Sinful Pleasures

Penelope exhaled a huff of breath. “You’re a Darian, more than she or her spoiled rotten daughters ever will be.”

A sad smile sat on Elle’s lips. “True, but the fact remains that my name isn’t on the list to get inside that party tonight.”

“You are not going to miss out on this ball,” Penelope insisted, her tone emphatic. She tapped a finger to her chin, her beautifully shaped brows creasing thoughtfully. “Do you still have the actual invitation?”

Elle’s unhappy smile turned into a Cheshire cat grin as she unlocked one of the drawers on her desk and slid it open. Inside were a few of her father’s personal things that meant everything to her and she never wanted Helena to have possession of, and right on top was the cream-colored, gold-embossed invitation to the Wilder Way ball.

After learning Helena had deliberately left her name off the RSVP card, Elle had taken the elegant stationery, just to watch her stepmother fret over where it had disappeared to, which had given Elle a small semblance of satisfaction. But with Helena and her stepdaughters’ names now on the RSVP list, they didn’t need the actual invitation to get inside. Just proof of their identity.

“Actually, I do have the invitation right here,” she said, lifting it for Penelope to see. “Not that it does me any good on its own.”

Penelope clasped her hands in front of her, her green eyes alight with excitement. “Oh, that’s where I beg to differ, my friend. That’s your golden ticket into the ball right there.”

Elle frowned, not sure how Penelope had come to such a conclusion. “How do you figure?”

Penelope plucked the elegant stationery from Elle’s fingers and tapped the front of it. “Your name is on the envelope, and the actual invitation is still inside. Between that and showing your ID to prove who you are and that you were invited to this ball, they aren’t going to turn you away.”

While she appreciated her friend’s enthusiasm, Elle was far more skeptical of that plan. “I’m not sure that’s going to work. They have people RSVP for a reason.”

Penelope rolled her eyes at Elle’s doubtful attitude. “Come on, Elle. Be bold and daring. You have to try. I’ve heard that this ball is going to be unlike any others that the Wilder Way Foundation has thrown. Just pure fairy-tale fantasy. Hell, I’d go if I could.” A devious smile curved her mouth. “And just imagine the look on Helena’s, Claire’s, and Gwen’s faces when they see you there. Oh, my God, that would be such a sweet retribution.”

Elle couldn’t deny just how much that idea appealed to her, but there was still another huge issue holding her back, which she expressed. “Even if I wanted to go”—which she really did—“or your crazy idea for me to get in worked, I’m in no position to attend such a luxurious, elegant ball. I mean, look at me,” she said, her tone wry as she swept a hand from her head down toward her legs, and she knew it wasn’t a pretty sight. “Not only do I not own a proper ball gown to wear to such an extravagant function, my hair is an absolute disaster. I desperately need a trim and my blonde highlights touched up because my roots are showing, and my nails are a cracked mess.”

The last thing she’d had time for lately, not to mention the extra money to spend on, was self-pampering. Even her basic wardrobe was in dire need of updating, but Elle couldn’t justify the expense when it was taking every penny she could pinch to keep her, and the business, afloat.

A bitter look passed over Penelope’s expression. “Funny how your stepmother and sisters found the time to do all that . . . in Paris.”

Elle winced, because she was still reeling over the substantial bill that her stepmother dropped on her after the two-week holiday abroad. “Yeah, well, someone has to keep this business running while they’re out attempting to spend money faster than it’s coming in.”

Helena had insisted Paris was a business trip to garner new clients, but from what Elle could tell, there had been nothing business-wise to justify the thousands of dollars that had been spent on the company’s credit card that was now precariously close to reaching its max limit. Fourteen nights at a five-star hotel. The finest restaurants every evening. Indulging in every spa treatment available. Visiting salons that had cost a small fortune, and shopping sprees at exclusive, designer boutiques.

The trio had returned from their vacation—Elle refused to acknowledge it as a business trip—refreshed, glowing, and excited about the one-of-a-kind, handmade gowns they’d commissioned specifically for the Wilder Way ball. Elle couldn’t deny that the dresses had been beautiful, but inside, her stomach was in knots over the unnecessary expense.

“You’re doing this,” Penelope insisted, bringing Elle’s attention back around. “You never do anything for yourself. Your nose has been to the grindstone since your father’s death two years ago and Benjamin kicked you while you were down. Asshole,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Yeah, Elle wholeheartedly agreed that Benjamin had been an asshole. A few weeks after her father’s funeral, when Elle’s world felt as though it was falling apart at the seams and she’d needed Benjamin’s support the most, he’d decided her life was filled with too much drama—i.e., the antics of her stepmother, Claire, and Gwen and the financial mess she’d discovered in the wake of her dad’s passing—and announced that he needed someone with less baggage who could dedicate more time to him.

She mustered a smile for her friend, who was trying so hard to bolster Elle’s morale. “Clearly, you didn’t hear what I just said about looking frumpy and having nothing to wear, not to mention I can’t afford the extra expense.”

Penelope shrugged. “Consider this an early birthday gift from me.”

Elle laughed. “My birthday isn’t for another five months.”

“Like I said, an early birthday gift.”

“The ball is today, Penelope,” Elle said, shaking her head as she checked the time on the small digital clock on her desk. “As in seven hours from right now. There isn’t any place that is going to fit me in so last minute for everything I need done, and we don’t have the time to find an appropriate ball gown for me to wear.”

Penelope looked unconcerned. “Do not doubt the power of my networking skills and the contacts and connections I’ve made over the years of selling real estate. You need a fairy godmother, and that’s going to be me. I’m going to glam the hell out of you.” Grinning, she waved a hand in the air as if twirling an invisible magic wand above Elle’s head that would transform her right then and there. “Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. By the time I’m done with turning you into a modern-day Cinderella and you walk into that ballroom, jaws are going to drop and your Prince Charming is going to sweep you off your feet.”

“Yeah, okay,” Elle said with a laugh, more to appease her friend.

“Trust me. I got this.” Penelope grinned, picked up her phone, and started making calls.

CHAPTER TWO

Six and a half hours later, Elle stood in front of the full-length dressing mirror in Penelope’s Manhattan apartment, unable to believe it was her reflection she was staring at. Honest to God, Elle hadn’t thought her friend’s makeover would be possible in such a short amount of time, but Penelope had pulled every string available and called in every outstanding favor owed to her in order to turn Elle from a pauper into a princess, and the end result was stunning. She’d never felt so glamorous or gorgeous in her entire life.

Their first stop this afternoon after leaving the office had been to Penelope’s favorite vintage clothing shop, where the owner had pulled three possible gently used ball gowns for Elle to try on. The first two had been pretty, but t