Clearly there was a story there, one he didn’t want to tell.
“And now,” Bentley quickly changed the subject as the carriage started to move. “You have a gift.”
The box was simple.
Black.
She pulled off the lid and gasped.
A pair of glass high-heeled shoes twinkled in the moonlight. Black leather material was braided in an elegant design across the top of the shoe before adjoining the glass heel in the back.
A simple note rested on top of the shoes:
For Cinderella—try not to break a heel at the ball.
Love, Brock.
Her pearls sat neatly between the two shoes, set in the shape of a heart.
How had he gotten the pearls back from her sisters? Did it matter? Tears welled in her eyes. He’d said “love.”
Love.
And pearls.
And shoes.
More tears stung.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bentley laughed. “Instead of sending me for shoes, he went shopping all on his own.” More laughter. “Brock hates shopping. Looks like the jackass grew some balls.”
“Oh, he’s always had balls,” Jane said without thinking.
Brant snapped his attention back to her. “This is a fun topic, my brother’s balls.”
Her cheeks heated. “Let’s, uh, just put on the shoes. Or I’ll put on the shoes and…” She tried to reach her feet but her dress was too tight.
“You’re either going to rip your dress or flash us both, which will most likely earn both of us black eyes.” Brant rolled his eyes. “Here, let me help.”
“Thanks.” She beamed as Brant tugged off her heels and replaced them with the beautiful black and glass shoes that Brock had given her.
The shoes were beautiful.
But what made her smile was the fact that they were black. Had it only been a month ago when he’d teased her about black shoes and she’d blurted out information about her underwear?
“Damn, I’ve never seen a woman so thrilled to have a pair of shoes before,” Brant said under his breath.
“It’s not just the shoes. It’s what they represent.” She grinned. “I mean, the thought behind them.” Brant’s expression was completely blank. “Come on, haven’t you ever given someone a gift that held memories? Or a hidden meaning?”
Brant’s expression hardened before he offered an easy smile and looked out the window. “I don’t waste my time with gifts. Why should I when I’m never with the same woman more than once?”
Bentley laughed softly.
“We’re here.” Brant held out his hand to Jane and smiled. “You ready for this?”
The carriage stopped in front of Warehouse 215. The entire outside of the structure had been transformed with hanging candles and flowers, making the ambiance magical.
Bentley followed after them and grabbed her other hand. “I believe you have a prince to steal.”
Jane pressed a hand to her stomach. “That’s not making me feel any less nervous.”
The twins merely smiled and escorted her inside.
Directly into the arms of a woman she’d never seen before. She wore bright red lipstick and talked way too fast and before Jane knew what was happening she was showing her license to another lady, who double-checked her name on the guest list.
“Oh look, there you are!” Jane frowned at the flamboyantly dressed woman, who still held onto her arm. She examined the guest list and then nodded. “Okay, now everything looks ready to go!”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Here.” Jane handed over her check for thirty thousand dollars. It was all she had to bid with.
The woman still holding onto her arm snorted out a laugh and nodded to the lady with the guest list. “Just add it to her account and we’ll deal with it later. Thank you!”
The next person in line stepped up and Jane was tugged away by the pretty, elderly woman. With a giant smile she whispered to Jane, “Wait ten minutes before coming in.”
“What?” Jane frowned. “Why?”
“Honey,” The woman’s red pouted mouth dipped into a frown. “Cinderella always has to make the perfect entrance.” She winked and abandoned Jane just like the twins had.
What the heck was going on?
Chapter Forty-Three
If Brock had to listen to one more woman talk about the state of the world, or the economy, or the irritating fact that they couldn’t park close enough to the warehouse where the ball was being held, he was going to take a cue from his brothers and start downing shots.
Bentley eyed Brock over his whiskey with a smug grin, then lifted his glass into the air in a silent toast.
They were supposed to have arrived with Jane a half hour ago. The twins were here, but where was Jane?
So far there’d been no sign of his grandfather.
Where the hell were they?
Panic set in when he realized that if for some reason his grandfather saw Jane first…What if he said something to her that made her run? What if he was mean to her? Was his grandfather capable of that?
Maybe it was just Brock’s own nerves about the plan for that evening. He just wanted everything to be over with. And Jane in his arms.