Cinderella Busted (The Cinderella Romances #1)

by Petie McCarty

  By the time Rhett reached the park boundary, he fairly vibrated with anger—anger because Lily had never let him explain, anger because she had so blithely tossed them away like a piece of trash. He wasn’t trash. He had spent a lifetime proving that to the world, and he refused to let her casually cast him aside without a fight. He had fought for everything he had ever accomplished in life. That’s what he did. That’s where he excelled.

  All his pent-up hurt fed his anger. Lily hadn’t considered their relationship worth the effort, and his memories of their special place only served to taunt him tonight.

  The late afternoon sun created shadows among the sea grapes lining the park path to the beach. He stalked over the dunes, his step determined. He needed to make a decision, and he would make it here where their odyssey began. He had always been a gambler, and now he had to decide.

  Hold ‘em or fold ‘em. Now or never.

  He had plum run out of second chances. His always-calculating mind said now was the time to cut his losses. The last rays of sunlight slanted across the beach and ocean making the incoming waves sparkle like thousands of bits of shattered glass.

  Oh yeah, my future is shattered all right. I need to fold ‘em.

  He lengthened his stride along the beach. He would need a good long walk to figure out how.

  Lily pulled her truck to a stop and peered out into the gathering twilight on Jupiter Island. Lights were on in Rhett’s mansion, not many but a few. As she stared up at the single light on the second floor, her heart beat unevenly, and her throat went bone-dry. Memories swirled around her. Good and bad—some of her happiest and some of her worst. She had been thrown out of that very mansion by an angry ogre, carried in by Prince Charming, and fled the mansion on foot over an adulterous betrayal.

  Perceived betrayal.

  Tammy had convinced Lily she owed Rhett a chance to explain. He had swallowed his pride and gone to the nursery the night of the fire to get her explanation. She had to swallow her pride and go knock on his door tonight to ask for his explanation. She needed to hear the truth from him about what had happened with Delia. She would be able to feel if he embellished or told a lie.

  After the code compliance meeting, he had called the nursery twice and even stopped by. Then he had given up, had made no further effort to contact her, other than the call to Tammy to be sure Lily was safe. What did that mean?

  Only one thing. The next move was hers to make.

  So here she sat, out in front of his mansion, too chicken to pull in the driveway. She had driven out to the island ostensibly to retrieve the clothing she had left behind after catching Rhett with Delia. As good a reason as any. Her pride could still be salvaged if he was no longer interested in a resolution or worse still, had truly gone back to Delia.

  She could hear Hank’s voice in her head. “Quit being a baby, Lily, and march on in there. Stand up for what you want or let it go.”

  She couldn’t let it go. She couldn’t let Rhett go. Not without giving him a chance to explain. She just hoped he still wanted one.

  She smiled inwardly, threw the truck in gear, and proceeded down the sloping drive. Rhett’s Navigator was visible inside the detached garage.

  He is home!

  Her heart clamored wildly in her chest.

  Showtime.

  As she eased the truck forward, she spied a dark-green Jaguar parked on the circular portion of the drive near the mansion’s front door. Rhett had company? Her stomach took a painful lurch.

  Did that Jaguar belong to Delia? If so, Rhett hadn’t wasted any time, and everything Garrett told Tammy had been a lie.

  “Do what you came here to do,” Hank’s voice echoed in the stillness of her truck.

  She needed to know the score once and for all. If Delia was inside with Rhett, Lily would have her answer. No more wondering. She took a deep breath and felt stronger, knowing an end to the madness lay in sight.

  She climbed out of the truck and with a confidence borne of resignation, marched boldly to the front door. About to press the ornate doorbell, she noticed the door was unlatched and open a bare crack. Without thinking, she eased the enormous door further open and peered into the foyer.

  Deserted.

  She slipped inside. Her sneakered feet edged soundlessly across the cavernous foyer to the bottom step of the grand staircase.

  She pulled in a deep breath, prayed for a spat of courage, and called out, “Rhett? Are you home?”

  No answer.

  She listened for movement on the lower floor. Heard nothing. Maybe he was upstairs. Her gaze tilted upward. What if he was in his bedroom? She thought of the Jaguar parked out front and remembered the hurt and anger she’d felt at the sight of Rhett lying across Delia, her manicured nails scrabbling at his broad naked back.

  Could I manage this twice?

  She took a deep fortifying breath.

  Hells bells, yes! I have to know. Once and for all.

  “Rhett?” she called again.

  “Well. Well. Well,” a female voice sneered from the deep shadows of the great room. “What do we have here?”

  Lily wheeled around.

  Delia Armstead slithered up to the top step and into the light of the foyer. Clad in a tight snakeskin jumpsuit with her dark hair pinned up in a wild mass of curls, she looked like a rattlesnake coiled to strike. Her cold-blooded eyes glittered while gauging the distance between them.

  Lily remembered her childhood fairy tales, and the evil witches who could take almost any form, and she almost smiled. Almost.

  At least Delia wasn’t in Rhett’s bedroom.

  “What are you doing here?” Delia demanded. “You’re trespassing.”

  “And you’re not?” Lily retorted, though Delia’s accusation smacked of possessiveness.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m more than welcome, been coming and going here for years.” She creeped forward, one slow step at a time, like a pit viper cornering prey. “I asked you what you’re doing here.”

  Lily tilted her chin defiantly. “I came to see Rhett.”

  “Well, he doesn’t want to see you,” Delia snapped. “He’s tired of you. I’m surprised he was with you at all.”

  Had Rhett told her that? Or was Delia just being nasty? The woman was back here at the mansion for the second time in as many days, Lily reminded herself uneasily.

  “Rhett and I are none of your business,” she fired back.

  Delia’s mouth curved in a reptilian smile to match those stalking eyes. “Think so? He told me all about you. We laughed over your naïve little interlude.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she cried. “Rhett wouldn’t do that.”

  “Then you don’t know Rhett very well.” The witch batted her eyelashes provocatively. “Not like I do.”

  Damn her.

  Lily did know Rhett. She had felt a riveting connection with him. Delia had to be lying for spite. But the witch had said naïve interlude, and Rhett had called Lily naïve more than once.

  “I do know Rhett,” she declared, her hands balling into fists. She refused to concede the upper hand to this witch.

  “No, you only see what you want to see.” Delia slinked forward two more steps, shaking her head. “You can’t see the truth. Rhett can’t love you. You cannot possibly fit into his world. You don’t belong there.” The witch smirked. “I do. He’s realized that now.”

  Lily didn’t want to believe Delia, but the witch’s spiteful words ripped at her heart, like pieces were being torn away. She had worried about fitting into Rhett’s glamorous world from the moment she met him. She was Cinderella on the outside looking in. Yet, the thought of her world without Rhett in it hurt too much to let go.

  “Where’s Rhett?” she cried, hating the tears she could feel stinging the bac
ks of her eyelids. “I want to hear that from him, not you.”

  Delia’s eyes danced gleefully at the sight of her prey’s weakening resolve. “Rhett went for a walk. I was just about to join him. He’s waiting for me at the beach, and he doesn’t want to see you. You have caused him nothing but trouble. He said he doesn’t have time for your tantrums.”

  Ouch! That held a ring of truth.

  She thought of the flowers and skywriting and other ploys she had so cavalierly waved off when Rhett tried hard to see her and make up. Her heartache sliced again. Soon, she would have no heart left. She took a deep breath. What now?

  Save your pride. Walk out with your head high, not looking whipped.

  Lily took another deep breath to steady her voice. The lancing pains at her heart would just have to wait.

  She turned and started up the stairs. “I’ll just go and get my things, then I’ll leave.”

  “You’re not going up there!” Delia shouted after her.

  “My clothes are up there,” she said with not a little satisfaction.

  She continued up the steps and heard the speedy clackety-clack of Italian sandals on the foyer’s marble tile. Lily picked up her pace.

  “I need my clothes. They’re all I have after my cottage burned.”

  Why had she said that? Delia didn’t possess an ounce of compassion and wouldn’t care.

  “I said no!” The witch started up the stairs after her.

  Lily kept marching—one foot after the other, one step at a time. She wasn’t leaving here without her clothes. She may have lost Rhett, but she wanted those clothes. She shut her eyes briefly, hesitated on the step, and felt the wisp of memory—Rhett helping her pick out everything at the mall, the two of them laughing over his choices.

  “Stop right there, damn you!” Delia shrieked, losing her cool. “Rhett doesn’t want you in his house. You’ll probably try to lock yourself in the bedroom till he comes back like the little gold digger you are!”

  The gold digger comment held her in place. Had Rhett told Delia that? He had said as much to Lily. Maybe Delia was telling the truth. Rhett had gone back to the witch fast enough after he had thrown Lily out of his house.

  She suddenly hated Delia. She twisted around on the step, surprised to see how far she had gotten up the staircase and even more surprised to see the witch so close.

  “What are you so afraid of?” she lashed out, wanting the witch to hurt, too. “Afraid Rhett might change his mind?”

  “Not a chance. He will never get tired of me.” Delia’s smile turned vicious. “Rhett and I are too fabulous in bed . . . or the shower . . . or the floor.”

  Each picture the witch painted of her and Rhett’s lovemaking tore at Lily’s heart like a knife slicing flesh, and the images carried the tint and hue of truth to her inexperienced mind. A vise tightened around her lungs and squeezed out an involuntary whimper.

  Delia heard and pounced joyfully. “You know I’m right. You saw the proof yourself just yesterday. Rhett couldn’t even wait to get me on the bed.”

  One practiced jab too many. Lily saw red with the last bit of evil spewing from Delia’s mouth. Her heart pounded with the same fury she had suffered yesterday at the sight of Rhett’s almost naked body sprawled across Delia. If the witch didn’t want Lily upstairs, then up the stairs she would go.

  She wheeled around and marched determinedly up the remaining steps. “This isn’t your house, and I’m going to get my clothes. If Rhett wants me thrown out, he can do it himself. He’s fully capable as he has already proved.”

  Quicker than Lily would have believed possible, Delia scampered up and around her, blocking access to the last couple steps before the landing.

  “You’re not coming up here,” the witch snarled and pointed down at the door. “Now get out.”

  The two women were evenly matched in size though Delia won on viciousness. Lily needed to be careful.

  “Step aside,” she ordered. “I’m getting my clothes, and then I’ll leave.”

  She eased toward the middle of the stair as though to go around Delia, but the witch shifted with her.

  “I don’t know what you thought you could gain by coming here, but Rhett doesn’t want you. He came running back to me. You saw for yourself yesterday afternoon. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can try to ambush Rhett and make him tell you himself—hurt you to your face—or you can believe me and get out of his life with your pride still intact.”

  Delia’s words stung. Lily had seen Rhett and the witch wrapped together, with her own eyes, though Tammy insisted she believe something altogether different.

  A picture is worth a thousand words.

  Lily scrunched her eyes shut to vanish from her mind the horrible image of Rhett lying across Delia.

  “Closing your eyes won’t make it go away,” Delia taunted. “Rhett wants me. No one can make love to him like I can.”

  Lily’s eyes flew open. “Shut up!”

  “You saw him on top of me—naked—right where he wanted to be.”

  Lily pressed her hands to her ears. “Shut up!”

  Delia came down a step and yanked her hands away. “You were nothing but a game to him, to see if he could seduce the little gardener. He forgot you like that.” She snapped her fingers in Lily’s face, then knocked her sideways against the banister. “Playtime is over, you little bitch! You can’t win. Give it up.”

  Lily’s heart felt torn into dozens of pieces. Had Rhett played with her? Was it all a game to him? Had he really discussed their affair with Delia?

  Something inside Lily snapped. Her anger flared—anger at the adulterous betrayal she had witnessed with her own eyes. She refused to let Delia win this little skirmish even if she had won the war.

  “I’m getting my clothes.” She snarled each word. “So get out of my way.”

  Delia’s eyes slitted to icy shards. “You can’t win. If you try to go after Rhett, I’ll make you sorry you ever met him.”

  She dropped down to Lily’s step and grabbed her arm.

  “Let me go!” Lily shouted and tried to yank her arm free.

  Delia’s long nails dug in, and Lily cried out with the pain. She fought for leverage, tried to grip the banister with her free hand, but Delia had compromised her balance, and she started to sway.

  “Let go of me!” she shouted again.

  “You were supposed to be in that cottage,” Delia grunted and tore Lily’s grip loose from the banister.

  Lily gasped. “You’re the one who sabotaged my propane tank?”

  The witch cackled wildly. “Yes, it was me, and I hope this breaks your skinny neck.” She gave Lily a hard shove.

  Lily felt herself falling backward, and everything jerked to slow motion. A scream of terror echoed—hers. The seconds seemed to stand still as she saw her hand reach to grab for the banister, then watched her fingers only graze the slick, polished surface. Her pitching weight accelerated by gravity forced her feet to stutter backward. Down one step, then two. Then her feet no longer touched the steps. Her mind melded to one effort only—protect her head and neck as she tumbled downward.

  Spine-searing panic took control of her brain—inured her to Delia’s wild cackling overhead, deafened her to the shouts from below or the pounding of feet. Nothing could stop her backward tumble, and her spine smacked hard against the banister. The momentum of the strike ricocheted her forward to pitch head first toward the lower stairs. As she watched the closest steps rising swiftly toward her face, she could only duck and use her arms to protect her head and neck.

  Down she went and hit the first step hard with her knee bent. She somehow twisted to keep her head from striking the banister, and to keep her body parallel to the stairs and prevent a deadly headfirst descent. Her body rolled down to the next step
. She couldn’t use her arms to stop her momentum, she had to protect her head and neck.

  Down one more stair. Her shoulder hit first. Then the next stair, her knees this time. Down one more stair she rolled and into two strong arms that pulled her up against a rock-hard chest. She inhaled a much-needed lungful of oxygen after holding her breath on the plummet, and her senses rioted over the enveloping scent.

  Rhett.

  “Hold still, Lily, or we’ll both go down,” Rhett ordered.

  Delia screamed like a banshee at the top of the stairs.

  Rhett grappled for a hold on the banister to get Lily’s feet under her.

  “No!” Delia screamed again. “Don’t you save her!”

  She tore down the steps straight for Lily who had only just gotten both feet on the same stair. Rhett pressed Lily behind him against the banister. He snagged a tight fistful of Delia’s jumpsuit as the witch tried to crawl over him to get at Lily. She screamed her bloody head off, and he gave her a hard jerk.

  “Stop!” he roared over her screaming. “You’ll knock us all over.”

  “She was supposed to be gone!” Delia shrieked. “Out of our way!”

  Rhett gave her another hard jerk. “Enough!”

  Delia suddenly folded like a rag doll and dropped down on the stair at Rhett’s feet. He grabbed for her, but she shrank back against the banister, wrapped her arms about her waist, and moaned incoherently.

  Legs trembling hard, Lily slid down the banister to sit on the stair. Rhett wheeled around and scooped her up, negotiating the steps down carefully. At the bottom, he stopped and crushed Lily tight to him.

  “My God, are you hurt?” He buried his face in her hair.

  “I don’t th-think so,” she managed, gulping oxygen and clinging to him like a lifeline.

  “Dear God in heaven, when I saw you tumble—” His voice faltered. “I tried to get there—”