One Night with Cinderella - Niobia Bryant Page 0,14

father’s presence, or the decline in family events over the last few months.

Even the night of the celebration, Gabe had left the rest of the family behind to party alone.

It is none of my concern. It’s my job to clean up their physical messes. Not the emotional ones. I just hate they don’t know how blessed they are to have each other. I wish I had—

She pushed away that long-held regret, refusing to give any more energy to her grief over her parents not wanting her for their own.

Quickly, Monica finished her duties and was glad to leave. She had just peeled back a veil to the Cress family that she could not unsee. With that, she no longer viewed them as a loving, close-knit family.

* * *

“Gabe, Gabe, Gabe.”

The memory of that night and his name tumbling from Monica’s lips with a passion she couldn’t hide had him in a trance. So much so that he didn’t even see the Manhattan skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office in the Cress, INC. headquarters in Midtown. Instead, in the reflection, he visualized a scene of him making love to Monica playing out before him.

And that had been nearly a constant during the last three weeks.

Monica had surprised him that night and left him impressed with her ardor. The passion.

Still, no matter how delicious their tryst, it had been a one-time treat. He wasn’t interested in anything more with the shy beauty and her hidden hunger. Nothing could ever be between them but hot sex, and he was willing to honor her request for a one-night stand.

“Just this once. Then I better make it damn good.”

“Please.”

Gabe had learned long ago the leap from good sex to love was easier for some women than most men. And his gut told him Monica Darby was that type. He had no love to give, and he would never want to lead her on when he knew he was just as adamant about his success as he was in avoiding a serious relationship. His romantic history had proven he was unable to balance the expectations of both love and his career without anyone suffering.

Most important, he was fully aware his mother would fire Monica if she discovered their tryst. Common sense said Monica needed her job, and he’d much rather have the trustworthy and efficient woman as their reliable housekeeper than his temporary bedmate. Anything else was selfish on his part.

I can’t believe I almost messed it all up, he thought.

Not that it hadn’t been one hell of a night.

They’d both agreed that they should put the night behind them and move on as if it had never happened.

It’s for the best.

Still, he was quite tired of waking up from erotic dreams of her and taking cold showers to ease his desire.

Bzzzzzz.

Gabe cleared his throat and turned in his chair to face his ebony-wood desk. He pressed the intercom button. “Yes,” he said briskly, flexing his agile fingers before turning to type his password to access his laptop.

“Your brother Phillip Jr. is here,” his assistant said, her voice echoing through the speakerphone of the system.

“Gabe, Gabe, Gabe.”

“Send him in,” he said, ignoring the sultry memory that seemed akin to the enchanting whispers of one of Homer’s Sirens. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he was thankful to his brother for intruding on thoughts of Monica he knew he had no right having.

Phillip Jr. opened the door and strolled in, closing it behind him. “I heard you and Lucas went to look at a new factory for the cookware line,” he said, his deep voice booming.

It matched his tall muscular frame. He lived up to the comparison to former wrestler turned actor Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. To tease him, the brothers would all mimic The Rock’s signature wrestling line: Can you smell what The Rock is cooking? Tongue wiggle and all.

“Yes. He wanted my advice,” he said, going to the website of the James Beard Award to scroll down to announced nominees in the categories for restaurants and chefs before briefly glancing over at his brother.

“After he asked me for it first and then left me hanging? Or were you two plotting against me?” Phillip Jr. asked, coming to stand behind one of the chairs lined in front of the desk and gripping the back of one of them so tightly Gabe feared his fingers would burst through the leather.

Gabe leaned back in his chair and eyed his brother. “In what way, Philly?” he