Page 25 of Falling for Them (Cinderella’s Daddies #1)

Twenty-Two

Ella

Bartleby’s isn’t very busy on Thursday night, which is good, because my head is a buzzing mess of confusion and anticipation and overanalysis.

Sebastian and Mr. Tyler want to see me again. How the hell am I supposed to remember whether someone wants an IPA or a porter when the two hottest men I’ve ever seen in my entire life want to get naked with me again ?

The weirdest part, though, is that they want to date. Me.

It certainly can’t be all that difficult to find women who want to date them—even with the less-than-traditional aspect of dating them both together.

I don’t even think the whole daddy thing would be a deal-breaker.

I mean, I didn’t know that it was something I’d be into, but damn, wow, I was totally into it.

“Ella!” Kevin calls from the bar. “Pay attention. Twenty-one is trying to flag you down.”

Oops. Sure enough, the women at table twenty-one are waving at me.

“So sorry,” I say as I reach them. “My mind was wandering.”

“No worries,” one of the women says, winking. “Happens to us all. We’d love another round, though.”

“On it,” I say. “Thanks for understanding.”

Kevin gives me a questioning look when I sidle up to the computer and plug in their drink orders. I verbally relay the order to Kevin, as well, so he can get a head start on pouring the beer.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I start to say, but the word dies on my lips as four burly men walk into the pub.

They’re the same ones who were asking me about Tommy, a little over two weeks ago.

“Ella?” Kevin prompts.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t shake.

I’m too tired for this. Because of course the four guys sit down in my section. And today, I’m working with Nicholas-don’t-call-me-Nick, and he’s not someone I would describe as a team player.

The burly men look up as I approach, and the looks on their faces aren’t hungry, exactly, but more anticipatory. They’re hoping to get something from me, and I am pretty damn sure it isn’t just burgers and beer.

As I reach their table, I take a deep breath and paste on a smile. “What can I get for you three?”

“Cheeseburger, fries, and a pale ale,” the first guy says.

I jot that down in a notebook, asking how he wants his burger cooked, then I look up at the next guy.

When I get to the fourth man, he says, “I just want a beer, don’t care what kind, and I want to know where the fuck we can find your brother.”

My blood freezes. I drop the notebook and pen. Leaving them on the floor, I take a step back, and then another.

“I can’t help you,” I say.

The man stands up. He’s at least a head taller than I am, and his beefy arms strain against his ill-fitting suit jacket. “If you value your life, you will.”

I take another step back, and smack into our busser, Sonia. The tray she’s holding crashes to the floor, and the ceramic mugs on top of it shatter.

“What’s going on out there?” Kevin demands.

“Um, nothing, I don’t think,” I say.

But Kevin doesn’t believe me, I guess, because he comes out from behind the bar. He takes one look at me, and one look at the four men. Staring hard at them, he says, “Get out.”

“We just want some food and a couple of beers,” one of them says.

The biggest guy, the fourth one who threatened me, still hasn’t sat down.

“Go on,” Kevin says. “This server is obviously terrified. That’s not how this place is run. Grow up, learn some manners, and then you can come back.”

Kevin isn’t big and beefy. He isn’t tall, and he isn’t broad. But there’s something about him that these men must respond to, or maybe they’re satisfied now that they’ve scared the shit out of me, because all four of them make their way to the door and leave.

“Get comfortable when your shift is over,” Kevin says, “because I’m driving you home tonight.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I didn’t like the way they looked,” he says. “I have to. Unless you’re going to order a ride?”

He knows I’m not—he knows I’m dirt poor.

I nod. “Thank you.”

When my shift is over, Kevin makes me a BLT sandwich with a salad on the side, and french fries and he pours me a hard cider.

I blink back tears as I tuck into my feast. I haven’t been getting enough to eat or sleep, lately.

It’s been pub food or nothing. And it’s freaking hard to fall asleep on an empty stomach, although I’m getting used to it.

“You’re too nice to me,” I say to Kevin from the end of the bar where I sit.

“You haven’t met enough nice people, then,” he says gruffly, wiping up a spill with one of the ever-present towels he keeps behind the bar.

Maybe he’s right. But my circle of nice people is expanding. Kevin, Mrs. Dali, Natasha. Tommy on good days.

And Mr. Tyler and Sebastian.

When I think of those two, I squirm a little on my bar stool. That night, after the gala—every time I think about it, I get wet. I don’t think any other guy is going to be able to satisfy me, not like Mr. Tyler and Sebastian did.

I no longer care that Mr. Tyler is my ex-boyfriend’s dad. At least, it doesn’t bother me.

Am I a freak because it kind of turns me on? Possibly.

Calling them daddy , having Mr. Tyler fucking me while Sebastian licked my clit…dammit, I need them. Like, right now. Can a person die of lust? At the moment, it sure as hell feels like it.

But tomorrow night, I’ll be in their arms again.

I can’t fucking wait.

Kingston

“You’re early today,” Julia, one of the security guards, says to me when I arrive at the building.

“Yeah, hoping to get out of here early, too,” I say.

She nods. “I hope you’re doing something fun. It’s the weekend.”

“That’s my plan,” I say, before stepping into the elevator.

I get into my office and glance around. The place looks the same as always. The new maid is doing a good job, I guess. They aren’t Ella, of course, but they’re doing fine. I no longer stay at work so late anymore, because there’s no chance of running into her.

Even though everything seems to be in order, I can’t shake a feeling of dread. It grows with every step I take toward my desk.

This kind of feeling makes no sense. It isn’t logical. I can’t analyze it.

Shrugging, I turn on my computer, sign in with my password, and click open my inbox.

IMPORTANT MESSAGE reads one of the subject lines. It’s from an internal sender, but one of our generic accounts, used for testing the system. Odd.

Unable to completely block the weird sense of foreboding in my gut, I click on the email.

There’s a video attachment and it plays automatically, as soon as I open the email.

My dread morphs into horror. This video looks like amateur porn, with bad lighting and a bad angle.

One thing is clear in it, though—Ella. Her face is visible, although the guy fucking her is careful to keep his own face out of the camera.

The guy fucking her isn’t me, and it isn’t Sebastian. I recognize the guy’s wiry frame. I recognize the guy’s shirt. I recognize the fucking background, for fuck’s sake.

Even as the realization hits, I’m already dialing our IT department.

“Mr. Tyler,” one of the techs says. Kristen, by the sound of her voice. “There’s something going to everyone’s email—”

“Shut it the fuck down,” I say. “Now.”

“But people won’t be able to check their messages, it’ll slow down the whole—”

“Shut it down,” I repeat. “We’ll worry about the rest later.”

“And clients?”

“They’ll have to wait for this. Please don’t ask me anything else. Shut it down before it goes to anyone else.”

“Okay,” she says, sounding unsure.

A second later, the screen in front of me disappears. I exhale.

The other line starts ringing immediately—that will be one, or more, of my employees, calling to report that something’s gone wrong with the servers. Or it could be a disgruntled client, upset that the information they usually have at their fingertips, suddenly isn’t there.

What a shit show.

“Can you get rid of the message?” I ask Kristen.

“Yes,” she says. “It’ll take a little while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can people access the message from their personal accounts?” I don’t know shit about technology—which is why it’s so important I hired people like Kristen. People I can trust.

“No, not with everything shut down here.”

“Okay.” I exhale. Fuck. Fuck . I want to kick things.

“Kingston?” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to hang up now, so I can do my job.”

“Right. Call me once it’s done.”

“Will do.”

I end the call. I have to take deep breaths to keep from throwing my phone across the room.

This is not only an embarrassment to my company, to have shit like this circulating, but it’s an incredible violation to Ella.

That’s the worst part. It’s her face on there, her body.

And things like this…if it gets out, it could be floating around on the internet for fucking ever.

I won’t stand for that.

There’s only one person who could be directly responsible for this—and that’s my son, Joel.

But there’s another person who is indirectly responsible—and that’s me, for being a shitty father and not raising him right.

Ella

The phone company’s office is located in a rundown strip mall.

It consists of a single tiny room. Everything in it is beige—from the chairs, to the carpet, to the walls.

The woman behind the counter, though, seems to be making it her personal mission to bring color to the place in the form of her person.

Her lipstick is bright pink, and her pantsuit is an intoxicating shade of teal.

She gives me a commiserating smile as she swipes my debit card through the machine. “I know, it’s a rough time right now. I’m glad you’re able to pay now, though.”

“Me, too,” I say. “Thanks for understanding.”

She passes back my debit card…a debit card which has some freaking money in it, finally, because yes , I have finally gotten paid! I have just enough for rent, my phone and electricity bills, and some groceries, if I’m careful.

Before I leave the phone company, I check that the service is working on my phone. Can I make calls? Can I check my texts?

All seems to be in working order. Thank freaking goodness. While I’m staring at the screen, a text pops up from Joel. What the fuck could he want?

Frowning, I swipe to look at it.

At first, I’m embarrassed—for him. He sent me porn? Gross. Does he think it’ll turn me on or something?

And then I realize—this isn’t porn. This is a sex video.

A sex video of us .

A low moan—my low moan—sounds over my phone’s speakers. Shit. There are people around. They could probably hear that. Thankfully, none of them look my way. If they did hear that moan, they’re politely ignoring it.

I can’t fucking handle this. I click the side button on my phone to turn off the screen.

I want to drop the entire device into the nearest trash can. It feels dirty. My heart feels as if it’s stopped beating entirely. Where did he get that video? Why is he sending it to me?

Cold horror washes through me. Because, of course. He must’ve made that video. I didn’t look at any of the details, but there was that time in his office. I even joked about him making a sex tape, and he pretended to be outraged at the very idea.

The whole while, he was filming us.

A large garbage can sits under the concrete walkway. I stumble over to it and grip the sides.

“Mommy, I think that lady’s going to throw up,” a child says.

I don’t look over, but I hear their footsteps quickening as the mother leads the child away. Smart of her. I’m dirty, filthy, damaged.

Not enough.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

Joel is calling me.

My despair quickly transforms into rage, and I answer the call. “What in the actual fuck , Joel?”

“You don’t like your movie?” he asks.

“No, I don’t. Destroy that. Now.”

“Sure, no problem,” he says, his voice light and easy. He sounds cheerful, even. “Consider it done. Of course, it’s already gone to the entire email list of Tyler Analytics.”

“You…no,” I gasp, my breath freezing in my lungs. “You didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

“Just like you wouldn’t fuck my dad? And you wouldn’t fuck fuckin’ Sebastian?

If you act like a slut, Ella, I’ll out you as a slut.

Stay away from me, stay away from my dad, and stay away from Sebastian.

Should be easy, because I doubt they’ll want to be anywhere near you now.

I know I can’t fucking stand the sight of you. ”

A strangled sound comes from my throat. I don’t know what to say. He couldn’t have really shared that video with everyone in the Tyler building, could he have?

“Joel,” I choke out, “tell me you didn’t actually post it anywhere. Tell me it’s going away right the fuck now—”

“Oh,” he says, “well, actually, I’m not destroying the video. Because if you do come around my dad or Sebastian again, I’ll make sure your ugly ass gets posted to every single porn site I can find.”

“Wait, please—”

But my phone beeps. The call is over.

The sun glints off of dirty windshields in the tiny parking lot. Everything blurs in front of me, from the cars, to the row of stunted palm trees beyond this little strip mall, to the faint white clouds floating merrily past.

I hug my arms across my chest, gripping my phone tightly. The device has already started to vibrate again, but I can’t handle the idea of talking to anyone right now. I can’t even handle the idea of texting.

I turn around and catch sight of my shocked face in the reflection of the phone company’s window, but I spin around just as quickly. I can’t bear to look at myself.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at myself again.