One Night with Cinderella - Niobia Bryant Page 0,42

A pair of women whose names she chose to forget but whose pretentious faces were etched into her brain gave her odd looks. She responded with a high eyebrow raise. Sean was in the center of a small crowd who looked at him in slight rapture as he spoke. And Cole, still sitting on the steps, raised his snifter of brown liquor in a toast to her, making her smile.

Felice walked up to them carrying a tray of heavy hors d’oeuvres.

Again, Monica politely declined, earning her a brief, odd look from the housekeeper.

“Mr. Cress, your father would like you and your brothers to join him in the study,” she said.

Gabe nodded. “Thank you, Felice.”

With one last quick look at Monica, the woman moved on about the room, offering the guests the decadent appetizers and informing each brother of their father’s request.

“A family meeting midparty?” Monica asked. “I think my nose will be itching.”

Gabe pressed his hand to her lower back and she felt the heat of his touch through the thin material. “Honestly? That’s probably true.”

She smiled to shield her nervousness as she straightened his silk tie before smoothing her hands across the lapels of his suit. “Don’t get spanked?” she lightly teased.

“And you take nothing off anyone,” Gabe stressed.

“You’re leaving me alone in the wild?” she said.

“I’ll keep you company.”

They both turned to find Raquel standing beside them. Phillip Jr. continued on to the stairs, where he patted Cole’s shoulder on his way past him.

“Thanks, Raq,” Gabe said before striding away, as well, to follow his brothers up the stairs.

“Interesting,” Raquel said, raising her flute of champagne in a toast to her. “You absolutely just made my night.”

“Did I?” Monica asked before enjoying another sip.

“Sometimes it’s nice to see the facade of Nicolette crack just a little,” she admitted. “And tonight, she is barely holding it together.”

Monica eyed the woman of whom they spoke and wholeheartedly agreed. It would be clear only to those who really knew Madame Cress that the constant touches to her hair, biting at her lips, gripping of everything she touched and movement about the room revealed she was livid and probably fully in favor of her husband lambasting Gabe.

Yes. It was amusing to watch her fight like hell to keep it together.

Monica smiled into her glass.

“Shall we kill one of the elephants in the room?” Raquel asked. “Before or after?”

Monica was no fool. The woman wanted to know if her dealings with Gabe started before or after she ended working for the family. She was clear it was none of Raquel’s business—or anyone else’s. Her days of obligation to the Cress family were over. “After,” she lied.

“Mama, I want to come to the party!”

Monica looked up at Phillip Jr. and Raquel’s daughter, Collette, standing at the top of the stairs in a shiny pink dress, a pair of her mother’s heels and red lipstick smeared haphazardly around her mouth.

“Oh! All dressed for the party,” she said, as everyone in attendance began to laugh.

“Let her come to the party, Raq,” a woman in the crowd yelled.

“Yes, let her come to the party,” someone agreed.

“Definitely not,” Raquel said, handing her flute to a passing server before quickly crossing the room and taking the stairs to gather Collette’s hand in her own and guide her back up to her room.

Left alone and feeling watched, Monica moved through the crowd scattered about the spacious living room to the kitchen. Jillian was wiping her hands with a small towel that she then flung over her left shoulder before wiping her sweaty brow with her arm.

Monica tapped the side of her glass with the oversize gold ring on her index finger. “Kudos, Chef,” she said.

Jillian smiled in surprise. “What are you doing here?” she asked as she took in Monica’s dress and new flowing waves of her hair. “Are you a guest?”

“Of Gabriel’s,” Monica admitted.

Jillian looked surprised, then pleased and then curious.

“Before. Once,” she said, giving her the truthful answer to the elephant found in yet another room. “Lots. After.”

Jillian fell silent and lightly touched her chin as she looked off in the distance.

Monica thought of the note one of the Cress family members had left for her: the taste of you still lingers on my tongue.

Maybe even Gabriel.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Monica said, coming into the kitchen to stand on the other side of the island.

The women eyed each other.

Jillian smiled. It was a little sad. Melancholy. “Lots. During,” she admitted. “After I quit one day? None.”

She understood that