Page 25 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

This is the kind of thing you get used to when you work events like this. It’s part of the gig. A little reminder of my place in the pecking order (I’m still a serf; good to know) that stings my pride more than usual because it’s coming from her in front of him. I open my mouth to lie and tell her we don’t have any more just because I don’t like her snooty attitude, but Ryker beats me to the punch.

“Ella’s not a doll, Rebecca,” he says, a distinct edge to his voice. “She’s also not your personal server. She’s a fine pastry chef. We’re lucky to have her tonight. Ella Richardson, this is Rebecca Black. My, ah, ex-wife.”

His what?

It’s hard to say who’s more astonished. Me or Rebecca. I blame myself for not being better informed about his past. Normally, I’d spend some time online researching anyone I planned to go out with. But with him, I’d made the decision not to because I didn’t want to slide down that slippery slope into the land of obsession. It’s hard enough to keep my feelings for him under control without making things harder for myself by discovering more details about him to occupy my every waking thought.

But now this.

“My mistake,” she says, correctly reading the room and identifying the thundercloud that’s settled into Ryker’s expression. She gives me a closer look, evidently decides I’m not a threat of any sort and shifts her attention back to Ryker. I’m used to this treatment. People give me points for being pretty and having nice hair, but then award an overwhelming number of demerits for my lowly position and uniform. It’s been this way all my life. With this Hamptons set? If you don’t have a pedigree and a platinum credit card, you’re dead to them. “How do you and Ella know each other?”

“She’s the front runner for your old position,” he says without missing a beat. “I’m going to make it a point to keep you two apart so you can’t poison her against me.”

He’s obviously not serious, but I’m not entirely sure he’s joking, either, especially when his attention flickers to me as though he wants to gauge my reaction to this announcement. Too bad I can’t produce much more than a startled what the hell? look.

Rebecca, meanwhile, bursts into laughter. The kind of laughter that gives my shaky self-esteem another pummeling.

“Okay, Ryker,” she says. “I can see I’m not going to get a straight answer out of you. Great party, by the way. Lunch soon?”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Ryker tells her. “My schedule is pretty tight these days.”

“I’ll call you,” she says with a little wave as she walks off again.

“Sorry about that,” Ryker says to me, still glaring after her. “We’re generally on good terms, but she’s a snob from way back.”

“It’s okay,” I say, undone by this protective behavior. God knows Jonas never showed any such tendencies in the four years we were together, even when I wished he would. “I can handle myself with snobs.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t need to when I’m around. I’m happy to run interference.”

“I’m not Taylor Swift,” I say, bemused by this level of ferocity. “You’re not my bodyguard.”

“I’m also not a guy who’s going to stand by and watch while someone’s rude to you,” he says.

I believe him, I realize with a start. I half expect him to go back into that antique-filled house, return with a sword and stand watch over me for the rest of the evening like the knight in shining armor from some fairytale. But I’m no princess. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why he keeps showing up and acting like I am. I also can’t resist the urge to shake him and ask what he thinks he’s doing by pursuing me when he could have anyone.

“I can’t figure out what you’re trying to do here,” I say, being careful to keep my voice down even though bewilderment makes it pitch an octave or so higher. “I’m a little worker bee wearing a polyester uniform and serving treats in your mansion. Where every single room seems to have pieces of furniture that cost more than I make in a year. We’re surrounded by gorgeous women who are all rich enough to have their hair, nails, makeup, dresses and jewelry done special for them. I’ve heard that you and your brothers are worth one billion. That’s billion with a B. And you’re over here at the dessert table trying to hook up with the pastry chef when you were married to a woman like that? I mean… What’s going on, Ryker? Have you even bothered to take a good look at me and think about what you’re doing?”

He stares at me long and hard, unsmiling and unmoving. I get the uneasy feeling that I’ve royally pissed him off.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” he says, his tone frosty. “And since you’re the only woman I think about, maybe you have something that all these other women don’t.”

Utter disbelief gets the best of me, sadly.

“Oh, come on,” I say before I think better of it. “The sex can’t be that good. Not for a guy like you who could have anyone he wants. You’re just mad that I turned you down.”

He recoils as though I’ve slapped him across the face.

His stricken expression makes me feel ashamed of myself. Truly, deeply ashamed. And that’s before he speaks again.

“Wow,” he says quietly. “You don’t think much of me or yourself, do you?”

I warn myself to keep my big, fat mouth shut, but the confession insists on coming anyway.

“You have a way of getting under my skin,” I admit reluctantly. “I want to make sure I manage my expectations.”

He cocks his head, looking as though he wants to catch any lingering sound waves from my voice and make sure he heard right.

“So… You want to know what my expectations are?”

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