Cindy swallowed a sob at the tenderness she saw in his eyes. “Thorne, please…don’t…”
His mouth stopped her. He was kissing her again until her senses spun at breakneck speed. There was no question of refusing herself the luxury of his touch. Nor was there any question of disillusioning him. Soon enough he’d learn the truth. Soon enough he’d know she wasn’t who she pretended to be. She was no princess. Her family name wasn’t going to gladden any banker’s heart.
“I’d be honored to meet your family,” she finally said.
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Whenever you wish.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, knowing there’d be no tomorrows for them.
They had so little time together. She couldn’t ruin everything now. Maybe it was wrong not to tell him she was the janitorial worker who cleaned his office and that she had no intention of embarrassing him in front of his family. But it couldn’t be any more wrong than crashing the party and seeking out Thorndike Prince in the first place.
The carriage driver cleared his throat. Irritated, Thorne broke away from Cindy and saw that they’d completed the circle and were back.
“Shall we go around again?” On this trip, he’d gotten her to agree to meet his family. He’d seen the fear in her eyes and realized how much the thought had intimidated her. Yet she’d agreed. He yearned to hold her and to assure her that he’d never leave her, that with a little time and patience his family would be as impressed with her as he was.
Somewhere in the distance church bells began to chime. Cindy paused, counting the tones. “Midnight!” she cried, her heart beating frantically. “It’s midnight. I’ve…I’ve got to go. I’m sorry…so sorry.” She stood, and with the driver’s help climbed down from the carriage.
“Cindy.” Thorne reached out for her, but she was already rushing away. He ran after her. “I’ll take you home. Don’t worry about missing your ride—I’ll see you safely home.”
Tears filled her eyes as she handed him his coat and paused to throw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. “You don’t understand.”
She was right about that, Thorne mused. She looked stricken—frightened and so unhappy that he longed to ease whatever pain she was suffering from.
“It was the most wonderful night of my life. I’ll…remember it, and I’ll always…always remember you.”
“You won’t get a chance to forget me.” He tried to keep her with him, but she whirled around and picked up her skirts, taking off as though there were demons in wild pursuit.
Bewildered, Thorne watched her race into traffic. She’d crossed the busy street and was halfway down the sidewalk when she turned abruptly. “Thank you,” she yelled, raising her hand to wave. “Thank you for making my dreams come true.” She covered her mouth with her hand, and even from this far away Thorne could see that she was weeping. She ran in earnest then, sprinting to the corner. The instant she reached it a long black limousine pulled up. As if by magic, the door opened and Cindy slid inside. The limo was gone before Thorne could react.
“Sir.”
For a moment, Thorne didn’t respond.
“She dropped this.” The carriage driver handed Thorne a pearl comb.
The older man in the black top hat stared at Thorne. “Had to be home by midnight, did she?”
“Yes,” Thorne answered without looking at him.
“Sounds like Cinderella.”
“That’s who she said she was.”
The driver chuckled. “Then you must be Prince Charming.”
Thorne still didn’t move. “I am.”
Apparently the carriage driver found that even more amusing. “Sure, fella. And I’m Donald Trump.”
Chapter 4
The first thing Thorne thought about when he woke early Sunday morning was Cindy. He’d drifted into a deep, restful sleep, picturing her lovely face, and he woke cursing himself for not getting her phone number. Being forced to wait a whole day to see her again was nearly intolerable, but she’d left in such a rush that he hadn’t managed to ask her for it. Now he was paying the price for his own lack of forethought.
After he’d showered, he stood, wearing a thick robe, in front of his fourteenth-floor window. Lower Manhattan stretched out before him. He couldn’t believe how much he felt like singing. In fact, he’d been astonished to find himself humming in the shower. He gripped the towel around his neck with both hands and expelled a long sigh. It was almost as if…as if he’d been reborn. The world below seethed with activity. Yellow cabs crowded the streets. A tourist boat cruised around the isle. Funny, he hadn’t paid much attention to the Hudson River or the seaport or any other New York sights in a long while. Now they sparkled with new freshness, like a thousand facets in a flawless diamond. It seemed ridiculous to be so sure he was in love, but he felt breathless with excitement just thinking about Cindy.
The phone rang and Thorne reached for it immediately. It was unrealistic to hope the call was from Cindy, yet he nearly sighed with disappointment when his mother’s voice greeted him.
“Good morning, Thorne.”
“Good morning, Mother.”
“You certainly sound cheerful. How was the Christmas Ball?”
“Fabulous.”
“Did Sheila go with you?”
“No, she couldn’t get away.” His mother liked to keep close tabs on her children. Thorne tolerated her frequent calls because she was his mother and her motivations were benign, but he’d made it clear that his personal life was his own. She wanted him settled, sedately married, and producing enough grandchildren to keep her occupied. His sisters had done their part and now it was his turn.
He spoke again, remembering that he’d asked Cindy to meet his family. “Mother, listen, I’m glad you phoned. There’s someone I’d like to bring to the house. Would it be possible to have her to dinner soon?”
“Her?”
“Yes, if it’s not inconvenient, perhaps we could set it up for Christmas week.”
“Do you have exciting news for us, darling?”
Thorne weighed his words. “I suppose you could say that.” He’d met the woman he planned to share his life with. It didn’t get much more exciting than that, but he wasn’t about to announce it to his family. After all, he’d just met Cindy. His parents would scoff at him, and even Thorne had to admit that, on the surface anyway, he was behaving like a romantic fool.
“I believe your father and I have already guessed your news.” His mother’s voice rose with excitement.
“It’s not what you think, Mother.” Thorne paused and chuckled. “Or who you think. I met someone wonderful…someone very special. I suppose it’s a bit presumptuous of me, but I invited her over to meet you and Dad.” The invitation alone must have astounded his mother, since he rarely introduced his girlfriends to his family.
A short silence followed. “This someone you met…she isn’t by chance…Sheila?” his mother asked, her voice tinged with unlikely hope.
“Her name is Cindy, and we met at the Christmas Ball.” His mother would assume he’d lost his mind if he were to tell her that the minute he’d held Cindy, he’d known she was going to be the most important person in his life.
“Cindy.” His mother repeated it slowly. “What’s her last name?”
Thorne knew she was really inquiring about Cindy’s family. He hated to admit it, but his mother was a terrible snob.
“Surely this girl has a surname?” She was obviously displeased with this unexpected turn of events.
Thorne hesitated, realizing he didn’t know Cindy’s surname anymore than he did her phone number. “I…don’t believe she told me.”
“You don’t know her last name?”
“I just told you that, Mother. But it’s no problem. I’ll see her again Monday morning.” Even as he said it, two days felt like an eternity, and Thorne wasn’t convinced he could wait that long. “She’s an employee of Oakes-Jenning.”
Another lengthy pause followed. “You haven’t sai
d anything to Sheila?”
“Of course not, I only met Cindy last night. Listen, Mother, I’m probably making a mistake even mentioning her to you, but—”
“It’s just a shock, that’s all,” his mother responded calmly, having regained her composure. “Do me a favor, Thorne, and don’t say anything to Sheila yet.”
“But, Mother—”
“I wouldn’t want you to mislead the poor girl, but you might save yourself considerable heartache until you and…What was her name again?”
“Cindy.”
“Ah, yes, Cindy. It would be better if you sorted out your feelings for Cindy before you said something to Sheila that you might regret later.”
“Cindy knows all about Sheila.”
“Yes, but Sheila doesn’t know about Cindy, and my guess is you should let this new…relationship simmer until you’re sure of your feelings.”
Thorne’s jaw tightened. He’d been foolish to say anything to his mother. It was too soon. Later, when they saw how much he’d changed, they’d want to know the reason; he could tell them all about Cindy then.
“Thorne?” His mother prompted. “Do you agree?”
For a moment he had to stop and figure out what she wanted him to agree to. “I won’t tell Sheila,” he promised.
“Good.” She sighed loudly, her relief evident.
“You must have called for some reason, Mother.”
“Oh yes,” she said, and laughed nervously. “It was about Christmas Day. I was wondering if you minded…if I invited Sheila.”
“Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t.” Although Christmas was only a week and a half away, Thorne had hoped to share this special day with Cindy. Christmas and every day before and every day after.
The pause that followed told Thorne his objection had come too late.
“I’m afraid…I happened to run into her yesterday when I was shopping…and, oh dear, this is going to be a bit messy.”
“Sheila’s already been invited,” Thorne finished for his mother. He closed his eyes to the anger that rained over him but quickly forgave her interfering ways. She hadn’t meant to cause a problem. It must’ve seemed natural to extend the invitation when he’d recently indicated he’d probably be marrying Sheila.
“Will that be too uncomfortable, darling?”
“Don’t worry about it, Mother. I’m sure everything will work out fine.” Cindy would understand, Thorne thought confidently. She was a generous person who revealed no tendencies toward unreasonable jealousy.
“I do apologize, but your father and I both thought Sheila would be joining our family…”
“I know, Mother. My change of heart was rather unpredictable.”
The conversation with his mother ended soon, and Thorne hung up the phone, more certain than ever about his feelings for Cindy. Remembering the way she’d strolled up to him at the ball and announced that she was Cinderella brought a quivering smile to his mouth. And then she’d told him what a disappointment he was. Thorne laughed out loud. Monday morning couldn’t come soon enough.
—
Cindy woke late the next morning, feeling both exhilaration and regret.
The evening with Thorne had been so much more than she’d dared to dream. She hadn’t been able to sleep for hours after Uncle Sal had taken her home. She’d lain in bed, reliving every part of the evening. The night had been perfect—after their awkward beginning when she’d introduced herself. Remembering the tenderness she’d seen in his gaze when he looked down at her in the carriage, she felt an aching sob in her chest.
She’d been wrong to play the role of Cinderella. It would’ve been so much easier if she’d never met Thorne Prince. Now she was forever doomed to feel this ache within her for having so flippantly tempted fate.
When she’d arrived home, even before she’d undressed, Cindy had sat on the end of her bed and tried to picture Thorne in her home. The image was so discordant that she’d cast the thought from her mind. If Thorne were to see this apartment and the earthy family she loved, he’d be embarrassed. Thorne Prince didn’t know what it meant to live from paycheck to paycheck or to “make do” when money was tight. He might as well be from another planet in a neighboring solar system, he was so far removed from her way of life.
“Cindy.” Her aunt knocked at the bedroom door. “Are you awake?”
Cindy sat up awkwardly and leaned against her headboard. “I’m up…come on in.”
Slowly, her aunt opened the door. Her eyes met Cindy’s. “It’s nearly noon. Are you feeling ill?”
It was unusual for Cindy to stay in bed for any reason. “A headache.”
Aunt Theresa sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair away from Cindy’s forehead. “Did you have a good time last night?” she asked.
Cindy’s gaze dropped to the patchwork quilt that served as her bedspread. “I had a wonderful time.”
“Did Cinderella meet her prince?”
Cindy’s eyes glistened at the memory. “I spent most of the evening with him.”
“Was he everything Cinderella expected?”
Cindy nodded, because speaking was impossible. She leaned forward enough to rest her head on her aunt’s shoulder.
“And now?” the older woman probed.
“And now Cinderella realizes what a terrible fool she was because at midnight she turned back into plain, simple Cindy Territo.” A tear scorched her cheek and her arms circled her aunt’s neck. Just as she had as a child, Cindy needed the warmth and security of her aunt’s love.
“My darling girl, you are neither plain nor simple.”
Cindy sniffled and sadly shook her head. “Compared to other women he knows, I am.”
“But he liked you.”
“He probably thought I was a secretary.”
“Nevertheless, he must’ve been impressed to have spent the evening in your company. Does it matter so much if you’re a secretary or a cleaning woman?”
“Unfortunately, it does.”
“It seems to me that you’re selling your prince short,” her aunt said soothingly, stroking Cindy’s hair. “If he’s everything you said, it wouldn’t matter in the least.”
Cindy said nothing. She couldn’t answer her aunt’s questions. Her own doubts were overwhelming.
“Do you plan to see him again?” Theresa asked, after a thoughtful moment.
Cindy closed her eyes. “Never,” she whispered.
—
Monday morning Thorne walked into his office fifteen minutes before he usually did. Ms. Hillard, his secretary, looked up from her desk, revealing mild surprise that her boss was early.
“Good morning, Ms. Hillard. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
His secretary’s mouth dropped open. “It’s barely above freezing and they’re forecasting a snowstorm by midafternoon.”
“I love snow,” Thorne continued, undaunted.
Ms. Hillard rolled out her chair and stood. “Are you feeling all right, sir?”
“I’m feeling absolutely wonderful.”
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“Please.” Thorne strolled toward his desk. “And contact Wells in Human Resources, would you?”
“Right away.” A minute later she delivered his coffee. The red light on his phone was lit, and Thorne sat down and reached for the receiver.
“This is Thorndike Prince,” he began in clipped tones. “Would you kindly check your files for the name Cindy. She works on the executive floor. I’d like her full name and the office number.”
“Cindy?” the director repeated.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have her surname.”
“This may take some time, Mr. Prince. I’ll have to call you back.”
Thorne thumped his fingers against his desk in an effort to disguise his impatience. “I’ll wait to hear from you.” He replaced the receiver and leaned back in his chair, holding his mug of coffee in both hands. He gazed out the window and noted for the first time the dark, angry
clouds that threatened the sky. A snowstorm, Ms. Hillard had said. Terrific! He’d take Cindy for a walk in the falling snow and warm her with kisses. They’d go back to the park and feed the pigeons and squirrels, then head over to his apartment and drink mulled wine. He’d spent one restless day without her and he wasn’t about to waste another. His head was bursting with things he wanted to tell her, things he found vitally important to share. Today he’d learn everything he could about her. Once he knew everything, he’d take her in his arms and tell her the magic hadn’t stopped working. The spell she’d cast on him hadn’t faded and it wouldn’t. If anything, it had grown stronger.
The phone rang, and he jerked the receiver off its cradle. “Prince here.”
“This is Jeff Wells from HR.”
“Yes?”
“Sir”—he paused and cleared his throat—“I’ve checked all our records and I can’t find anyone named Cindy or Cynthia employed on the executive floor.”
“Then look again,” Thorne said urgently.
“Sir, I’ve checked the files three times.”
“Then please do so again.” Thorne hung up the phone. He wondered grimly if he’d have to go down there and locate Cindy’s name himself.
A half-hour later, Thorne had to agree with Wells. There wasn’t a secretary or assistant in the entire company named Cindy. Thorne slammed the filing-cabinet drawer shut with unnecessary force.
“Who was in charge of the Christmas Ball?” he demanded.
Jeffrey Wells, a diminutive man who wore a bow tie and glasses, bowed his head. “I was, Mr. Prince.”
“The ball was by invitation only. Is that correct?”
“Yes sir, I received my instructions from—”
“I want the list.”
“The list?” He pulled out a file and handed Thorne several sheets of paper. “The name of every employee who received an invitation is here, except one, and—”
“Who?” Thorne whirled around to face the other man.
“Me,” Wells said in a startled voice.
Thorne scanned the list, then again more slowly, carefully examining each name. No Cindy.