Page 4 of The Billionaire's Masquerade Ball

Chapter 2

Cydner Glass glared at her computer screen, hoping that her face wasn’t visible to the rest of the small office right now. She read and reread the email, shaking her head. They were seriously not letting her go to the masquerade gala she had planned? Then again, she thought bitterly, I shouldn’t be surprised.

When her father died, leaving the control of his boutique event-planning company under the control of her stepmother Gail, Cynder knew that it would be a nightmare. Six months later she was realizing that she vastly underestimated how big of a nightmare.

The staff of Looking Glass Events had always been small, just Cynder, her father, and a few other long-time employees. They only took on a few high-end clients, so it made sense to keep their in-house operation small and contract out to trusted vendors as necessary. They had some big, important clients who booked them again and again for their professionalism and great work.

When Gail took over, she cleaned house, bringing in her two daughters, Eliza and Crystal, and her son Patrick. The three of them had little interest in the business. All of them seemed to treat Looking Glass as simply a means of connecting with the high society they longed to be a part of.

“Your father wanted this place to be like family,” Gail had explained when Cynder protested. “I’m just making changes to reflect his values.”

Values—ha! As far as Cynder could tell, Gail had none. Or maybe it was that her morality existed on a sliding scale that always shifted toward whatever served her best. In this case, it served Gail best to put her lazy son and ladder-climbing daughters on staff. She couldn’t fire Cynder but did her best to make her want to quit—demoting her to the administrative assistant position.

Not only was this a huge pay cut, but it also meant letting Eliza, Crystal, and Patrick boss her around. The girls were spiteful and completely useless at anything other than socializing. Patrick wasn’t just lazy, but sly. Cynder didn’t trust him and whatever secret agenda he seemed to have. He had also taken a personal interest in Cynder, which bothered her almost as it did his mother and stepsisters. Clearly, they thought Patrick deserved better, which was funny considering Cynder never would have considered even going on one date with Patrick. He gave her the creeps.

Cynder reread the email on her screen one last time just in case she misunderstood. Gail, Crystal, Eliza, and Patrick would all attend the party. To “make sure things ran smoothly,” Gail said. Which translated to connecting with as many high-rollers as possible, plus the billionaire CEO putting on the gala. Gail probably took this client with the sole intention of marrying off one of her daughters to a billionaire. They’d probably have no luck there. Even Cynder had heard about Xander Callahan, billionaire playboy.

It made no sense. Without Cynder running point, the whole thing would be a disaster. She and her father had always been hands-on for events. They had a very short list of vendors they trusted. Rather than dressing in all black to avoid notice the way most event planners did, her father had insisted that they dress for the clients. They spent as much time working the events out front, indistinguishable from the rest of the guests. If the dress was black tie, her father wore a tux and Cynder donned a gown. They blended with the guests, all the while making sure everything worked perfectly. Their personal touch and unique style had been one of the things that set Looking Glass apart.

Cynder hated to see the company she and her father built go down in flames, but it seemed inevitable at this point. What was one more loss? This year had been filled with them. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears and Cynder wished that she had the ability to mask her emotions better. But she cried at the slightest thing, whether a greeting-card commercial or seeing someone else get hurt. After losing her father, it had only gotten worse, like the tears were constantly at the surface, just waiting for the smallest reason to fall.

If they messed up this gala, it might be the end of the company. One word from Xander Callahan, a billionaire CEO hosting a masquerade gala, and no one would hire them again. Cynder had spent the last month carefully planning, despite having to work around Eliza, Crystal, and Patrick’s inexperience. She almost preferred it when they didn’t try to help at all.

If this was a disaster, at least it would be Gail’s children with their necks on the line. She hated the thought of failing, though, especially for a charity event. The Foundation was likely just to make Xander look good—that seemed to be the case with most wealthy people who founded nonprofits. It was more about tax breaks than actually serving. Everything she read about the charity seemed legitimate. Still, it was hard to see so much money being thrown into the event. The amount they were paying for one night could probably fund the charity for a year.

Cynder sighed. Her father would have hated the cynicism that seemed to have grown only stronger in the absence of his positive optimism. She felt pained just thinking about how much she had changed since his death. He would be so disappointed in her. But then, she was disappointed in him. As much as she missed him, she was furious with his decision to leave almost everything to Gail, including the company Cynder had hoped to run herself one day.

She pulled out her phone to text Lucy.

Cynder:You can forget about my dress. I was politely un-invited to the masquerade ball by my stepmonster.

Lucy:WHAT

Lucy:Here’s what I don’t get. How did your dad ever marry this woman? He was the best. And she’s clearly the WORST.

Cynder blinked back tears. Six months after her father’s heart attack and she still had moments every day where she felt the loss like it was new. Sometimes she could talk about him and keep it together, but then it was like the wall protecting her heart would lower just long enough for the grief to wash over her. Grief and anger. The way he left things left Cynder struggling with a sense of betrayal that made the grief even more difficult.

It had been just the two of them since her mother died of cancer when Cynder was only five. Her father had been incredible as a single dad, managing to build his business into a well-respected company all while keeping Cynder the priority. She had worked alongside him from the time she was in middle school. He had been preparing her to take over for him. Until he met Gail.

Cynder had been after him to date for years, but she knew the moment she met Gail that she was trouble. Not wanting to drive a wedge between herself and her dad, Cynder stood by and watched him date and then marry Gail. He had seemed happy when he died, but Cynder felt sure that he wouldn’t be if he saw what Gail had done since his death.

Cynder clutched the edge of her desk, trying to steady her breathing. Closing her eyes, she willed the tears to dry up. Though it still happened daily, these emotional moments about her father were much quicker now. Within a minute or two, her eyes were clear. She went back to texting.

Cynder:I know, right? It’s like she cast a spell on him. I’ve seen her at work. She’s good. Surprised she wasn’t an actress instead of a simple gold-digger. Anyway, I’m disappointed I won’t be able to wear the dress.

Lucy:You could always crash the ball.

Cynder:Not going to happen.

Lucy:We’ll see.

Cynder groaned. This was going to be a battle. Lucy was a designer and had been working on Cynder’s gown for the last month. It would serve double-duty: after the gala, it would go into the shop where Lucy worked as the sample. She was incredibly talented, but just getting started in a custom dress shop. It made Cynder nervous to think about not spilling something on a borrowed dress, but Lucy had insisted.

“No one will actually buy the exact dress,” Lucy had told her. “That’s why it’s a sample. Everything is made to order. These are just there for people to try on. Consider yourself my model and my muse. You’re doing me a favor!”

“I’ll never understand the way rich people live,” Cynder said. “Whole dresses that are meant to try on, never to be worn? That seems like such waste.”

“Hey, those rich people pay my bills and yours, so don’t bite the hand that feeds. Er, the hand that dresses,” Lucy had said.

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