Page 13 of The Wicked

“You! Yes, you—Cinderella. Where’s my phone?”

Quickly, I blocked her view of the water with my puffy skirt and borrowed my mom’s Texas drawl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My phone is missing, and Malinda saw someone dressed as Cinderella pick it up.”

Crap on a cracker, I had roughly three seconds before Kayleigh recognised me. I opened my mouth to stutter a reply, but Charming got there first.

“There are at least three other Cinderellas here tonight, plus two Elsas, who look kind of similar, don’t you think? When did your phone go missing?”

Charming sounded so cool, so self-assured that Kayleigh hesitated. “Uh, maybe fifteen minutes ago?”

“Then you have the wrong woman—I’ve been talking with this Cinderella for the past half hour. Why don’t you try the buffet? Most people are hanging out there.”

She backed away, delightfully unsure, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Pheeeeeew. But that left me with a new problem, and I waited until Kayleigh had disappeared into the ballroom before tackling it.

Prince Charming.

Why did he keep appearing wherever I went?

“Is that Kayleigh’s phone?” he asked, motioning toward the water.

“Uh, maybe? I swear I was just gonna post an outtake to her Insta and then give it back.”

He nodded approvingly. “Good plan.”

“Why did you cover for me?”

“Because the Baldwin twins are a pain in everyone’s ass. She should put the phone down for a while and go touch grass.” He glanced toward the ballroom. “Along with most of the other folks in there.”

“If you don’t like them, then why did you come?”

“As a favour.”

“To who?”

“To my father. I’m supposed to make sure my little brother doesn’t do anything dumb. Which is…”—he sighed—“easier said than done.”

“Where is he now?”

“Inside with his girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes. “The one trying to eat cake in a Power Ranger mask.”

The pink Power Ranger who was hanging out with Hadley? Okay, Charming was right: Hadley was notorious for doing dumb things, dumb things that often ended up on the internet, and it was entirely possible that her lack of judgment was contagious.

“So shouldn’t you be inside, keeping an eye on him?”

“Absolutely. We can do that from the dance floor.”

I’m sorry, what?

“We?”

“My brother doesn’t know I’m here. It’s your turn to be my cover story, Cinderella.”

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m not dancing.”

Charming held out a hand, and darn, that smile was intoxicating. My heart thudded against my ribcage as I tried to come up with a way to get out of this new predicament.

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