Stiletto Secrets (26 page)

Seeing Claire’s hands all over him, touching him, staring at him through her long fake eyelashes, Emma wanted to pull Claire by her hair and toss her out the goddamn window.

But when she heard Nicholas say,
“Yeah, Claire. That is exactly what I’m doing. Fraternizing with a maid just to piss off my old man,”
Emma felt like she could have ripped her own heart out just to keep the pain from spreading.

All words had forsaken her right then. She couldn’t find anything to say. It just hurt too much. Claire standing there with that smug grin on her face like she was watching the most entertaining soap opera in the world. And then Nicholas finally realized that it was her, Emma, and not Cinderella as he thought. It actually just proved that even Nicholas couldn’t imagine little maid Emma wearing a thousand dollar dress and actually looking like she was worth something. No, he immediately assumed that she was Cinderella, the hot stripper he had lusted after for weeks.

She leaned with her back against the door, and then slipped down to the ground. With every thought, and every passing second her heart was being grated into tiny little pieces, aching, throbbing, stinging with betrayal.

All this time she knew. She knew she wasn’t good enough for him. Tonight just confirmed it all. He was just using her to piss off his father, like he did with all the other women.

Through tears, Emma snorted. What a brilliant way to get to his father—play with the maid, pretend like you care about a low-class woman who wasn’t worth more than the shoes on her feet. Why didn’t she listen to what her gut had told her all along? But like Beth said, Emma let her heart rule her, guide her, and that’s why she was currently on the floor crying her heart out, feeling like her soul was drowning, suffocating, since the air around her felt like it no longer had the capacity to let her breathe.

She was choking on her own heartache but she knew she had no one else to blame but herself. For years she kept her hopes and dreams buried deep, and she survived. Now when she finally took the chance and allowed herself to feel hope, to dream again it all blew up in her face and it felt like a part of her had died—a very big part.

Emma could not believe that she had been so stupid to think that she could have her own happily ever after with a man like Nicholas. Such fairy tale endings weren’t meant for a woman like her.

She closed her eyes, trying desperately to swallow her tears. But she only cried harder, weeping into her palm as memories of her and Nicholas flashed through her head, gnashing at her heart.

It was over.

For only a few days Emma thought her happily ever after might just come to pass, that Nicholas might be the man to finally make her dream again.

Yet here she was, on her living room floor, her heart bleeding inside of her chest, and all she could do was cry, wanting to drown all the agony with her tears.

* * * *

Monday morning Nicholas was sitting at the boardroom table waiting for the others to arrive. He had called an emergency meeting that morning since he had a whole lot on his mind. Needless to say Nicholas didn’t sleep at all the previous night. After Hunter left, he tried calling Emma, but her phone was off. He contemplated going over to her place, but he decided that he had to do this first before attempting to get her back. And he was getting her back, no matter what.

His mind was still reeling with the fact that Emma had been Cinderella all along. No wonder he couldn’t get Cinderella out of his mind. All this time he hated himself for feeling the way he did, especially after he had fallen for Emma. But now it all made sense. He was so attracted to Cinderella because she
was
Emma. Deep down Nicholas actually felt like he knew it all along. From the first day he saw Emma, her voice, it sounded so familiar, and of course it did, because he heard that voice while blindfolded and cuffed to a bolted chair. That voice seduced him into an obsession that clearly had him by the balls.

And then those eyes. Somehow when he looked into Cinderella’s eyes the night he finally saw her, he knew that he knew those eyes which stared back at him. But he was obviously too enthralled, too intoxicated by her to fit it all together.

Adam came sauntering in with his usual swagger. “Good morning, Mr. Cullen.”

“Mr. Cullen?”

Adam unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat next to Nicholas. “Yeah. You were so brooding, and
I-hate-my-life
on Saturday night, you reminded me of that vampire dude.” Adam looked at Nicholas with a sideway glance. “Minus the glitter of course. Then you’d just be gay. Not that I’d have a problem with that. But personally, I wouldn’t fuck you.”

Nicholas snickered. “And why, dear Adam, would you not fuck me?”

“It’s the hair.”

“My hair?”

“Yeah. It’s just,” Adam waved his hand at Nicholas’ head, “too damn square.”

“Square?”

“Yup. Square.”

Nicholas just shook his head. “You are really one of a kind, Adam.”

“And don’t you forget it. Now tell me what’s up with this meeting?”

Oh, there was a whole lot up with this meeting.

Nicholas just leaned back. “You’ll know in about,” he checked his wristwatch, “ten minutes time.”

Just then Claire entered the boardroom, and Nicholas had to stop himself from gagging. The way she carried herself, the over confidence that oozed out of her like an infection, it was quite disturbing.

“Good morning, Nicholas.” She smiled alluringly as she swayed her hips from side to side making her way over to where he sat. She leaned down and placed her slimy lips on his cheek like she actually thought she had the right to do that. But Nicholas bit back his disgust and swallowed it, knowing that within a few minutes she would choke on that goddamn grin of hers.

Adam gawked at them. “Well this is new.”

As Claire made her way to an open seat, Adam pointed his finger at her, then at Nicholas, and then back at Claire. “Are you two—”

“No!” Nicholas answered abruptly, the mere thought of what Adam wanted to ask giving him chills all over, and not the good kind of chills.

Claire lifted a brow and smiled coyly. “Not yet.”

Urgh, gag.

“So,” Claire shifted in her seat to focus her gaze on Nicholas, “is my dearest step-sister okay?”

Nicholas shrugged, not wanting to even say Emma’s name in her presence. “I wouldn’t know.”

Claire pulled her fingers idly through her hair. “Poor thing. She really embarrassed herself last night. I don’t know what she was thinking attending the ball in the first place. It was no place for a woman like her.”

“A woman like her?” Nicholas asked while slanting his head to the side, feeling his anger rising inside of him.

“Oh, come now, Nicholas. The woman is a maid for God’s sake.” She took a bottle of water and poured it into a glass, taking a sip before she continued. “And where did she get the means to afford that dress, I wonder?”

“I bought her the dress,” Nicholas answered and stared at her, pensively waiting to see her reaction.

“Oh.” She sat back down. “Well, good for you, Nicholas. It’s quite liberating to give back to the community, doing some charity work every now and then.”

Nicholas snorted. “Yeah, something you’re very familiar with, I’m sure.”

“Well,” Adam chimed in, “this is by far the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing.”

Claire glared his way, and Nicholas just stared at her wishing he was able to shoot poison daggers straight at her chest. Just the memory of having her paws all over him the night before, her warm disgusting breath on his cheek had him wishing he’d rather had his balls clamped. It would be much less painful.

Just then his father came walking in, and along with his entrance came that very familiar feeling of the air being sucked out of the room.

“What is this all about, Nicholas?” he asked harshly taking a seat at the end of the table like the fucking king he thought he was.

“Well, good morning to you too, Dad,” Nicholas sneered. “I trust you slept well?”

Robert Blake glowered at Nicholas from across the table. Then he turned his attention to Claire who still looked nauseatingly smug.

“I do apologize for my son summoning you here along with the rest of us.”

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Blake.” She turned her smoky eyes toward Nicholas. “I’m always looking for an excuse to see your son.”

Again, gag.

“Indeed.” Robert turned his attention to Adam. “Any specific reason for your presence in this meeting?”

“What?” Adam feigned a look of confusion, “Other than gracing you all with my pretty face? I have no idea, Mr. Blake.”

Nicholas snickered, smothering the sound by placing his fist in front of his mouth. Then he cleared his throat. “You’ll find out soon enough why I asked Adam to join us.”

The door opened and Hunter came walking in, clutching a yellow manila folder in his hand. Nicholas noticed all the confused stares as they saw Hunter entering the boardroom.

Hunter never came around to the office. He compared the suits and ties associated with the corporate world to a prostate exam. Your pants get pulled off, your balls get squeezed and you get a finger straight up your ass.

“Hunter,” Nicholas nodded, and there was no stopping the little sly grin that spread along his face. Claire didn’t recognize him. She never saw the
private investigator
she had hired to find dirt on Emma. Now imagine the surprise when she did find out, in about five minutes.

Adam smiled amused. “Hey, man. It’s always such a joyous occasion when you visit us at the office.”

“Shut up,” Hunter snapped, and Adam laughed.

“Can someone please tell me what this is all about, and stop wasting my time,” Robert growled.

“Mr. Blake.” Hunter nodded in his direction and then placed the yellow folder in front of Robert.

“What is this?”

Hunter walked back and went to stand in the corner, crossing his arms as he settled in to watch what was about to unfold.

Nicholas straightened and looked at his father. “For the last few months I never fully understood your motives for wanting me and Claire together. I just didn’t know why you were so hell-bent on fixing me up with her.” He shot a quick glare in Claire’s direction.

Robert still hadn’t touched the folder in front of him. He just leaned back and said, “It’s only because Claire is the perfect match for you.”

Claire smiled almost victoriously.

Disgusting.

“Yes, well, Hunter over here is a private investigator.” Nicholas heard the soft gasps. “Yeah, who knew?”

He got up from his chair, buttoned up his jacket and started to walk around the table. “So about a week ago, Hunter got this phone call from a certain, Miss Monroe.” He stared straight at Claire and she shifted, a look of discomfort suddenly clouding her fake, Botoxed face. “And this Miss Monroe asked him to dig up some dirt on a Miss Tremaine.”

Adam’s eyes widened since he caught on where this was going way before the other two.

Nicholas smirked. “Oh, Dad, you know that maid, Emma, aka Miss Tremaine in this instance, she’s Claire’s stepsister.” He watched with satisfaction as Robert paled.

“Tremaine?” Robert asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Nicholas nodded, “Tremaine, as in Henry Tremaine. As in Claire’s late stepfather.”

“Oh, I actually knew that,” Adam chimed in like he was actually proud of it. Nicholas just stared at him with a giant what-the-fuck look on his face.

Adam shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

Nicholas turned back to Robert and Claire. “So the night at the charity dinner when Claire saw Emma as my date, she decided that she needed dirt on the
maid
. What a surprise that it turned out that the private investigator she hired happened to be one of my best friends.” Nicholas was talking to his father, but he had his eyes fixed on Claire, wanting to see her grow paler by the second.

“Nicholas,” Robert’s voice boomed through the boardroom, “get to the point.”

He turned to his father. “Hunter decided to do some digging on Miss Monroe here instead.” Then he faced Claire again. “And just guess what he found?”

Claire didn’t move, she didn’t even fucking blink. She knew it was coming, she knew that Nicholas had gotten hold of the truth.

Robert abruptly got up from his chair. “I don’t have time for this bullshit,” he barked.

But Nicholas held up his hand, and continued to stare at Claire. “Does the name Hildegard Swartz ring a bell?”

Within a nanosecond Claire went from pale, to the brightest shade of red Nicholas had ever seen.

“How…” she started almost inaudibly.

Robert looked at Nicholas. “Who is Hildegard Swartz?”

Nicholas smiled smugly at Claire. “Tell him, Claire. Who is Hildegard Swartz? Or better yet, tell him about Greta Swartz. That is your mother, is it not?”

Silence.

Glorious silence swept through the room, and by the grave, haunting look on Claire’s face, she knew it was over. Check-fucking-mate. But he would make her say it.

“Tell him!” Nicholas yelled, and she jerked in her seat.

“It’s me,” she answered softly. “Hildegard Swartz is me.”

“And Greta?” Nicholas continued.

Claire—or Hildegard—or who-fucking-ever, bit her lips and Nicholas could practically see the wheels turning inside her head.

“Greta is my mother.”

“Holy shit!” Adam bit out.

Robert stared at Claire with a confused look plastered all over his wrinkly face. “But your mother is Lillian Tremaine?”

Claire opened her mouth, but Nicholas interrupted her. This was the part he wanted to tell his father.

“Lillian Tremaine is a world class con artist. She sought out all the rich men, seduced them, and then married them. After she was done manipulating them, embezzling all their money, her husbands would just conveniently turn up dead.”

Nicholas noticed that Claire was shaking, her eyes gleaming with tears.

He didn’t care.

Hunter walked closer, deciding to join in on the conversation. “After Greta’s third husband’s death, she became a suspect. Even though it looked like suicide, the police suspected that there was some form of foul play involved. So she took her daughter, changed their names and started over, off the police’s radar.”