The Glass Slipper (Cinderella 3)
“I need video footage in front of a restaurant. Can you get it for me?”
“I can get whatever you want, boss. All’s you gotta do is ask.”
Your secrets won’t be secrets for long, Meredith.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ash
We’re not broken.
Still fractured, but not broken.
I knew my Uber threat would get him. I’m a little smug at the fact I was able to distract him while on his lunch date. It was like the old Win was back—my Win.
He never returned from his lunch date. While it annoyed me, I didn’t let it bug me too much. Perry said Layla isn’t his type and that Win has an ulterior motive. I have to trust in that because the alternative hurts too much.
“What happened in Paris?” I ask, looking up from the file spread out in front of me to meet Perry’s tired stare.
“You’re all over the place today,” he replies, frowning.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Nothing good.”
“Still doesn’t answer it.”
I lift a brow, conveying I’m not going to let this go.
“Why do you care? Where is this even coming from?”
“I just noticed Halcyon does a lot of business in France. If Win had to jump on a plane to take care of something, I figured it must be important.”
“Everything my brother does is important.”
I try not to preen at the idea I’m considered important based on that logic.
Perry studies me for a beat as if he can see inside my mind to figure out where I’m going with all this. I’m not even sure, really. All I know is the files I’ve been poring over today are filled with French names just like the contracts I was looking over earlier this week with Nate.
“A big acquisition we were working on over there fell through at the last minute. Everything was good and then suddenly we were being steamrolled by another buyer.” He scowls. “No one outbids a Constantine.”
“And yet you lost it anyway?”
“Is that why Nate’s been digging so deep through all those foreign contracts?”
Perry’s brow furls and he opens his mouth to speak but a light tap at his door stops him. “It’s open,” he calls out, his voice filled with gruff authority that reminds me of his brother.
The door swings open and Caroline Constantine’s presence fills the office like a gust of icy air, freezing me to my marrow.
“Mom,” Perry says, rising to his feet, a bright smile on his face.
She thaws a little at his greeting and accepts the hug he gives her. I’ve never seen her anything less than frigid and poised, but with Perry, she’s a bit warmer than usual. He has that way about him.
“What’s up?” he asks her, pulling back to study her face with a glint of worry on his features. “Winny isn’t here. Lunch date with Layla and then who knows what after.”
The fact he now says Layla like he says Tate has me smothering a grin.
Like the perceptive woman she is, Caroline zeroes in on me. “Layla, hmm? Lovely woman.”
“Lovely Layla,” Perry deadpans.
“You know the name of her yacht.” Caroline’s lips twitch slightly as though she might smile, pleased with her son’s sleuthing skills.
“As do you,” I mutter, unable to keep quiet.
Her narrowed eyes find me and she peels me apart layer by layer. I have nothing to hide. Not now. Win knows I was dealing with stalker Leo and the whole damn world knows about our sex life.
“Just the woman I came to see,” Caroline says, her words chilly and borderline cruel. “Would it be possible to steal you away?”
That sounds ominous.
I’m about to tell her I’m busy helping Perry when he shoots me a pleased grin. “Take her. She’s making me work too hard anyway.”
“Can’t have that now, can we?” Caroline murmurs. “Your brother works hard enough the rest of you don’t have to.”
“But he does work hard,” I can’t help but defend. “Perry’s smart and dedicated like Win is. This isn’t some blow-off job he got because of his brother. He enjoys it and is really good at it.”
Perry rubs at the back of his neck like he’s both embarrassed and surprised. They should remind him of how important he is to their family. Just because he’s not ruthless like Win doesn’t mean he’s not a capable contributor.
“Let’s go, Miss Elliott. We have much to discuss.” Caroline turns to her son, pulling something off his lapel—a stray hair or piece of lint—before saying, “Don’t work too hard, son. I’m looking forward to brunch again soon with my children. Say you’ll make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he agrees and I can tell he means it. “Go easy on her, Mom.”
“Oh, you sweet, sweet boy,” Caroline says. “Nothing is easy in our world.”
* * *
Another awkward car ride with the matriarch of the Constantine empire. This one is only amplified by the fact she knows I’ve been up to some really naughty stuff with her eldest son. I try not to fidget in my seat, but it proves to be an impossible feat when Caroline’s hard eyes flay me where I sit.