Page 24 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

“See you later.”

We leave the pantry together. She goes her way and I go mine, collecting my tray and leaving the relative sanctuary of the kitchen to head out to the tent again. The idea is for the help like me to blend into the background, not bother the guests and pretend we don’t exist. I do my part, keeping my head down, skirting the tables and trying not to gawk at the flickering lanterns, elegant floral arrangements and general splendor. No sign of Ryker. I remind myself that this is a good thing even as my heart sinks with irrational disappointment. Luckily, there’s also no sign of anyone at the dessert table right now, so I work on adding the latest round of treats and arranging them in a Martha Stewart-worthy display.

That’s when a figure materializes out of nowhere beside me, demonstrating the kind of stealth that goes into the cloaking devices that hide the Klingon ships in Star Trek.

Then comes the voice, the body heat and the unmistakable scent of linen and leather.

“Looks tasty.” Ryker leans in, brushing past my arm as he helps himself to a plate and selects a gateau. “I doubt it’s as good as this chocolate cake I had recently, but I’ll make do. Oh, Ella. Didn’t know that was you. How’s your night going?”

I laugh. That’s the thing about Ryker: it doesn’t matter how many brick walls I erect to keep him out. He just busts right through them with his easygoing charm, like a Labrador retriever bounding through a toddler’s alphabet block tower. It’s a very annoying and disarming habit he has.

“I’m fine,” I say, still arranging. “How’s your—”

“Actually, cancel that.” He turns to face me, remaining firmly in my space as he frowns. “I’m too wounded about your decision to talk to you. So I’m just going to stand here in a moody silence. That way, you can see how good I look in my tux and realize what a mistake you made. I won’t have to lift a finger.”

Our gazes lock as he enjoys the gateau with a throaty hum of approval. I try to keep a handle on my self-control, but it’s not that easy when confronted with this kind of boyish mischief contained in that package. He looks amazing in his slim-cut tuxedo, his hair brushed smooth with just a hint of curl and his eyes gleaming with amusement at my expense.

I shudder dramatically.

“Machiavellian,” I say. “I don’t stand a chance. I’m sure I’m having a similar effect on you in my polyester uniform and necktie.”

His amusement vanishes, replaced by a wave of wistfulness that makes my heart ache. “Stop flirting, Ella. I’m miserable here.”

Naturally, I lapse into sarcasm as a defense mechanism.

“You’re not miserable—”

His jaw tightens. “I’ll label my own feelings. Thanks.”

Flustered, I hastily look down and revert to arranging the desserts. I don’t know what to say to him. I never know how to react to all that intensity.

Worse, Bellamy’s words choose that exact moment to dart back into my brain.

He seems to really like you.

I just think you should give Ryker a chance.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, his voice quiet. “That guy wasn’t right for you. Your ex. Any guy who doesn’t see what a diamond you are isn’t right for you.”

I scoff. What else can I do? He seems so sincere, but there’s no way that a guy like this thinks that a woman like me is anything special.

“A diamond? Are you serious?”

“Don’t I look serious?” he asks.

Yeah, actually, I realize. He does look serious. He looks as though he wants to swallow me whole.

Worse, he makes me want to forget about playing it safe and let him.

Luckily, a new distraction arrives and spares me from having to answer his question.

“Here you are, handsome. I was wondering when I’d run into you tonight. You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

The sound of this honeyed female voice directed at Ryker kicks off a spark of jealousy inside me. The spark quickly turns to a flame when I glance around and see who’s doing the talking. The woman is an Angelina Jolie type with the sultry eyes, the hair, the skin, the lips and the figure. All of it. To make things worse, she’s wearing a sparkly blue dress that caught my eye earlier because it’s so gorgeous and elegant. Worst of all, she leans in to give Ryker a proprietary kiss (on the cheek, but still) and hug while completely ignoring me.

“Rebecca.” He looks startled but quickly recovers as he backs up a step and gives her an appreciative once-over. “You look great. As always.”

“Glad you approve. Do me a favor, doll,” she says, sparing me a glance as she helps herself to the last gateau on my platter. “Run and get me some more of those profiteroles you had earlier. Bring them over to me at my table right there, if you don’t mind.”

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