Page 7 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

Then one by one, his security team members returned after chasing the guests who’d left after the shooting. None of those guests matched the description Vanya Patel gave.

Once the police concluded their interviews and most of the guests left, Tex started looking for the woman he knew only as Cinderella. His jacket carried traces of her scent, and somehow that brought his loss to life. Even though his employees and a few lingering guests kept interrupting, his thoughts continually returned to her.

An hour later, resisting the urge to grind his teeth, he rubbed his temples and pushed cold fingers against the throb of a sleepless night. Morning’s soft glow filtered through magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows of a room opulent enough to belong in a royal palace.

How could she be gone like a beautiful dream disappearing in the morning? Nobody knew who she was. And for the first time since he’d known her, his ever-efficient assistant Jennifer looked puzzled. She’d even taken off her glasses twice and then searched for them while they were on her head.

He watched the camera footage and called the person on the invitation she’d shown to get in, Ms. Natalie Mueller, who he recalled meeting during last year’s ball.

In response, he received lots of coughs and the reassurance she hadn’t visited the charity ball due to being sick.

At least, his security team found Cinderella’s high-heeled lavender-satin shoe with a tiny golden clasp in the alley.

He stared at the sparkling representative of female footwear on the table, unfamiliar feelings riling him. Sure, his curiosity was piqued, but there was more to it. There was much more to this woman than met the eye. He sensed it. Not that his eye could meet much because of the mask. The shoe wasn’t made of glass, but his hopes for this to end differently apparently were. Now, they were shattered.

In true Cinderella fairytale fashion, all the beautiful stranger left him with was a shoe.

Chapter Three

RACHEL WINCED AS SHEdrove away in her nondescript mouse-gray compact. Its only call for attention were the scratches on its side. It wasn’t a pumpkin, of course. But it seemed as insignificant as one when compared to the flashy luxury cars other guests had come in, the modern equivalent of royal carriages.

Dressed like a servant—her hair pulled back in a commonplace bun, her makeup, artificial nails, and of course jewelry gone—she drove a cheap beater, and people at the gate didn’t seem to pay attention. Big mistake, but it worked in her favor.

Once outside the gate, she had her hands-free phone connect her to the client. “Ms. Mueller?”

“Rachel! How did it go?”

“I’ve just left the gala.” No need to say she left her shoe behind, right? “Um, the evening was... interesting. You can say I knocked Tex off his feet, though.” She updated the client on the night’s events, including, as Ms. Mueller had requested, a list of everyone Tex spoke to and danced with.

Oddly, her client seemed excited to hear there’d been a theft, but disappointed the thief couldn’t have been Tex, as he was nowhere near the victim. Not Rachel’s job to wonder why Ms. Mueller asked her to watch Tex so closely at the ball, only to do as she was asked. But still, she did wonder.

“I suppose I should have told them the thief in the expensive tuxedo could’ve changed into a waiter’s uniform or pretended to be some other staff, as well, shouldn’t I have?”

“Nonsense. That’s someone else’s job. You were there on a mission for me and did well not to attract attention—ahem, I mean more attention than you had to.”

“Right, and meddling in someone else’s job, even with the best intentions, is rarely met with gratitude.”

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