Page 52 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

“Not just that. About my father’s sudden death. The way it caused a reversal of fortune for me and my mother.”

“Ah. Tell me about it.”

I reach for my wine, take a fortifying sip, then finish it off, just to be sure.

Without a word, he gets up, grabs the wine and gives me a refill before resuming his seat.

“Thanks,” I say before sipping again.

“That bad, eh? Want me to go first? Will that make it easier if I remind you that you’re not the only one with a screwed-up family history?”

This perks me right up. I’ve spent so much time wallowing in my own shame that it rarely occurs to me that other people may also have skeletons clanking around in their closets. Especially someone as seemingly perfect as Ryker. Not that I think he’s perfect, mind you, but if he’s not, then who the hell is?

“Yeah, actually.”

“Fine. My mother left my father for his best friend. Who was richer. I told you this already. I was only about three at the time, so I don’t remember much about it. But it was a big tabloid thing. Custody battle. My brothers had the worst of it. Then she was killed in a car accident before we reconciled. My father remarried. My stepmother was great. But…” To my astonishment, his hesitation turns into a slight chin wobble as he tries to get his sudden emotions under control. Not knowing what else to do, I reach for his hand. But he pulls back, blowing out a breath and rubbing his hands over his thighs instead.

I respect his boundary. I don’t like it, not when I can see how hurt he is by this topic and I would dearly love to give him a hug, but I respect it.

“Ryker. You don’t have to—”

“Yeah,” he says, then hastily clears his throat. “I do. I’m setting the example. We can tell each other anything. Talk about anything. So, anyway… I don’t really remember my mother, but it’s like I remember the imprint of where she was. There’s an ache. And her not being here makes everything into a what-if. Out of the blue. What if my mom had, I don’t know, wanted me to go to some other college? What if she was here for Christmas? What if she had advice for me about dealing with my brothers? What if she didn’t like the way I turned out? I know it’s stupid. I know there are no answers. But that’s my mom story. Just so you know.”

“Thanks for telling me,” I say, still managing to keep my hands to myself via a Herculean effort. “I never knew her, but I’m going to go way out on a limb and assume she’d be proud of you.”

He presses his lips together and shrugs. “I hope you’re right. Anyway. You don’t have to tell me about your family right now if you don’t want to. No pressure. This was supposed to be a fun summer date night so you can practice your flirting skills.”

“Well, you ruined that with your temper tantrum about the restaurant, didn’t you?”

We both laugh. I’m so moved by the trust and vulnerability that he’s just demonstrated that it seems only natural to tell him a bit more about my life.

My smile fades.

“I’ve told you some of this before. My father set my mother up in a nice apartment, but he didn’t care enough about us to leave us, I don’t know, a life insurance policy or money in his will to make sure we were provided for. He left it all to his real family. To my brother and his mother. Who, by the way, refused to let me and my mother attend his funeral.”

“Jesus,” he says.

“It’s not that I even blame her. My mother ruined her marriage. She was my father’s mistress. I don’t want you to think this is all about me not being rich now like my brother is. It’s just… My father didn’t even care enough about me to put his name on my birth certificate. Richardson is my mother’s name. He used to call me Daddy’s little princess. How corny is that? Used to bring me little bouquets of flowers and dress-up shoes and little ballerina outfits when he visited the apartment, but none of it was real. It was all a show. It’s like we were shadow people. A shadow family. Because he was ashamed of us.”

“Ella…”

“So when he died, we had nothing. And I mean nothing. My mother was totally unprepared. She’d built her entire life around this guy who’d left her completely in the lurch. She had nothing to show for all the years she dedicated to being there in the apartment and looking pretty with dinner on the table when my father decided to show up.”

“She had you.”

I scoff. “I’m sure that helped pay the bills. His wife kicked us out of the apartment. It was a really nice apartment. We had to live with Aunt Gilda for a while because my mom didn’t have first and last month’s rent. After a few months she scraped the money together for a terrible apartment. Then I became the charity scholarship kid at my private school. Which is better than being kicked out, I guess, but it sure gave the other kids a lot to talk about. I won’t even get into the bullying when it got out that she’d started exotic dancing. Then I became the need-based scholarship student at cooking school—”

“You worked your way into that school, Ella. You earned it.”

“—and my ex’s parents weren’t big fans of my clothes or my background or my address. Looking back, I don’t think I was ever a serious contender for Jonas to marry me. And everyone knew that but me.”

His expression turns stony. “I was with you until then. But don’t expect me to be sad that some loser who never deserved you anyway isn’t married to you right now.”

“You have to say that,” I say with a tired smile. “You want to get laid later.”

“Or maybe I have to say it because it’s true,” he says, hitting me with that unwavering gaze.

I don’t take compliments well, so I wave this one away.

---