luke’s eyes hardened at the mention of his cousin.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s in a really bad way, Natalie. I think all of this negative press is bringing back a lot of memories from the accident.”

  My hand fell to my mouth as I realized the pain he must be going through alone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it for messages. Nothing.

  “Why hasn’t he called me?”

  His eyes wrinkled as he gave me a helpless shrug. “I don’t know.”

  He needs me.

  I dashed around the apartment, grabbing my keys, purse, and phone. Maybe he was too stubborn to ask for help. I glanced sadly at the packet Luke gave me.

  “Thanks a lot, Luke. I wish I didn’t have to leave but I think Will needs me—I’m really excited to start working for Pardini Worldwide.”

  He nodded. “I’ll tell them. Carrie will contact you with the details.”

  A group of paparazzi clustered around Will’s apartment, surrounding the stairs that led to his building.

  They whirled around to snap photos of me as I walked up the steps. Recognizing me, they screamed my name and the strangeness of having people I’d never met know my name distracted me for a moment. I stopped in front of the door and hesitated. I wanted to see him—I always wanted to see him—but would he want to see me? Would he send me back home?

  Knocking on the door, I flinched as if I expected him to be standing right behind it. Several long seconds passed. The back of my neck burned as the vultures continued to click away. I knocked again.

  Groaning, I sent him a quick text: It’s me.

  At last, I heard the sounds of someone moving in his apartment. The door cracked open and an angry, dark eye glowered at me.

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  I was hurt by the gruff tone of his voice. “I know. Luke said you weren’t doing well, and you haven’t been responding to my calls.”

  “Interfering jerk.”

  “MR. PARDINI! Do you have a statement?”

  He shuddered at the sound of their voices. “Get in quickly.” He let the door open and squinted from the sunlight. I gasped as I took in his haphazard appearance. His face was pale and gaunt; he looked like he’d stayed up several days, but his eyes were listless. Dark.

  The door closed behind me, shutting out the noise of the crazed mob.

  “Heard about the job. Congrats,” he said with his back to me.

  “Thanks,” I said in a small voice, feeling wounded at his indifference.

  Without so much as a friendly greeting, Will walked into the living room and sat down on the couch where he watched the giant plasma television screen. A CNN host argued with a psychologist about whether rehabilitation worked for DUI drivers while a marquee near the bottom mentioned that Pardini stock had fallen several points. He pulled a laptop over his knees and his sunken eyes darted across the screen as he read an email.

  “Is this what you’ve been doing this whole time?” I asked, horrified.

  He shrugged, looking defeated in his battered t-shirt and sweatpants. “What else is there to do? I can’t leave and it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days. There will be a press conference tomorrow.”

  I sank into the couch next to him, feeling hurt by his utter lack of warmth.

  This isn’t about you. “What? Did your publicist tell you to do that?”

  Having a dozen different media outlets fire questions at him seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

  He sipped from the stone cold mug of coffee. “I fired my publicist.”

  Shock rippled through my joints. I looked at Will’s sunken face, debating whether I should keep my thoughts to myself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You can barely talk about the accident.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I can or can’t handle. I need to do this on my own.”

  The coldness in his voice made me think that he also included me. “You don’t need to. Let me help you.”

  I tried to close the laptop, but he jerked the screen away from me. A pang struck my heart as he looked at me, a frightening, almost angry look striking out at me.

  “Just leave me be.”

  My heart seized with pain. I knew that he was hurting, but I wanted to help him. I felt responsible for the whole thing. My hand fell on his thigh. “Please don’t shut me out.”

  I touched his shoulder, but he moved away from me.

  What did I do?

  “I can’t deal with this. It’s too much.” He looked at me and I could see the stress breaking him down. He was like a shattered sculpture. Maybe he could be mended, but he would never be the same. “There’s just nothing left in me.”

  “Are you angry with me?”

  There was no
spirit in his body, none of that fevered energy that made him so exciting.

  “I’m angry with myself.”

  Something went through me as I looked at him: a silent howl. He’s breaking up with me. I shook my head, tears already spilling down. “But—Will—”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t handle a relationship right now.”

  He couldn’t handle it or maybe he really had no feelings for me. It didn’t matter. It was over.

  The air left my lungs, and a sob shook through my throat. His eyes glazed over and he made a movement as though he meant to touch me, but I dodged out of reach.

  I shot up from the couch, hoping he would catch up and apologize or beg me to stay, but I didn’t hear so much as a whimper. The hallway was dark as I glanced behind me. Then I opened the door to bright flashes. I threw my arms in front of my face.

  “Ms. Porter!”

  A dozen strangers elbowed each other to scream at me, demanding questions and offering me thousands of dollars to sell a story. A violent surge of hatred reared up inside me as I stared at their insistent faces.

  “Fuck off!”

  There were yells of anger as I stormed down the steps. My shoulder slammed against someone’s camera and his voice rose in outrage.

  Good, I thought. Maybe you’ll understand how pissed off I am right now.

  They followed me all the way to my car, still clicking away at me.

  For a moment, I saw myself yanking on the steering wheel to drive toward Oakland and running over Ben’s body. He’d deserve it.

  My mother’s voice rang in my head.

  First Ben, now William. You really go through them, don’t you?

  I turned the key to my apartment and walked over the ugly carpet. Having no desire to be interrogated by Jessica, I headed straight for my bedroom. I saw a brief image of Luke and Jessica sitting at the kitchen table, standing up when they saw me. A bottle of champagne sat on the table.

  “Natalie! We wanted to celebrate—where are you going?”

  Oh, God no. Not now.

  Jessica took one look at my flushed face. “What happened?”

  My eyes darted to Luke, who still had the vestiges of a smile on his face. He fingered a bottle opener.