Page 14 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

Aunt Gilda’s jaw drops. “You did? He’s back in the city? Thought he was in San Fran.”

“He was. That’s where he made his fortune.”

“He had the fortune your father left him,” she says, that familiar edge of bitterness creeping into her voice. She was never a fan of my father and the way he treated my mother. “I’d call that a healthy head start.”

“Yeah, well, now he’s a billionaire, or close to it. I did a little online reading about him last night.”

“So why’s he back here?”

“I don’t know all the details, but he said his mother is sick,” I say.

“That witch,” she says, her expression souring even further. “All the nastiness has probably eaten her from the inside out. She’s probably got battery acid for blood at this point. She was a nightmare to my sister, your mother. You know that. She was a nightmare to you.”

“In fairness, she was never going to be a fan of her husband’s mistress and love child,” I say.

“You’re defending her now?”

“I’m just saying that all that was a long time ago. My mother and father have both been dead for years—”

“And that witch prevented his estate from making any provision for you when he dropped dead when you were only seven, didn’t she?”

“My father didn’t bother making any provision for me in his will,” I remind her.

“Details.” She flaps a hand. “She could have given you and your mother a token. When she kicked you both out of your apartment on two weeks’ notice.”

“It was my father’s apartment. Which went to his wife when he died.”

“Still.”

“Look,” I say impatiently, tired of covering this same old ground with her. On top of everything else, she harbors bad feelings because my father’s sudden death led to her having to help my mother financially and with me. And I understand all that. I just don’t want to keep rehashing it. “It’s all water under the bridge at this point. I don’t wish her any ill will.”

“I do,” she mutters. “But I’m sure God will even the score when the time comes.”

“Whatever. I turned out fine in the end without my father. Or his money.”

“Well, you had to, didn’t you? Liam inherited it all.”

“Let’s move on, Aunt Gilda.”

This suggestion, naturally, gets ignored.

“And you’re not fine,” she says. “You don’t trust men. You don’t give them a chance after Jonas dumped you. You dabble with online dating, but you don’t give men a real chance. You’ll never get married at this rate. I get more action from online dating than you do, and I’m old and cranky.”

“Hmm,” I say, quickly turning away to hide my sudden catastrophic blush. You can’t shed a single drop of blood in these shark-infested waters.

Too late.

“What do you mean, hmm?” she says, her keen interest sharpening. “Something’s going on, isn’t it?”

“Again: I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice pitching an octave too high.

“You know what I think?” A wicked glimmer of amusement slides into Aunt Gilda’s expression. “I think there’s a man. You met someone over the weekend. I think that’s your issue. I think something’s going on and you don’t want to spill.”

The abrupt change of topic works on me like roach spray, forcing me to scatter.

“Whoops, look at the time,” I say, glancing at the wall clock as my face heats up even further. “Time for my break. I’ll be in the back getting tea.”

“You do that,” she says dryly, watching me scurry off.

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