Cin Wikkid: April Fools For Love (10 page)

“Choose, Ms. Wikkid,” the silver-haired gentleman echoed with derision. “If you can.”

Panic screamed up through her lungs at the man’s tone. Why did he dislike her so much…hate her? She could almost understand Ez’s hatred, being forced to rub shoulders with her stepsister for all these years. But she didn’t even know this silver-haired man.

Prince’s cobalt eyes, so familiar yet hard on her like a stranger’s, didn’t help.

She swallowed the lump of despair and forced herself to think. Years of studying despite the interruptions of the Wikkid household, let her focus.

Okay, I know it’s the symbol that’s important…

Cin took the slipper then glanced up at Prince, the adult standing beside the portrait of himself as a boy with his mother. Memory clicked.

I’ve seen her before.

The deep Internet search she’d done. A young Gideon gazing up at his mother, her eyes soft gazing down at him, no less full of love.

He’d been holding that glass slipper.

She nearly opened her mouth to blurt the shoe was a symbol of the charitable foundation, Glass Slipper, Inc.

Stopped.

Rafe once told her,
“Knowing one or two facts at the beginning of the chapter is easy. To really master a subject, you have to let unlimited curiosity drive you…and to be truly wise, you must care.”

Wisdom was both mind and heart.

This test wasn’t simply about identification. This was a test of his potential bride’s understanding, her wisdom.

This was a test of her heart.

Her pulse gave a painful thump then started racing. Research told her the slipper was a symbol for his mother’s charitable foundation.

But it was Cin’s love for Rafe that enabled her to make the leap.

The slipper wasn’t simply a symbol for the
foundation,
but for his
mother.
This slipper was a tie to the first woman he loved.

This glass slipper was his heart. And he was offering it to his bride.

“Oh God.” She turned to him, her pulse hammering. “You said yourself, you’re a man of few words. A doer, not a talker. You won’t offer your bride
words
of love, but that doesn’t mean you don’t
have
love.” She held up the slipper. “The first woman who loved you shared this with you. It’s a symbol of your heart, a fitting symbol, since glass is so fragile.”

“Yes.” He whispered it, and for the merest moment, she saw only Rafe in his cobalt eyes.

“You offer this slipper as a commitment.” Her throat felt tight, her chest even tighter. “You may not come to love your bride, but you commit to honoring her and cherishing her, all the days of your life.”

“Yes.” Rafe’s eyes were glossy, filled with unspoken emotions. He blinked. “
Yes.
” He dropped to one knee and grabbed her hands, still around the slipper. “Cinderella Wikkid, you passed the test. I’d be honored to share my life with you, everything I am or will be, including my wealth. Will you marry me?”

“Gideon, no!” Heavy clothes rustled, the silver-haired man springing to his feet. “The board won’t approve,
I
don’t approve—“

“The board isn’t marrying her.” Rafe’s tone was hard, a stranger’s—no, not a stranger’s. Gideon’s.

That was the Prince heir, commanding obedience, brooking no interference in his choice of bride to keep his fortune.

That damned fortune.
He’d said he had to go through with the test for honor, but conveniently, it also meant he wouldn’t lose his money.

Her heart burst in sorrow.
Cinderella Wikkid, you passed the test.

Rafe wouldn’t marry on a deadline. He’d chuck the family fortune to live as he chose. To marry whom he wanted, not some winner of a test, no matter how well thought-out.

What kind of man puts money over love?

She’d had the beginning of a solid relationship with Rafe Montoya. Mutual respect. Mutual pleasure. Not mutual trust, but maybe that would have come. But now…

Gideon Prince had reduced that relationship to a damned test.

“My stepmother used to do this.” Her eyes were hot, itchy, her throat tight. “She subjected my father to tests, too. Making him jump through hoops to prove his love. That’s wrong. There are enough tests and pressures on a relationship from the outside. It’s not healthy between two people who are supposed to care about each other.”

“Are you saying…no?” His voice cracked.

At the shimmering in his eyes, her heart began to break. “I can’t say yes.”

“You can’t say
no.
” He jumped to his feet. “You got in line. Took the test.”

Softer, so that only he could hear, she said, “Rafe, I owe you a lot. My future is brighter because of you. And I care for you, more than anyone I’ve ever met. I-I love you. But when the stakes are the rest of our lives…? That’s too important to start off so wrong. I not only can say no, I
have
to.”

His face contorted as if she’d skewered him through the heart.

The clock struck the first chime of twelve.

Midnight. His deadline to pick a bride.

“Ha. That tears it.” The silver-haired man’s satisfaction was abrasive. “Now you’ll have to name someone more
suitable.
”

Tearfully, Cin drew her hands, clasped tightly around the glass slipper, from Prince’s, turned, and wobbled toward the door. Not all of it was the pinpoint heels. It made her unsteady, knowing full well what would happen now.

Even though she’d been the one to say no, her chest hurt as if a sadistic surgeon used a melon baller to scoop out her internal organs. Gideon Prince would do right by the Prince Industries board. He’d marry someone appropriate.

Not her.

Boo-hoo, poor me. What about the man behind me? The part of him that is my Rafe will slowly wither and die.

She faltered.

Just as Gideon roared, “Cin, no!”

She jerked around. He was rushing toward her like a freight train.

Panic spurted in her blood. He was
dangerous.
He’d trapped her into taking this test despite herself. He was sharp enough to stop her now.

She couldn’t let him. For the
them
that would never be, she did the only thing she could think of—she threw the slipper at him.

He caught it, bobbled it, and barely kept it from crashing to the floor and shattering into a thousand pieces.

Like my heart.

Sobbing, she fled for the door. She found herself face-to-face with the silver-haired board members. Both of them stared at her with such naked hatred and disgust that suddenly, she was suffocating. Bending, she grabbed what air she could in gulping pants.

I have to leave. My heart is shredding. I have to leave before I bleed all over the floor.

She straightened, picked up her skirts, and ran out of the mansion.

Chapter Eight

Cin stumbled out the monolithic front doors, her lungs pumping, her skin hot, her face flaming.

But in her chest, her heart was a lump of shattered ice.

One of the doormen tried to take her arm to help her down the waterfall of stairs, but she waved him off. If she tripped and fell, it would only bruise her body.
Nothing
would end her internal misery.

Her first step, her high heel twisted, and she went down.

Idiot. You wanted misery, now you’ll get it.

As she tumbled, her life flashed before her eyes. A tot on a swing, pushed by her father, laughing in giddy happiness. A girl shot with pain, realizing her new family didn’t love her. A woman’s splash of surprise seeing Rafe’s chat head grin for the first time. The joy of meeting him in person, his fingers massaging out aches she hadn’t even known she had.

She’d miss his healing touch, if she got to the bottom of these steps alive.

Had she made a mistake, turning him down? It was the right thing to do, hard but right, but misery filled her. She decided integrity sucked.

Tumbling to a stop, she found herself in the driveway. She lay there, catching her breath, gently probing mentally to see if she was still in one piece, mad at herself for running, for tripping. If she was too injured to do her mock-hearing in a few days at Prince Industries…

Connections started firing.
Damn it
. The plum of a permanent position, which had suddenly, miraculously opened up at the company
Gideon Prince
owned. Rafe hadn’t been surprised when she’d asked him to coach her.
I’m a blind fool. He
is
Prince Industries.
Maybe he’d even signed off on the creation of the position…or
created it himself,
to force her to meet him.

She’d been so ashamed of herself. And he’d engineered it? She lay there, aching, cursing her own gullibility.
Here are Madam’s creamed bruises and heart shish kebab. Would Madam care for a dash of fresh ground insult over the top?

“
Cin.
Are you all right?” The clatter of running feet accompanied Rafe’s voice, and a moment later, the man himself knelt beside her. His hands skimmed her for injury.

Rafe came after me.
Her chest thawed with hope.

Not Rafe,
she snarled at herself.
Gideon.
Struggling to her elbows, she snapped, “Don’t you have a bride to choose?”

His hands lifted. He sat back on his heels with a sigh. “Yes. But I wanted to explain first.”

“I thought you didn’t have time to explain.”

“I didn’t. I don’t. I was hoping I’d have a lifetime to explain, after we…well, look, I’m not trying to change your mind. But you deserve some answers. So I’m making time.”

He helped her stand, and when she would have stomped back up the stairs toward his office, he simply lifted her off her feet, giant hoop skirt and all, and spun the other way.

Damn, he was strong.

He carried her off, away from the mansion.

Well sure,
she thought grumpily.
Probably doesn’t want to be alone with me in the office again, not after what had happened last time.

Had it meant more to her than to him? She knew better, but just the idea made her even crabbier. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“No, as I told you, I’d already set the plans for the ball in motion before we met—”

“Not the ball. The permanent position at Prince Industries. You weren’t surprised about it—did you create it to trick me in to meeting you?” Her roiling emotions steamrolled any discretion. “To bait me and get me in the sack…?”

He stopped, face darkening in the starlit night.

She realized she’d gone too far and opened her mouth to apologize.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he growled, low and rough, blazing gaze snaring hers. “I didn’t tutor you or meet you or do
anything
to try to get you into the sack. That, dear heart, was chemistry.”

He stalked off.

To Cin’s surprise and chagrin, she felt relief. What happened between them wasn’t manipulation. It was just
them.
“But you knew about the position.”

“Not when you asked me to meet you. But I heard about it on the way to the coffee shop. That’s why I wasn’t surprised.” He stalked into a gazebo and tumbled her onto a bench. “I have something to say. Are you going to listen, or are you going to accuse me of just trying to get in your pants?” His gaze flared in the starlight.

Not trusting herself to speak, she raised sheepish eyebrows, indicating he could talk uninterrupted.

“Look.” He spread his hands, the picture of a simple, earnest young man. “I understand what you said back there, about how bad it is to start a relationship with a test. And I agree, there are enough external stresses on a marriage. If one person has to constantly test the other’s commitment, it’s no real relationship. So I understand why you said no to marrying me.”

“You do?” Her heart began to soften.

“I do. But what I can’t let stand is you thinking I’m marrying just to hang on to my inheritance.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes or no?” He searched her face.

“Well…maybe.” Ashamed, she couldn’t meet his gaze, and hers fell.

“I thought so. Cin, it’s not that simple.”

Her softening heart hardened.
Of course it’s that simple.
She met his gaze then, head-on. “No? What is it then?”

“My mother…she was so full of charity and light and love. And yes, I l-loved her.”

His voice cracked on the word. Despite herself, Cin was awed at the strength of that love which was powerful enough to crack through Prince’s steel. She began to thaw again toward him.

“When I was a boy, when she was still alive…I was cherished by both my parents. After she passed away, my father was withdrawn, almost a shadow of himself. He slid into depression and died within the year, and I was alone. I had
nothing
anymore.”

Nothing, except immense wealth.

To her chagrin, he caught her stray thought.

“Yes, my money.” He snarled the word. “Bought me a lot of friends, growing up.”

“You mean brought?”

“I mean
bought.
I was so lucky to have that damned money. And my health, of course, which blessed me with these looks.” He waved a deprecating hand at his face and body. “I had money and looks and so many
friends,
life was wonderful right? Except I got cocky, and even I started believing my bevy of admirers were really admiring
me
, not my cash
.
Until the accident.”

“Accident?” Cin frowned. Her Internet search hadn’t turned up any hint of a less-than-glowing Prince past.

“The board of directors doesn’t want anything to rock the stock, ever. They hushed up my father’s depression and any hint of suicide. They hushed up a lot of things.” He paused, turning his face toward the sky. “Did you know I have a sister?”

“
What?
”

“She’s younger than me by six years. You probably haven’t heard about her because she’s got Asperger’s syndrome.”

“But…” Cin searched her memory. “That’s a kind of autism, isn’t it?”

“Similar, but children with Asperger’s have near-normal intelligence and language. They do develop repetitive behavior. Rituals they refuse to alter. And if you try…” His voice changed, going dark with emotion, thick with memory. He wasn’t explaining now, he was remembering. “If you change her rituals, even a little, even by accident, she screams her head off, and you think you’re the worst brother in the world.”

“I’m sorry.” Cin’s hand rose to her throat.

“Oh, and when I say difficulty socializing, I don’t mean a bit of awkwardness that wears off. I mean people
cringing
from her in horror, treating her like a pariah.” His tone never altered, but his fists, clenched whiter and whiter as he spoke, revealed his pain. Almost conversationally, he added, “You’re right, they don’t call it Asperger’s anymore.”

She whispered, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Yes. Me, too.” His gaze was hard on the night sky, as if he was watching it all play out again on the celestial screen.

After a moment, Cin dared, “What’s your sister’s name?”

“Rosette.” His throat seemed to close down completely on the name, and it came out as barely a breath. “Little Rose.”

“That’s a lovely name.”

“Thanks.” His rigid stance eased somewhat, and his gaze shifted to the vines braiding up one of the gazebo’s posts. “The damnable thing is, therapy was helping—until the fire happened. Asperger’s also makes you awkward physically, and when I got outside, I realized she wasn’t with me, and I—I went back in.”

“Oh, God.”

“A damp towel over nose and mouth got me inside, but I only had the one, and when I found her, she needed it more than me.”

Cin reached out to touch him, to comfort him.

A shake of his head stopped her. She dropped her hand, useless, to her lap.

“The Prince Industry board covered up the fire, too. We both lived, and that’s all that matters. But…” He heaved a breath. “We were both changed. Scarred. Hers were inside. She moved into the carriage house and refused to step foot outside it. My scars, well…half my face was burned.” He laughed, no humor in it. “Nineteen, and up until then, hounded by gorgeous rich women. But with my face a mass of puckers, ‘friends’ didn’t recognize me. Actively avoided me. Women who’d thrown themselves at me before actually spurned me. Called me names… It shocked me. Humbled me. Woke me.”

He still wasn’t looking at her. She reached for his hand again. He gave her the same tight, negative shake of his head, but this time she ignored it and wormed her fingers into his clenched fist.

The fight seemed to leave him at that. His shoulders slumped, and his gaze dropped to the floor of the gazebo. “The board arranged a year-long spa treatment for me with the best plastic surgeon in the world, but I realized I hardly knew who I was anymore. Instead of reclaiming Gideon’s face, I enrolled in the tech college under my middle name and my mother’s maiden name. I spent six months under the radar as Rafe—and I came to enjoy, then crave the breathing space it gave me. The ability to know that, if a man or woman liked me, it was for myself, not my looks or money. I found I enjoyed hard work, and I took on projects I thought would have made my mother proud.”

“I’m sure she would be very proud of you.”

“Only because she was a generous soul. Playboy Gideon wasn’t anyone to be proud of. Rafe was.”

“You were young. Nineteen.”

“And headed for a useless, parasitic life, before the fire. Once I had plastic surgery and skin grafting, the fawning started all over again. I was afraid to lose that…for lack of a better term, that
wisdom
I’d found. So, I had a fake scar prosthetic made, and cheek padding to disguise my face, and I went out regularly as Rafe. Did ordinary, helpful things. Hospital aide. Soup kitchen. Tutoring.”

“Selfless things.”

He laughed, and his fingers clutched hers harder, as if she anchored him somehow. “Actually, my identity as Rafe is the ultimate in selfishness, because the time I spend as him is entirely for myself, vital to my wellbeing. If not for that deadline…” He paused. “But that damned marriage deadline loomed over my head. Twenty-four was coming fast, and I still hadn’t connected with a woman who wanted me for
me.
As Gideon, I kept up my playboy lifestyle, not because I enjoyed it, but because the serial dating was the only way to meet enough women to possibly find one I could live with for the rest of my life.”

His gaze turned to hers then, and this time she didn’t look away, but met him with as much compassion as she could.

He took both her hands in his and sat beside her. “Cin, I would throw away the fortune in a heartbeat but for one thing—I have to keep my sister at home. She won’t leave that carriage house. That means I need to keep the estate, which means I must keep control of the company.”

“You don’t want to institutionalize her, I understand.”

He made a sound of frustration. “She might actually do better in a controlled, professional environment, like a special-needs boarding school. But I
can’t
send her away. The one time I tried, she freaked out and nearly killed herself.”

“Oh no. That’s horrible.” Cin swallowed a lump of pain for him. “I understand now, and I’m sorry I ever even thought you might be so shallow as to throw away love for money.”

“Love.” He took her face between his hands. “Cin, I
care
about you. Deeply. I think you’re the one, the woman for me. And maybe if we’d had more time together, we’d have grown closer, and I’d have proposed in the usual way. The right way, without tests or traps.” He paused, and a serendipitous shaft of moonlight lit his face; his eyes had never looked so blue. “Maybe I’d even be able to tell you the words you want to hear.”