Collaring Cinderella

It wasn’t like I spent hours and hours cutting out magazine clippings like my stepmother. She was obsessed with Mr. Goldwyn, and it wasn’t even that hard to notice. The fact that he seemed oblivious to her glaring attraction to him took me by surprise, but I figured he wasn’t even remotely interested in someone like a housekeeper who polished his silverware.

But he had seemed awfully interested in me.

Goosebumps erupted all over my skin when I remembered his tall, broad-shouldered body caging me under him. He’d sent a shiver down my spine and a tingle between my legs. He really was something, a dozen times better-looking in person. Those photos didn’t do him justice… And my fingers bringing myself to an orgasm hadn’t, either. That night, I would though. I’d tease my clit into a release so intense I’d soak the bed for him… Dream of Mr. Goldwyn between my legs instead, cleaning me with his tongue.

“Are you even listening, Ella?” my stepmother barked at me, and I snapped out of it, my cheeks the color of beetroot as I looked into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled distractedly. “I’ll just finish up the hall with you if that’s alright.”

She turned around, huffing and puffing, and I carried my bucket of water into the beautifully done entrance hall. Two large staircases descended from the upper floor, the whole room done in beige Italian marble that seemed so expensive I was almost too scared to touch it. Under the dirty rag I scrubbed it with, the marble gleamed and sparkled, making me stare at the beautiful stone.

I’d never been in a house like this. It was incredible, truly incredible. From our small house in the grounds, I could see the mansion from a distance, but I never dared step foot inside. It was forbidden, my stepmother had told me that plenty of times before. So, I stayed away, keeping to myself and my books. I’d just finished school, and I had gotten accepted to NYU in the fall—my dream university.

But before I could step inside the halls that had taught so many people I admired, tragedy had ruined my life forever.

My father, the man I was closer to than anyone else, passed away the summer before I was about to start school. He’d just gotten married a few months prior, and he left me alone with a stepmother I barely knew. We’d never been close, but after she found out he left us the house together, she decided to sell it.

I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I came home one day to find a big SOLD sign on the front lawn, and Martha told me the house was gone, and I’d be able to get half of the money when I turned twenty-one. Until then, she was going to keep it in a trust fund for me.

Two weeks later, she told me about her job. She also told me that because my money was tied up, I’d have to wait before I went to university. Just like that, she shattered the only dream I’d ever had. She moved me into the small house on Mr. Goldwyn’s estate and I lived there in absolute misery, with nothing to do but help her with whatever she wanted.

It quickly became obvious Martha liked Mr. Goldwyn. It wasn’t just the incessant talking about him. She managed to include him in every conversation we had, talked about him with anyone and everyone she knew. That was how I came to know more about him, and the more I found out, the more intrigued I became.

He was loaded, a billionaire according to Martha—and Time magazine.

He was also a complete playboy, seen with a new toy every time he made a public appearance. He was notorious for changing his escorts, and even more infamous when it came to models. He loved those, and he’d kickstarted many a career just by being seen with a new model.

He ran a family company, and he was also distantly related to some royalty, which made him even sexier in the public’s eyes. His family members were famous jewelers, and he had more money than he could ever spend.

I lived on his estate for minutes before I ran into the man himself. Now, it was already December, with the holidays coming up soon. And I’d never felt sadder.

It would be the first Christmas without my father. I’d gotten used to my annual holidays with him. My mom passed away during childbirth, and I’d never known her. But Dad made sure I felt taken care of and special around Christmas. It didn’t seem like Martha had any plans for us, especially not of the special sort.

I’d been miserable for months, ever since I’d lost my father.

That day, finally meeting the elusive Mr. Goldwyn, I found my long-lost spark. It was still inside me, faintly glowing in the back of my eyes, waiting for someone to ignite it and light my fire.