Page 17 of Cinderella and the Daddy
But it’s a strange kind of peace—the kind that hums under your skin, waiting for the next order to break it.
What's happening in the outside world? Did Charles replace me at the garage? Is he telling customers I'm sick? Do I even have a job to go back to? What about my apartment and my few possessions?
And how long is this going to last? Forever? A month? Another week?
Every time I try to get answers from Luka, he gives me that stone-faced stare and changes the subject. The man is a vault when it comes to information about my future.
I'm in limbo, and I hate it.
Leo is in the study with his tutor. The kid is really smart, but I sense the trauma. It’s like my soul recognizes his pain. His attention span only goes so far before he starts fidgeting and staring out the window longingly.
I don’t know if it’s Luka who came up with the one hour of school and then two hours of playing or art or swimming, but it’s smart. It works for Leo.
I decide to take advantage of some alone time and do a little snooping. If anyone asks—I’mexploring.
Most of the house is open to me now, except for Luka's private office and a few rooms that stay locked. But there are plenty of other spaces I haven't fully investigated.
That's how I find myself rifling through the kitchen junk drawer while the housekeeper is upstairs cleaning rooms.
The drawer looks ordinary—menus, dead batteries, rubber bands stretched to exhaustion. My fingers brush plastic. Slim. Heavy. Too sleek to belong in a kitchen full of crumbs.
A phone. Still warm from whoever ditched it.
This was what I was looking for. Like any good mob boss, I’ve noticed Luka has, like, a million phones. Burners. I’ve seen someof his guards carry around two to three phones. For whatever reason, they’ll discard a phone and get a new one. Like, a lot.
Okay, I know the reason. They don’t want it traced back to them.
I’ve tried before—slipping fingers close, pretending curiosity while his guards watched. They’re always too careful.
But today, luck cracks the door open. And I’m reckless enough to walk straight through.
I slip it into the waistband of my jeans and make sure my t-shirt covers the phone. I rush to one of the three massive fridges and grab a can of soda and one of the sandwiches the cook always leaves. I do my best to look casual as I walk back to my room.
I know there are cameras everywhere. I smile at one of the guards before I slip into my room. I quickly lock the door behind me. Mac lifts his head from the bed in the corner. Luka bought the bed for Mac. He said it was because he didn’t want the dog all over the bed, but I think it’s because he secretly likes Mac.
I drop the sandwich on the bed. I pop the tab and take a long drink from the can.
“Please, let this work.”
My hands shake as I turn it on. The battery is nearly dead, but there's enough juice for one call. Maybe two, if I'm lucky.
I dial Charles's number from memory.
"Hello?" His voice sounds strained, exhausted.
"Charles, it's me. It's Cindy."
"Cindy! Where the hell are you? Are you okay? We've been?—"
"I'm fine," I interrupt, glancing toward the door to make sure I'm still alone. "Listen, I need you to help me. I need you to call the police or?—"
"No!" The word comes out sharp, panicked. "No police. You can't call the police."
"What do you mean I can't?—"
"They'll kill us all if you involve cops. Please, Cindy. You have to help us. We're in so much deeper than I thought. They want more money, and we don't have it. If you could just ask him?—"
"Ask him what?" Rage builds in my chest like a wildfire. "Charles, what the fuck did you do to get me taken?"
