The Glass Slipper (Cinderella 3)

The slightly twangy ding of the elevator signals it’s ready for our ascent eighty floors into the clouds where a family of rats await. Footsteps approach, and before we enter the elevator, said rats scurry around us, chasing off the building’s natural scent with that of aggression. Perry’s body tenses, but I ignore them, stepping into the elevator. My brother and I stand with our backs to the wall as the Morellis file inside.

“Evening, gentlemen,” I greet, my grin wolfish. “If you like steak, the Manhattan Mile High Club has the second best…” I trail off, tapping my jaw. “Now that Edge is no longer around, I suppose theirs is the best now.”

Lucian doesn’t reward me with a reaction, remaining rigid and stone-faced. Leo, though, is predictably a bastard. He glares at me with glittering menace. Lucian must be keeping him on a leash because he doesn’t say anything. The box becomes crowded as several bodyguards join them and a man with a thick file folder tucked under his arm. From the looks of it, one of their bastard attorneys. It’s ridiculous the two of us against this army of assholes. They’re probably strapped with weapons whereas the only thing Perry and I carry are our powerful last name and heavy wallets. The Morellis are reckless cowboys in a world that’s long-past blurred by them. Where everyone else in this city has evolved and realizes that money is the sharpest blade there is, they’re still clinging to their guns and macho fucking attitudes.

Perry mashes the button for the 80th floor and then keeps his hands threaded together in front of him. I take my time sweeping my stare over each one of our enemies, taking in all their imperfections one by one.

“Just the two of you?” Lucian asks with a lift of his dark eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little…unprepared?”

I glance at Leo pointedly. “I think, Lucian, that your little brother was the one who was unprepared when he started making deals he wasn’t capable of upholding.”

The elevator dings and opens on the 27th floor, saving us from a Leo explosion. An elderly couple on a residential level eyes the tense crowd and waves us on to take the next elevator. The doors close once more. My phone buzzes and I pull it out to read a text from Ulrich.

Ulrich: Found more stuff for you, boss. Gave it all to Tony earlier.

Me: Nice work.

The elevators open again on the 68th floor. A man in a suit—my man—steps on. Xavier says nothing as his imposing presence fills the otherwise crowded space. Now we both have security. I know they hire the best. So do we. Here’s hoping neither of them need to draw their weapons during this meeting.

The tick of Lucian’s jaw tells me he realizes he knows better than to underestimate me. My expression is smug. If it irritates him, he manages to keep it in check. We stop at another floor near the top, making room for Todd. Where Xavier tends to be more broody, Todd is a little more friendly. He’s not smiling tonight, though. Both my men are a tense wall of muscle blocking the elevator doors. The unease rippling from the Morellis is a nice appetizer before I feast on their stupidity.

Finally, the doors open, depositing us onto the 80th floor. The savory scents of perfectly seared beef and garlic hanging in the air has my stomach grumbling. I’d give up any five-star meal, though, to have canned hamburger slop with Ash.

I try not to think about her making that bizarre shit in my kitchen the next time, but the thoughts barge in anyway. Barefoot and a messy bun piled on top of her head. A sassy grin and moving about as though my space belongs to her. It’s a dangerous thought—one I haven’t been keen on entertaining until now.

Things are changing.

I’m beginning to accept that Ash is a formidable opponent.

She plays my game better than me.

As tempting as it is to dwell on thoughts of the girl who stormed into my world leaving a trail of Starburst wrappers, pink feathers, and a whole lot of fucking attitude, I need to focus.

I have Morellis to shame.

The maître d’ greets us and ushers us through the busy restaurant to an eight-top table in the all-glass floor-to-ceiling-windowed corner. It’s set for six place settings. Anthony is seated beside one head of the table, a thick file of paperwork sitting on the tabletop in front of him. The goons and my two men flank the windows on either side, remaining nearby in case they’re needed, but out of earshot for our business dealings.

I take a seat at the head of the table beside Anthony and Perry sits next to me. Leo takes the other end with their attorney between him and Anthony. Lucian sits to the right on Perry’s side of the table.