It only happens in fairy tales.
I am under no impression that I am Cinderella. In fact, I am more likely to be one of her flat-footed stepsisters. Leon winces as my heeled shoe stepps on his black leather Louboutin Greggo for the fifth time.
“At this point, we might have to surgically remove those shoes with how swollen his toes will be.” Vas cracks up from the sidelines where he is playing DJ.
This is utterly humiliating, and both Dima and Vas are getting far more entertainment from my pain than they should be.
Leon swears under his breath in Italian as he signals for Vas to cut the music.
“How do you not know how to waltz?” he asks me. “Didn’t Elias take you to parties?”
I snort. “Yeah, but I was never allowed to dance. I was an ornament, nothing more. Do you honestly think he’d allow for me to have a modicum of fun and entertainment?” I scoffed. “That would take away fromhisentertainment, which was making me as uncomfortable as possible.”
Leon sighs, running a hand through his dark Italian locks.
“The gala is only a week away, and you need to learn to blend in, Ava,” Dima speaks up from the sidelines.
“Matthias hates to dance anyway, so I should be fine,” I point out.
Something is off. The three of them exchange uncomfortable glances, their gazes avoiding mine. I don’t need Matthias’s fancy body language knowledge to know they are hiding something. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Vas coughs, his mouth twisting in distaste.
“You aren’t going as Matthias’s date.” His tone is hard and almost akin to disgust. This decision is apparently one he doesn’t agree with. From the looks on all three of their faces, none of them agree with their boss.
“So what?” I ask, fearing I already know the answer. “We’re going stag?”
Dima shakes his head, arms crossed against his chest.
“You’ll be going as my date,” Leon huffs. “Matthias has…”
“His own date,” I finish for the Italian. Of course he has his own date. Besides his inner circle and Liam’s main men, no one knows we are married. Matthias, it would seem, wants to keep it that way.
“Okay.” I take a long, slow breath as I gather myself together. We have a job to do, and I won’t let this affect me. I’d play his game, for now, but it won’t be long before all bets are off. I needmore of those delicious orgasms he gave me, and I’ll get as many as I can while I can. “Let’s do this.”
“Remember,” Leon reminds me as we take our stance. “Let me lead.”
Several hours later and more than a few colorful curses, we are done.
Fuck, my feet hurt like hell. Who likes wearing heels and dancing around like that all night? It is ridiculous. I sit at one end of the tub, letting the salted water lap at my bruised and sore feet.
Leon is a taskmaster, and I refused to give up. It has nothing to do with representing Leon at the gala. I could give two shits about what some stodgy paper pushers think of my waltz. I want to show up Matthias. The man who refuses to publicly acknowledge we are even married. Instead, the asshole decides to attend the function with one of Vivian’s hookers or something.
Wonder-fuckin-ful.
There is a moment, while I am staring out the window of the high-rise, watching as the city below comes to life under the light of the moon, that I wonder what it’s really like out there. Streetlamps flicker on. Neon signs light up the darkened alleyways. Men and women leave the safety of their homes, dressed in their best clothes, hair done up, ready to hit the city’s clubs for a night of fun and debauchery.
Something I’ve never experienced.
I already said Matthias was playing a game with me.
Now it is my turn to play one right back.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to live a little for once in my life.
After all,girls just wanna have fun.
The satin red dress clings to my every curve like a second skin, its ruched sides leaving my upper thighs nearly bare, showcasing the brand-new needlework etched into the right side.
