Stroke of Midnight (Cinderella 1)

“We could be late,” I murmur, peeking at him through my lashes.

His jaw clenches, and his blue eyes flash. “As much as I want to make you cry, little girl, and destroy your sore asshole, I have responsibilities. If you please me tonight at the birthday bash, I’ll reward you with my dick down your pretty throat.”

I lick my lips. “Promise?”

“I always follow through on my threats,” he rumbles, his lips curling into a sinister grin. “You, of all people, know this.”

I enter the brownstone to a bustle of activity. There are people rushing about, dressing the triplets in the living room and doing last-minute alterations. Dad is nowhere to be found. I’m nearly knocked over by Manda, fully dressed in a low-cut evening gown, as soon as I start for the stairs.

“Seriously, Ash!” she bellows. “You’re a hot mess, and we only have a few hours until your limo arrives. Get upstairs and do something about that hair!”

I yelp in surprise when her nails dig into my bicep and she starts dragging me up the steps. “You’re going to bruise me, Manda!”

“That’s why they created makeup, darling. Now get to drying your hair,” she snaps, hauling me into my bedroom.

I drop my bag on the bed and scowl at her. “Where’s the stylist?”

“She had a family emergency.” Manda smiles at me in the same corrupt way her sons do. “Looks like you’re on your own. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter. “When will the limo be here?”

“Five. If you’re not ready, I’ve instructed him to leave. You won’t make a mockery out of my family by showing up late.”

It’s only a quarter past two. That’s plenty of time to doll myself up. Of course, I won’t look as fancy as I could had I used the stylist, but it’ll have to do. I just hope Winston’s mother doesn’t notice.

“Bye, Manda,” I bite out. “I have to get ready now.”

She regards me coolly before storming from my room, slamming the door in the process. I make my way into the bathroom and set to drying my hair. It takes forever because it’s thick and long, but I manage to get it dry. I decide to do loose curls and use my flat iron to do each piece. I waste an hour and a half making my hair look better than any stylist could ever do. I’m quite pleased with the bounciness and wonder if Winston will enjoy running his fingers through it.

I’m nervous about tonight, but I’m also excited. I want to prove to Winston I can stand by his side as someone he can be proud of.

I take a break even though it’s now almost four. It shouldn’t take long to put on my makeup and dress, but I can’t dawdle too much. Sitting on the bed, I dig out my phone and text Winston.

Me: Are you having fun?

Winston: Endless amounts.

Me: You just miss me.

Winston: Don’t flatter yourself.

Me: Liar. The stylist had to leave.

Winston: Should I send another?

Me: I’m not a complete idiot. I can do my own hair and makeup.

Winston: Send me a picture.

Me: I’ll trade you one.

He sends me a selfie of him scowling. Tons of photographers are milling about behind him in a luscious courtyard. It makes me laugh because he seems miserable. In return, I send him a smiling selfie of myself.

Me: I still have to throw on some makeup and my dress. The limo will be here at five.

Winston: I can’t wait to see your face all made up knowing I get to make you cry it off later when you’re choking on my dick.

I send him some emojis sticking their tongue out.

Me: I’ll send you a picture when I’m done. I expect endless amounts of praise.

Winston: You’re the only girl I know who shamelessly begs for compliments. They don’t count when you force them out of people.

Laughing, I toss the phone on my bed and head back into the bathroom to do my makeup. I’ve nearly got it done when Manda charges into the bedroom.

“Are you almost done, Ash? For crying out loud, the limo will be here in fifteen minutes!”

I climb off the bathroom sink and admire my face for a moment. Definitely better than any stylist could do. I spritz on some perfume and then walk into my bedroom to find Manda scowling. She hastily unzips my garment bag and pulls it away to reveal my beautiful dress.

“This dress is an embarrassment,” Manda snipes. “You do realize there will be women showing off their breasts and thighs and arms? You’ll be dressed like a nun.”

“And you do realize Winston chose that dress for me? He likes it, and he likes me.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “For the life of me and your father, we can’t seem to understand why. Your father thinks it’s the sex. You’re young and he’s older. I tried to tell him that Mr. Constantine seems to value you for your brain and skills, but your father won’t hear of it. And honestly, I don’t believe Mr. Constantine. Your father is horrified at the prospect Mr. Constantine will end things and you’ll come unglued with your teenage emotions, clinging to him in a way that’ll get you a restraining order.” She yanks the dress off the hanger and starts for me. “You cannot do anything to jeopardize this family’s social standing with the Constantines. Mr. Constantine has given me an in with his mother since her plastic surgeon is retiring soon. It’s a great thing for our family. If he truly does fall for you, a marriage to him will only complete things.”