The Cinderella Arrangement Read online

  “Yes, sorry. As I was saying…”

  I walked toward the bathroom with my toiletry bag in my hand and felt his eyes following me back. I smirked to myself in the mirror as I applied my makeup.

  “Ahem.”

  The eyeliner flew as a face materialized in the mirror. I glanced to my right and screamed, knocking several tins of makeup off the sink. Luke was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a deep frown.

  “What are you doing?” I shrieked as I bent over to pick them up. “I could have been naked!”

  “Yes, how horrible that would be,” he drawled.

  I didn’t like the accusatory stare in his eyes or the aggressive way he blocked my exit.

  “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  A small shock rippled through my body.

  He thinks I’m up to something?

  I looked around the room, searching for evidence. Had I used his hair products against his permission? Bewildered, I threw my hands up. “I don't understand what you’re—”

  “If you get me to do something with you, you could sue for sexual harassment.”

  The accusation stunned me for a moment, then I threw back my head and laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. Luke flinched at my laughter echoing in the tiled room. “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. You’re already paying me ten grand a month. Why would I get greedy?”

  Still shaking, I shook my head and returned to the mirror. Did he believe that I had an ulterior motive?

  “You walked through the apartment half-naked. Don’t tell me you didn’t expect me to notice that.”

  He was right. But I didn’t do it so I could screw him over!

  “Who was the one who did it first?”

  Now it was his turn to look surprised. His hand flew to his hair. “What? I didn’t—”

  I knew I should drop it, but I didn’t. “You’ve been playing with me. Admit it. You like the attention.”

  “That’s not true,” he said with an edge in his voice.

  "There weren't any reporters on that airplane."

  “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the lines can become a little blurred for me.”

  “Well, me too.” My cheeks flamed again, and I felt frustrated with how little control I had over my body. “What do we do about it?”

  "It has to stop."

  "You do know I'm broke, right? There's no way I could sue you, even if I wanted to."

  “I almost believe it when you say that.”

  Even with his sad smile, I couldn’t get over how handsome he looked. I longed to run my fingers through his thick dark hair and kiss that vein that jumped in his throat. I put my makeup down and faced him.

  “Isn’t it exhausting to constantly be on guard?”

  “Jessica, I’ve been hurt so many times by people I thought I trusted. Almost everyone in my life has sold a story about me to the press.”

  "I would never do that."

  "Well, you legally can't."

  I walked closer to him. "You've done a huge favor for me. I'd never do anything to harm you."

  He looked like he wanted to believe me, but he couldn't. I couldn’t hold it against him even though it stung. I didn’t know what it was like to be him.

  “Can I ask you something personal?” Without waiting for a response, I asked it anyways: “Are you lonely?”

  He opened his mouth and closed it. He didn’t have to answer; I saw the truth in his eyes.

  “Yes,” he said. “I suppose I’ve always been.”

  Me too.

  I wanted to reach forward and touch him, but Luke backed from the doorway and shut the door.

  “Can we use the Tube?”

  He looked at me with suppressed annoyance. “We’ll be mobbed if we use the Tube.”

  “No, we won’t!”

  We were already being followed by a silent, creepy group of paparazzi. I held Luke’s hand and walked down the streets of London. The sky looked like a thick gray blanket that dropped icy sheets of rain on our heads. Luke did his best to keep us dry with his umbrella. The rain didn’t dampen my spirits.

  “Oh, come on. Let’s just use it once.” I was dying to experience the city like a real Londoner.

  Luke sighed in resignation. “Well, fine.”

  We descended the steps into the Piccadilly tube station. Luke shook change out of his pocket and dumped it into the ticket machine. I took one of the two pieces of paper it spat out, and then walked through the barrier to the trains. Luke glanced at the tube map before pulling me to the right toward the Bakerloo line.

  A slew of tourists and people commuting to work crowded the brick-lined underground. Luke smiled to himself as he bounced on his soles.

  “What is it?”

  He shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing, this just brings back memories.”

  Across the station, a man photographed us. I leaned against Luke, who wrapped his arm around my waist. I laid my head against his chest and smiled as he kissed me.

  “Later tonight, I might meet up with an old friend. You’re welcome to come.”

  An old friend? Sounds interesting.

  “Yeah, I’d like to.” I turned my face toward his voice and caught his bottom lip. He squeezed my back so that my tits were flattened against his chest and I could feel his steady heartbeat while mine raced. I felt the irritating rush of heat in my chest and I couldn’t understand how he could remain so calm. We broke our faces apart, but Luke still held me against him, looking at me as though I was the only girl in the universe.

  “Does he know about me?”

  “He knows that I’m dating someone. I have told no one about our arrangement, and I plan on keeping it that way.”

  A rush of wind soared through the tunnel, whipping my hair around. I unglued myself from Luke’s chest, and we walked over a line of yellow that demanded we Mind The Gap. The train was packed with people and we were sandwiched together. I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the discomfort on Luke’s face.

  “Not used to being pressed up against the common folk, are you?”

  He laughed and glanced around at the people surrounding us. “Jessica,” he whispered. “Someone might hear.”

  “No one heard me.”

  “It’s awkward. I’m not used to public transport.”

  “I thought you said you took the metro all the time as a kid.”

  “That was then.”

  Luke held onto the rail with his sleeves to avoid the layer of germs coating it.

  “Well, consider it payback for laughing at me on the airplane.”

  We transferred to another line and arrived at the Westminster station. When we climbed out, Big Ben stood right in front of me like a giant. Even in the overcast weather, the tower shined in a dark gold brilliance. I craned my neck to look at the black hands sitting on a white circle surrounded by a golden ring. The parliament building wrapped around Big Ben. We walked down the street and over the bridge, weaving around tourists to look down at the River Thames snaking through the city. A huge Ferris wheel was northeast of us. Luke leaned over and watched my fascination with a happy look on his face.

  “That’s the London Eye,” he said, pointing to the wheel.

  “It’s incredible.”

  There was nothing like this where I had grown up. We walked toward Big Ben, the snarl of traffic shuddering down the streets, the red double decker busses groaning as they passed us. Luke grabbed my arm and pulled me back when I almost ran into oncoming traffic. Out of habit, I looked left instead of right.

  “Close call.”

  I recognized some of the statues in the Parliament Square. Then I noticed a long line of people outside one building. A large gothic church stood in front of the square with three bold arches covering the doors. The one in the middle was the largest, and it was where the line formed. “Is that—?”

  “Westminster Abbey? Yes. Do you want to go inside?”

  I rubbed my hands together and tried
to conceal how much I wanted to go. “Well, only if you don’t mind.”

  He rolled his eyes at me and pulled my hand. “C’mon.”

  Inside the abbey were vaulted ceilings and high arches with so much detail carved into the stone that I could stare at them for hours. Every surface was covered with marble busts and memorials. Even the floor had them. I squealed in delight when I recognized an author name from my English classes.

  “Look—Charles Dickens!”

  Luke leaned over and nodded. “Cool,” he said in a tone of voice that suggested boredom instead of fascination. Decorated chapels dedicated to members of royalty were tucked into the corners of the abbey.

  “You don’t like this stuff, do you?”

  He shrugged as we walked around the choir. “It’s all right. I’ve seen it all before—many times on school trips. Thrill-seeking is more my thing, like hang-gliding, parasailing, white-water rafting, steeplechase.”

  I did none of those things. “What if we went to a soccer match?”

  Luke’s face lit up. “Now, you’re talking.”

  I used to spend my summers with Natalie on the same recreational soccer team. Her parents paid for the annual fee because there was no way in hell my foster parents would have. “I used to play when I was younger. I miss it.”

  “Well, we should see a match, then. I’ll ask my friend if he would like to join us.” He had already opened his phone and was searching.

  Wow. I guess we have one thing in common. I praised myself for bringing it up.

  I watched as his fingers moved over his smart phone.

  “There’s a match today at Boleyn Ground. It’s West Ham versus Tottenham Hotspur. Oh my God, we have to see it.”

  “Can you get tickets?”

  He looked at me and smiled as if I had made a joke.

  Well, that answers that.

  As we walked out of Westminster Abbey, Luke drummed his fingers over the black screen. “Damn. More meetings this afternoon. I’m sure I’ll be able to make it."

  "We don't have to go."

  "No way. I’ll leave early if I have to. I haven’t been to a football match in ages.”

  Luke rubbed his hands together with a manic grin on his face. It was nice to see a gleam of excitement in his eyes instead of his mask of polite amusement. I didn’t argue as Luke called a cab to bring him to work, giving the driver explicit directions to take me wherever I wanted.

  “The game starts at three o’clock. Best to be there at two-thirty. I’ll call and send a car wherever you are.”

  He leaned across the seats and his lips brushed my cheek. When he pulled away, his smile was full of so much warmth that my breath caught in my throat.

  “Have a good day, Jessica.”

  Luke slid out of the car and gave me a small wave through the window. As soon as he had left the car, I felt his absence like a hole in my stomach. I was still looking out when the driver cleared his throat. He was staring at me through the rear-view mirror.

  “Uh—can you take me to the Tower of London?”

  Breathless, I stepped out of the cab and searched the throng of people for Luke. Hundreds wore the West Ham colors of deep red-purple and blue stood in several security lines outside the stadium. The driver had assured me that Luke would be nearby. At last, I looked through a group of red and blue-clad men with rosettes attached to their shirts and recognized his profile. Luke’s dark hard tilted back with laughter. A good-looking man in his twenties stood beside him, his shoulders bent forward and shaking with mirth.

  This must be the friend who he was talking about. As if he had heard my thoughts, the man’s eyes rested on me and he gave me a slight nod. Luke turned on the spot and gave me a brilliant smile. I hitched a grin and walked toward him.

  “There you are, darling.”

  Darling? I laughed despite myself as Luke swept me in his arms and his mouth sealed my lips in a brief but heated kiss. For a moment, it made me feel like he missed me. He pulled away and slid his arm over my shoulders.

  Oh right, he’s acting again.

  I gathered up my resolve and prepared myself to talk in a high-pitched voice that most girls seemed to have when reunited with their boyfriends.

  “Did you enjoy the tower?” he asked as he brought me closer to his friend.

  “Yes, it was good."

  "Just good?"

  I was disappointed. It was stripped bare of its original furnishings and the replacements didn’t look very authentic. It was like visiting Disneyland, but I had a nice walk along London Bridge.

  “Jessica, this is my friend Brandon I was talking to you about. Brandon this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

  Brandon made a muddled first impression. Like Luke, the trappings of great wealth weren’t lost on him: the Prada glasses, the gleaming watch on his wrist, his Italian leather shoes. He wasn’t as handsome or poised, but he had an air of polished dignity that intimidated me. His eyes met mine in a cool, unflinching gaze. From the way he looked at me, it was almost as if he didn’t care for me. No, it wasn’t that. Maybe it was a lack of trust.

  “It’s a pleasure.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Are you a big football fan?”

  I gave him a small shrug. “A little. I used to play when I was younger.” I retreated into Luke’s comforting embrace and smiled at Brandon. “You can’t go to England without seeing a football match, right?”

  He nodded, his eyes still refusing to let go of me. “Too right,” he said in a thick accent. Glancing at his watch, he made a comical sound. “Ah! Kick off is in ten minutes. Let’s get to our seats.”

  I could feel Luke’s excitement through my body as he stood behind me in the line, his hands ever so slightly moving up the curve of my hips. It was so much more electrifying than a kiss. He rubbed into my flesh in small, hard circles. The paparazzi stood nearby, clicking away at us as I turned around in his arms to lay my head over his chest. I didn’t do it because I wanted to give them a show; I wanted to quiet the desire stirring in my core.

  As we walked through security and made our way through the stadium buzzing from thousands of horns, it was apparent that Luke arranged for front row seats. A sprinkling of navy-blue Tottenham supporters were scattered among the hundreds of West Ham rosettes, flags, and checkered banners. I reeled back from the fevered energy flowing from the West Ham fans, taken aback by their intense, almost violent screaming. After a few minutes, the yelling stopped, and I felt their cheers soaring through me when we took out seats and looked across the green field.

  “Would you like a drink, Jessica?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’ll get us a few pints.”

  “Thanks mate.”

  I looked at Luke. His accent changed from American to British. He raised his eyebrow at me. “What?”

  “Nothing, mate” I ribbed, smiling.

  He smirked back.

  Brandon returned with three sopping mugs of dark beer and set one down in front of me.

  I curled my fingers around the cold plastic and brought the frothy rim to my mouth. The beer was thick and full of complex flavors. I smacked my lips in appreciation and wished I had something sweet to contrast the bitterness.

  “The crowd seems crazy.”

  A group of West Ham supporters behind our row slurred a song about bubbles.

  “West Ham and Tottenham Hotspur have a huge rivalry. It will be mad.” Brandon smiled at Luke. “Remember that time in Liverpool? They kicked you out of the stadium.”

  Luke flushed a bright magenta as he took a sip from his beer. “Yeah.”

  I leaned in closer, enjoying the embarrassment shining on his face. “What did you do?”

  Brandon spoke before Luke could get a word in. “He beat up a couple people.”

  “They deserved it.”

  How interesting. “I never would have guessed you could be such a hooligan.”

  Luke gave me a roguish wink.

  The fans beh
ind me continued to sing. “Forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air.”

  One of them kicked the back of my seat and my beer slopped all over my hands. Luke turned around in his seat to glare at them but I took his hand and squeezed it.

  “Sorry, love.” The man who had kicked my seat gave me a toothy grin, his cheeks ruddy from alcohol.

  “It’s cool,” I said as I wiped my hand on the wall.

  His red-rimmed eyes scanned my clothes and narrowed in suspicion. “Who are you supporting?”

  I suddenly knew that they were drunk enough to fight anyone who wasn’t rooting for their team. “West Ham,” I said before others could intervene.

  “Good.” The fan leaned back into his seat and they resumed the team song.

  Brandon’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Like we’d say anything different surrounded by this lot.”

  At last, the players spilled over the field, and the red and blue fans stood up in unison, letting out earsplitting shrieks and cheers. I clapped my hands over my ears as the fan behind me screamed encouragement to West Man and shouted filthy obscenities to the black and white Tottenham players.

  “Sod off, you fucking cunts!”

  The man who had kicked my chair was standing on his seat, gesticulating as he bellowed insults. Taken aback, I looked at Luke and Brandon, who didn’t seemed perturbed by the filth streaming out of his mouth.

  Maybe it’s a British thing.

  West Ham kicked off and the fast-paced game began. Within the first five minutes, the Tottenham forwards had passed the ball through West Ham’s defense. The right defense sprinted back toward the forward—he was inside the goalie box and everyone around me was screaming, even Luke was bellowing something intelligible. And then the Tottenham forward stumbled forward and tripped over the West Ham defense’s leg, foiling what could have been a goal.

  The stands were in an uproar as the referee blasted his whistle and ripped out a bright red card, which he held up high. The reaction from the stands was downright frightening. Thousands of them stood up to hurl insults at the referee as the player argued with him. I was close enough to see the veins popping out from his neck.