Chapter Eight
Guilt wasn't something I often felt, but the way I'd left my dress scrunched up overnight was causing some. Enrique would be horrified if he learned about the state of his creations. I was going to have to tell him too. At least I was on my way to his studio and wasn't going to be able to chicken out.
The whole place was dead, and I didn't know why. Maybe everyone was hung over from the multitude of royal wedding drinking games that had no doubt been played the previous day. I'd taken part in one myself during my university days, when one of the cousins got married. It had been fun, but I'd suffered the next day.
"Sadie! There's my little Cinderella," Enrique called, hooking an arm around my waist and drawing me into the building further.
"Please don't call me that," I mumbled, pouting a little. I might be complaining but the similarities to that story weren't lost on me. Though I'd gotten lucky with my stepmother. She might hate me, but she'd never used me as a slave.
"But then I can't call myself the Fairy Gay-Mother," he protested, moving away from me to put the kettle on in his tiny kitchenette.
"You shouldn't be calling yourself that anyway."
"Party pooper." He danced about to a tune all his own as he made tea and I took the opportunity to grab my dress out of my bag, smoothing it out. "What have you brought that for?"
"To give back to you?" I didn't mean it to sound like a question, but the doubt crept into my words.
"I didn't lend it to you, Sadie. I gave it to you," he pointed out. "You weren't meant to give it back."
"I can't accept this as a gift..."
"You can, and you will. I can never see it on anyone else now, not having seen it on you."
I leaned down, ignoring him, and pulled out the two pairs of shoes. Except...
"I'm missing a shoe," I whispered.
"A shoe? Are you telling me you really are Cinderella?" He laughed and handed me a steaming cup of coffee.
"Don't laugh," I insisted.
"It's hard not to," he replied. "It is a little ridiculous."
"I can't believe I didn't..."
"Didn't what?" He raised an eyebrow and perched himself on the chair opposite me. "Did you not leave with both your shoes, Sadie?"
"I don't know," I admitted quietly.
"Interesting. So, what happened?" He looked at me like I was about to give him the juiciest gossip he'd ever heard. Maybe I was. It wasn't often someone snuck into a party just to see a man and get that man.
"I found him," I admitted, concentrating on sipping my drink instead of looking at him.
"And from the look on your face, you got it good."
"Enrique!"
"There's no denying it. So, how was he? As good as he looks?"
"Better," I admitted. "He was everything I wanted and more."
"So?"
"So?" I parroted.
"When are you seeing him again?"
"I'm not." I set my mug down and gave him a stern look. "This was never about something long term."
"Sadie Parker, have you lost your mind?"
"No. I just don't want to waste my future running after a man."
Enrique sighed and rose to his feet. "And what if he's the one doing the running?"
"What are you on about? I'm pretty sure I left him."
He ignored me and went over to his desk, riffling through the various papers strewn there. For someone with such a meticulous eye for detail, his desk was a real state. I didn't know how he coped.
"Here." He slapped a newspaper down on our table.
My eyes widened as I took in the headline and the photo attached, right next to a review of the hottest new band, Fifth Element. "No." I shook my head, not wanting to believe what I was seeing. "No."
"Yes, Sadie." He sat down and turned the paper so he could see it. He cleared his throat, reminding me somewhat of a newscaster. "A real-life Cinderella story happened at Queen Amara's wedding last night when a lone shoe was left as the only sign of a woman there. Leopold Bodart has requested any information about the woman who left the shoe pictured to come forward."
"What is everyone's obsession with Cinderella?" I muttered.