Page 17 of The Wicked

“Not if we do it properly.”

“Have you always been this nosy?”

“I prefer the term ‘well-informed.’ Knowledge is power, Cinderella. Are you coming?”

“Of course.”

Was it weird, being partners in espionage with a man whose face I’d never seen? Heck, I didn’t even know his name. But if I asked him for personal details, then he’d reciprocate, and I’d told enough lies for tonight.

I froze when he wrapped an arm around my waist, jolted when he stroked a thumb across my hip, but he just leaned in close to whisper, “Relax.”

“What are you doing?”

“Going out to the terrace to eavesdrop is a social faux pas. Going out to the terrace to talk privately with a beautiful woman is perfectly acceptable.”

He…he thought I was beautiful? That was just a line, right?

“Are you saying that you’re a beautiful woman?” I joked.

Charming chuckled. “Now you know my secret, Cinderella.”

“Liar.”

The word popped out before I could stop it, but I’d been pressed up against him on the dance floor too many times to count. Either he carried a zucchini in his pants, or he was all man.

“C’mon, we don’t want to miss the show.”

I leaned into him as he walked us outside again. The temperature had dropped, but Charming gave off more heat than a furnace, which was absolutely the reason I was sweating. What did he look like without the mask? Probably devastatingly handsome if the bits of his face that I could see were any indication. The temptation to find out was almost great enough to make me stay past midnight, but if the twins found out I was here, they’d be furious. And I’d be homeless. They’d already tried to evict me from the pool house once, and only Parker putting his foot down had stopped them.

Lillian was standing by the fountain, hands on her hips as Nico had words. I strained my ears to hear, and Charming sidestepped us closer, one hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“If there’s a problem, you follow procedure,” Nico said. “You report the issue to the duty manager. You donotharangue my staff and make them cry.”

“Your staff are clumsy. That woman trod on Kimberley’s foot.”

“Because another guest pushed into her.”

“So? She was in the way. Servers shouldn’t be mingling with the rest of us.”

“Define ‘us.’”

Oh, that threw her.

“You know…us.”

“You’ll have to clarify—are you being racist or classist?”

Her jaw dropped. Of course, Lillian was both of those things, but she didn’t like when people pointed it out.

“Us.” She gestured around the room. “Paying guests.”

“I understood you were also hired help tonight?”

Lillian drew herself up an inch and puffed out her chest. “I am an event coordinator, not a waitress or a cleaner.”

“Not a very good one, it seems. Why are my library books propping up the DJ’s table?”

“How dare you speak to me that way? Don’t you know who I am?”

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