Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Mr. Blake. We’re not friends. Address me properly,” he clips out.
Megan has to stifle a laugh. I turn a sharp look on her and her eyes are twinkling with mirth. I know she just heard him tell me to call him by his first name. My staff hates my stepfamily as much as I do.
Heck, I would laugh, too, if I wasn’t gearing up for the shit show about to happen. Here we are on today’s episode of “things like this only happen to Cinder.”
“Excuse me, forgive my rudeness,” my stepmother says and fidgets in indignation.
“I’m not here to see you. I’ve come to return this phone to Ms. Ellis.”
“Phone?” Glenda says.
“Yes, she left it after the ball last night.”
“Cindy wasn’t at the ball last night,” Rosa says dumbly.
Princeton snaps his head in my direction. His eyes light up, but a look of confusion also takes root. The questions in his eyes draw me in.
“Cindy,” he repeats.
“Yes, Cindy wasn’t at the ball last night. She couldn’t have left the phone with you,” Bianca says, failing terribly at hiding the venom in her voice.
Cindy. I hate that fucking name. My name is Cinder Ellis. For years my father shortened it to Cindy, which I didn’t mind from him. It was a sweet endearment.
These three hurl it like a weapon. Especially after finding out how much I hate it. It’s even on most of my documents.
My mother said she named me Cinder because even as a newborn, I was quiet but full of this energy that was just under the surface, waiting to combust at any moment.
I always loved the way she explained my name to me as a little girl. Cindy is a fucking insult to my mother’s memory. It always pisses me off, but I’ve learned to ignore it. Today, however, I want to lunge at the witch. She knows how much I hate it.
Princeton takes my phone from his pocket and holds it up in front of me. He has a smile on his lips as he looks down at me. That panty-melting smile almost calms some of my anger.
“Is this not your phone, Cindy?”
Before I can correct him on my name or answer him about the phone, Glenda saunters over to pluck the phone from his hands. She plasters on a fake smile and bats her lashes up at him.
“Oh my God! This is my phone. I was so upset. I thought I had lost it.
“That phone check business was so annoying. I couldn’t even call my stepsister to see if she was okay. I felt so bad that she fell ill and couldn’t come to the ball last night,” she says and puts on a fake pout.
My face has to say all the shit I’m thinking. First, Glenda and I aren’t even the same damn complexion. I’m dark-to-medium brown, a chocolate sister, and she’s light brown, caramel colored.
Princeton would have to be blind to confuse us. Not to mention her tacky blonde weave. That dry thing could never be mistaken for my dark curly waves, not even when I straighten it.
I go to speak, but Princeton holds up his hand. I jerk my head back and frown, but I clamp my mouth shut. Something in his eyes tells me to let him handle this one.
“So, you’re telling me that you’re the one I kissed last night?” he says and lifts a brow.
I school my face quickly as all eyes shoot to me. We never kissed. I stopped him the one time he tried.
“Yes, that was me,” Glenda says and moves closer to him, shooting me an evil glare over her shoulder.
“That blue gown you wore was stunning,” Princeton says with a wolfish smile. “Funny, under the ballroom lighting, your hair wasn’t blonde.”
“Oh, it was a wig. I wanted to do something different for the party,” Glenda lies.
“Hmm. Did you enjoy our time on the balcony as much as I did?”
“Yes, I truly did. Especially the kiss.”
I want to burst into laughter. This witch is such a liar and idiot. She’s playing right into his hands.
I fold my arms over my chest as I fume. Bianca looks at me with a smug grin on her lips. Rosa, the idiot she is, looks completely confused. Bianca has to pinch her when she goes to say something.
I can’t believe these three.
“Here, unlock your phone. I want to give you my number. I had such a great time with you last night. We have to go to dinner,” he says smoothly.
“Oh, um… I,” Glenda fumbles as she takes the phone. I can see her face blanch as she fails to open it the first two times. “I thought this phone was a loss. So, we stopped to get a new one. That’s why we were late this morning.”
“You should still be able to unlock this one, right?” Princeton says.