At the Stroke of Midnight (Naughty Princess Club 1)

“The problem is, you did it wrong. You’re supposed to marry the first guy for love and the second guy for money,” she says with a smile to lighten the heavy load I just spilled.

“I am never getting married again.”

“Amen, sister.”

Ariel holds up her hand and I give her a high five, after which she turns away from me and starts heading up the stairs.

The doorbell rings, stopping me from following her.

“Where are you going?” I ask as I make my way to the front door.

“Just going upstairs to make sure I got all the beige nightmare out of your closet. We’re having a party this weekend, and we’re burning shit,” she shouts over her shoulder from the top of her stairs.

“We are not burning anything this weekend!” I yell after her as I open the door, the smile on my face dying and my heart immediately trying to pound its way out of my chest when I see who’s standing on my front step.

“Cynthia.”

Vincent practically spits my name out as he stands in the open doorway wearing one of his usual tailored, three-piece suits, his arms folded in front of him.

I know this man has no clue I was the woman sitting on PJ’s lap last week at the club, but it still doesn’t stop the embarrassment of knowing it myself, causing my cheeks to flush and my hands to shake.

The chiming of an incoming text message has me quickly grabbing my phone out of my back pocket to silence it, but not before I see another text from PJ.

My lap is always available if you need something to do, Cin.

Even with Vincent standing here looking like he wants to murder me, and knowing that he saw me give a guy a lap dance even if he didn’t know it was me, PJ’s comment still makes me tingle in all the right places at the wrong time.

“We need to talk,” Vincent says as my phone chimes in my hand again.

All the tingling immediately disappears when I see PJ’s next message.

What about a dog grooming business? You like dogs, right? Dogs are cute and cuddly.

“Since you’ve been ignoring my repeated phone calls and numerous voice messages,” Vincent continues in a snotty voice, “I had no other choice but to show up here unannounced. This has turned into a very serious situation, Cynthia. We will be getting the lawyers involved if you don’t hand over the money that was stolen.”

My blood starts to boil as I listen to this man lecture me, while the man who won’t stop texting me continues to make it worse.

You could write a book. I’ve heard self-publishing is all the rage right now.

I don’t know who to be more disappointed in: The man who has known me since I was eighteen years old and doesn’t even care about how much I’ve been struggling since Brian left, or the man on the other end of the phone, who still doesn’t understand why I’m doing this.

“I don’t have your money, Vincent,” I tell him quietly, wishing all of the anger and frustration that’s boiling right under the surface would just come screaming out of me, right into this man’s face.

I want it to. I really, really want it to. I even open my mouth to let a whole string of curse words I’ve never used come flying out of it, but nothing aside from a nervous squeak comes out. I need to channel the woman who flew onto PJ’s lap without thinking, but she’s nowhere to be found as I stand here in my own home, letting this man threaten me and intimidate me.

“The clock is ticking. You should consider yourself lucky that I’m giving you any more time at all,” Vincent finishes, giving me a terse nod before turning and walking away, leaving me standing in the doorway, unable to move or speak as I watch him get into his Lexus and drive away.

After all this time, after all the ways that man has let me down over the last few months, I still want him to love me and respect me, and no amount of screaming at him will change that. He was the first father figure I had after my own father died. He gave me something I’d been missing since I was ten years old and my father left me all alone. He gave me someone to look up to, and he became someone I wanted to impress, and someone I wanted to be proud of me. No matter how much he’s hurt me with his accusations and his cruelty, I’m still that same, lonely little girl just wanting to have a father who will love her. It’s sad, and it’s pathetic, and I don’t know how to make those feelings go away.

With tears in my eyes and disappointment with myself raging through my body, I slowly close the door and lean against it, letting my head thump back against the wood. The phone in my hand chimes again, and I swipe away at the tears that have fallen down my cheeks as I look at another message from PJ.