Sinful Pleasures

he moment she’d slipped into the dreamy purple dress, she’d known it was the one and Penelope’s gasp of awe confirmed Elle’s intuition.

The design was strapless, leaving her shoulders bare, with a crystal-embellished bodice that fitted perfectly to her ample breasts, giving them a nice lift and bit of cleavage yet still holding them in. The waist was cinched tight from the corset-style fastenings at her back, outlining her curvy figure, and from there yards of light, airy lavender chiffon flowed to the floor around her feet like a soft cloud of fabric.

Elle’s blonde hair had been cut and highlighted by an available stylist at Penelope’s salon who’d worked on her treatments between other clients. At Penelope’s insistence, the girl had gently swept the front of Elle’s hair away from her face and secured those loose strands at the crown of her head with a few crystal-encrusted pins and combs that her friend had purchased at the vintage clothing shop, on the sly and as a surprise for Elle. The rest of her hair tumbled down her back in gorgeous cascading waves. The overall effect was a soft and romantic style that was both classic and sophisticated.

Another technician did her nails, while a makeup artist worked her magic on Elle’s face, first plucking and shaping her unruly brows, then creating a soft, natural look that enhanced her features and made her skin appear as smooth as porcelain. The kohl liner, plum shadow, and temporary lashes she’d applied made Elle’s eyes look much bigger and bluer than normal.

Just when Elle thought they were done at the salon, another woman led her down a hallway to a private room, where she informed Elle that Penelope had paid for a full wax service . . . and Elle had to laugh, because there had been no reason to shave anything more than her legs or armpits lately in her life, and she doubted she was going to get that lucky tonight. But by the time Ingrid was done, Elle had to admit that the new sensation of being smooth and bare felt incredibly arousing.

Penelope walked into the bedroom from her closet, holding a few pieces of jewelry in her hands, and Elle met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “You did it,” she said, giving credit where it was due. “I can’t believe it, but you managed the impossible. You really are a fairy godmother,” she teased.

“Of course I am. I told you I’d make it happen.” Penelope’s grin was smug, rightly so as she clasped a double-stranded pearl and crystal necklace around Elle’s throat, then added the matching bracelet to her wrist. “And now, you’re going to go to that fairy-tale ball and have the best night of your life.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Elle stood still as Penelope adorned her ears with a pair of dangling earrings that completed the set of high-end costume jewelry, then her friend reached for the shoe box sitting on the dresser.

“And now, for the pièce de résistance,” Penelope said with a perfect French accent as she opened the lid with a flourish to reveal the pair of white satin heels that had been completely embellished in aurora borealis crystals, which her friend found at the vintage shop on the clearance rack, of all places. Not only had they been Elle’s size, but they’d been a steal of a price, and Penelope claimed them as meant to be.

Penelope set the pair on the floor and Elle stepped into them. The shoes, like the dress, were gently worn, but all the little dazzling jewels were surprisingly intact. With them on Elle’s feet, the heels were hidden beneath the hem of her gown, except for when she took a step and they peeked out, giving a glimpse of brilliant shimmer and sparkle that would undoubtedly capture people’s attention.

Once she was completely decked out, Penelope took hold of both of Elle’s hands, her expression suddenly very serious. “You look breathtaking, Elle. Now go and find your Prince Charming.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “The last thing I have time for in my stressful, messed-up life is a man or a relationship.” Benjamin’s parting words to her after her father’s death were proof that, right now, she had very little to offer any guy long term.

“I didn’t say anything about a relationship.” Penelope’s green eyes gleamed mischievously. “This is going to be one of the most spectacular nights of your life, so make it one to remember. Find a man who gives you butterflies, makes you weak in the knees, and treats you like the desirable, sexy woman you are. Then, I’d suggest you let him whisk you away to somewhere private where he can fuck your brains out and give you all the orgasms you deserve, because two years is way too long to go without really great sex.”

Elle let out a small laugh. “And it wasn’t great with Benjamin to begin with,” she admitted. Despite Elle’s efforts to try and spice up their sex life during their relationship, her ex had been a stuffy, straightforward, strictly missionary kind of guy, which had always left Elle fantasizing what it would be like to have a man take complete control of her and her body in the bedroom.

“All the more reason to find the hottest, sexiest, single bad boy at the party and let him do all sorts of dirty, indecent things to you. More than once, if possible.” Penelope winked at her.

“We’ll see what happens,” she said, which was all Elle would commit to at this point. She’d keep an open mind and enjoy her evening, and if there happened to be a man at the ball who roused her desires and the feeling was mutual, she wasn’t opposed to indulging in a one-night fling.

No attachments or strings, it was all she’d allow, because she wasn’t going to involve any man in her current drama. As it was, she had some difficult decisions she needed to make, about her stepmother and the business, because she couldn’t keep living with the increasing amount of debt hanging over her head or the threat of losing the company her parents had built together. Somehow, someway, something had to give, and she knew it wouldn’t be greedy, money-hungry Helena, who’d recently suggested that they sell the real estate business while it was still possible and split the proceeds, to which Elle had replied, “Over my dead body.”

Penelope’s cell phone pinged, and she swiped it open and read the text before flashing a cheeky grin at Elle. “Your carriage has arrived, madam,” she announced of the car service she’d arranged to pick Elle up and deliver her to the ball.

Elle pressed a hand to the sudden nerves swirling in her belly, praying that Penelope’s plan to get her into the party really did work, or else she was going to be spending the night home alone with Lucifer, drowning her woes in a pint of ice cream, and all of her friend’s efforts would be for nothing.

“Stop fretting over the small stuff,” Penelope said, obviously reading Elle’s body language and her mind. “You got this.”

Well, she wouldn’t know that for sure unless she tried Penelope’s method of persuasion. So, she double-checked to make sure that she had the invitation and envelope addressed with her name on it in her small clutch purse, then headed down to the lobby to meet her chauffeur.

The drive getting to the Wilder Way ball—which was being held at the MadX-Tech building owned by the Wilder family and located in an area in Brooklyn that was slowly and gradually being gentrified—was fairly quick and easy for a Saturday evening, but it seemed to take forever to get through the long, endless line of cars and limousines driving into the underground structure. By the time her car pulled up to the entry area and a valet opened her passenger door, Elle realized that it was almost forty minutes past the start of the ball.

She was one of the last guests to arrive, with a few other couples trickling in behind her as they were dropped off, too. Shaking out the skirt of her gown and lifting her head confidently, she walked up to a stern-looking middle-aged man in a suit who was clearly a part of the evening’s security, and who was checking credentials of everyone who arrived before letting them through to the party.

After approving the couple in front of Elle, the man acknowledged her with a nod of his head, though his expression remained serious. “Good evening, miss.”

“Good evening,” she replied with what she hoped reflected a composed, I’m-meant-to-be-here smile as she passed him the envelope, invitation, and her driver’s license.

While he checked her identification and skimmed through what looked to be some kind of list on his handheld tablet, Elle’s gaze followed the long length of red carpet in front of her that led to the ornately decorated double doors that were open to the festivities inside. She could see many of the fairy-tale elements entwined with flora and fauna, an array of twinkling lights that added to the magical ambiance, and even recognized the sound of Raevynn Walsh’s voice—an up-and-coming pop star and the evening’s entertainment—singing her latest hit song.

Excitement unfurled inside of Elle, until her gaze came to a stop on the three women who were walking past the open doors—her stepmother and sisters—sipping champagne and laughing in a carefree manner, until Helena happened to casually glance out the entrance and spotted Elle.

As if she couldn’t believe her eyes, Helena came to an abrupt stop, causing her daughters to do the same . . . as well as follow their mother’s narrowing gaze. Elle saw the shock on Gwen’s and Claire’s faces, the increasing anger twisting her stepmother’s features, and a moment later, the trio was huddled together in conversation, clearly discussing Elle and her unexpected presence at the ball.

With the distance separating them, along with the music, Elle couldn’t hear what they were saying but assumed it was most likely mean and derogatory, considering how furious Helena looked. Elle knew it was inevitable that she’d run into them tonight but hadn’t been prepared for the blatant animosity from her stepmother when Elle had been invited to the gala.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the security guy said, bringing Elle’s attention back to him and the unyielding glint in his vivid brown eyes. “I can’t let you into the ball. Your name isn’t on the guest list.”