Glass Slippers & Jeweled Masques (an Erotic Cinderella Fairytale) (Twisted Fairy Tales) by Denyse Bridger Page A

learned to ignore. Her father had never been one to step in with any argument that involved his wife and his illegitimate daughter. He'd finally acknowledged Cindi a few months after her mother's death, when his own wife had died, and less than a year later, he married again. Alana Denier-Lancourte didn't like sharing her husband's attention. She and her daughters had done all they could to make life hell for Cindi.
    "Madam?"
    The imperious and faintly disdainful voice of the butler prevented Cindi's answer. She looked past Alana to the tall, forbidding presence, who waited patiently.
    Alana's expression darkened further, but she forced a false smile into place and turned to look at Xalvador Deschamps, the faithful friend, companion, and valet to Richard for most of his life.
    "What is it, Deschamps?" Her tone was blade-sharp, and the dislike between the two was palpable.
    "Mrs. Vandermoore has arrived and is waiting in the library."
    That caught Alana's attention and she cast a final glare at Cindi before rushing off to see to her guest.
    "Vandermoore…" Cindi repeated. "Delia Vandermoore?"
    Xalvador's eyebrows climbed and he nodded as he came into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. "Sit down, Miss Cindi. This should not be your job."
    Cindi accepted the coffee and asked him to sit with her. From their vantage point at the edge of the kitchen, seated at the small nook in the corner, they could oversee anything that went on.
    "My job is to make myself scarce as often as possible. Invisible would be perfect, and you well know it, Xalvador."
    "Master Richard wanted more than this for you," Deschamps noted, voice stern.
    "Alana feels the need to run this house now, and it is her right, old friend. In another few months, I will be able to leave. I remind myself of that, often." She smiled. He clearly understood, and she laughed at his bland expression.
    "It can't happen soon enough, Miss Cynthia, not soon enough!
    * * * * *
    It was early evening when the doorbell drew Cindi's attention from the book she'd been immersed in. She was in the library, a room rarely used by her stepsisters or their mother, a place that had become her sanctuary in recent months. Alana emerged from the lounge, her three daughters in tow. Cindi stood in the library doorway and watched as Deschamps handed a large, thick, white parchment envelope to Alana.
    "What is it, mother?" The youngest, Delia, asked.
    Alana walked to a nearby table reserved for mail, picked up the gold letter opener, broke the seal and opened the heavy missive. She read the note, and smiled.
    "It's an invitation for us all," she announced in delight, waving the invitation like it was a coveted prize. "To a Masquerade Ball!"
    Cindi watched, amused and sad in the same moment. Her sisters all tried to take the invitation from their mother. She frowned at them, and as expected, they quickly settled and waited for her. She read the parchment:
    King Alenzo Coranthaos
    will be hosting a Grand Masquerade Ball
    Prince Michel Alexandros Coranthaos,
    heir to the island nation of Coranthis,
    will be in attendance and wishes the presence
    of the lovely women of Lancourte Manor.
    Squeals of delight and excitement resounded in the vast entry hall as the three girls joined hands and danced around, chattering about dresses and princes all at once. Cindi caught her stepmother's eye. Satisfaction gleamed in Alayna's ice-blue eyes.
    "When is the Ball?" Ruella, the middle girl in Alana's trio of daughters, and the quietest by far, tried to peek at the invitation.
    "One week from tomorrow." Alana frowned. "That doesn't give us much time, but we will make it enough. Come girls, in the morning we'll go shopping."
    "A masquerade sounds lovely." Cindi understood she'd been totally forgotten in the excitement.
    "I'm sure it will be, Cynthia," Alana replied, her voice cold. "But you can hardly think royalty would be inviting you to an affair like this?"
    It was the answer she'd expected, but it still hurt