The Fairy Tales Collection (16 page)

“Bennett?  Don’t you think that woman
reminds you of Ella?”  Belle said.

“Um, yeah, maybe,” Bennett said nervously
as Duncan joined them.  “If you squint.”

Belle laughed.  “You don’t have to squint
to see the resemblance.  Duncan, look at this woman – doesn’t she remind you of
Ella?”

Duncan shook his head. “No, not really.”

Belle gave both men an exasperated look. 
“Both of you are nuts.”

Ella studied the painting as Duncan cleared
his throat.  “Do you, uh, like it, Ella?”

He sounded anxious and she glanced at him
before nodding.  “I love it.  It’s so,” she struggled to find the right word,
“incredible.”

His face relaxed and he gave her his first
genuine smile of the evening.  “Good.  I’m glad you like it.”

She studied him for a moment, wondering
what the look in his eyes meant, before her gaze was drawn back to the painting
in front of her.  She stared at it for another five minutes as the others
waited patiently before giving them a rueful smile. “Sorry, we can move on
now.”

“We can stare at it as long as you want,”
Belle said.

Ella laughed.  “There’s a crowd gathering
behind us.  Besides, I want to go and see my favourite painting.  I heard it
was finally up for sale.”

She moved down the hallway, stopping at
each painting to carefully study them.  Her favourite was around the corner and
she couldn’t stop her soft sigh when she saw the ‘sold’ sticker on it.

“It’s been sold,” she said quietly.

“Sorry, honey,” Belle squeezed her arm.  “I
know you really wanted to buy this one.”

Ella shook her head.  “I could never have
afforded it, Belle.”

She could never really afford it.  Still,
there had been a small part of her that had often daydreamed she would have an
original Samuel art piece in her possession.  She would love any of them but
this was this one that she had wanted the most.

“Really?  How much do these paintings sell
for anyway?”  Belle leaned forward and studied the small, discreet looking
price tag that hung from the lower edge of the frame.

“Holy fuckballs,” she said in a quiet
voice.  “This thing costs a hundred grand!”

Bennett laughed.  “That’s just the starting
price.  Samuel’s paintings go to the highest bidder.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ella said.  “A person will put in a
bid for the starting price.  In this case it’s a hundred grand.  If other
people are interested they can put in higher bids.  Each person who bids is
notified of the price hike and can decide if they want to counter offer.  The
highest bidder takes the painting home.  One of Samuel’s paintings went for nearly
half a million last year.”

“No way,” Belle said in a faint voice.  “I
mean, I get that the guy is good but who has that kind of money to spend on a
painting?”

“Lots of people,” Ella said.  “Art like
Samuel’s is priceless, really.  I’m surprised that this one has a sold sign on
it already.  I would have thought the bidding wouldn’t have ended until the
show was over.”

She reached out and lightly traced the
heavy wooden frame it was encased in.  “I hope she goes to a good home. 
Someone who loves her as much as I do.”

Duncan stared at her as warmth infused his
body.  God, he loved the way she looked when she was staring at his paintings
as if they were the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.  They paled in
comparison to her though.  He had tried repeatedly to capture her beauty in his
paintings but as hard as he tried he didn’t think he would ever come close.  He
thought maybe the lion painting was the closest he’d ever gotten to truly
capturing Ella’s beauty.  It was the reason he had sent it to Reva.  It was too
good to languish in his art studio with the other portraits of Ella.

Ella took one last look at the painting
before glancing at her watch.  “If you guys are ready we should probably go.  I
have a busy today tomorrow.”

Belle took Bennett’s hand and squeezed it
lightly.  “We’re ready whenever you are, Ella.”

* * *

Ella stared at the unfamiliar number on her
cell phone before shutting off her car.  She was already running late for her
appointment but she answered the phone anyway.

“Ella Cinders, speaking.  How can I help
you?”

“Ms. Cinders?”  The man’s voice was vaguely
familiar.  “This is Henry Treating.”

“Hello Mr. Treating, how are you?”  Henry
owned the only car repair shop in town.

“Oh, can’t complain.  Well, I could but
ain’t no one around who would listen.”

She laughed politely as he cleared his
throat.  “So, Duncan Gillis was in the shop today and he mentioned that the
night before last he got a massage from you?  Said you had started up your own
business where ya come to a person’s house?”

“That’s right,” she said slowly.  “Healing
Hands Massage Therapy.”

“Right,” he said.  “Well, Doc Mitchell says
I got problems with sciatica and Duncan said that your massage fixed his lower
back pain right up.  He gave me your number and said to call you.  Does massage
help with sciatica?”

“It does,” she said as excitement brewed in
her belly.  “Massage therapy has been proven to be very effective in relieving
sciatica pain.”

“Good, good,” Henry said.  “Do you think I
could book you for an appointment then?  Some days it’s so bad I can barely
work on the cars.”

“Of course,” she said.  “What day were you
thinking?”

“Well, I can’t do it during the day, most
of the time I’m the only one at the shop, you know.”

“That’s fine, evenings work better for me,”
Ella replied.

“Good, good.  How about tomorrow night
then?  Say around six?”

“Perfect,” Ella said.

“Good, good.  I’ll text you my address
then.”

“You text?”  She said with a touch of
amusement.

“O’course.  Don’t everybody text these
days?”  Henry said.  “I gotta run, someone’s in the shop.  See you tomorrow
night, Ms. Cinders.”

“Yes, thank you, Henry.”

“Ayuh,” he grunted before hanging up.

Ella stared at her cell phone.  She had
another booking and it was all thanks to Duncan Gillis.  Why on earth would he
actually recommend her?  She didn’t have a clue but holy hell – she had another
client.

Her phone rang again and she made a little
shriek of surprise and nearly dropped it.  Another unfamiliar number and, her
hands trembling lightly, she answered it.  “Ella Cinders speaking.  How can I
help you?”

“This is Marjorie Wilkins calling!”

Ella winced as the old woman’s voice,
cracked and shrill, bellowed into her ear.  “I’m Duncan Gillis’ neighbour.”

“Hello, Mrs. Wilkins. How can I help you?” 
Ella asked.

“What’s that?”  Mrs. Wilkins shouted.

“How can I help you?”  Ella shouted into
the phone.

“All right, dear, no need to shout,” the
old woman said irritably.  “I’ve got arthritis something bad in my hands and
this morning when Duncan was taking out my trash he said that you did massage. 
He said he’s got sore hands and that he had you massage them and it helped a
tremendous amount.  I told him that was all fine and dandy for someone like him
who didn’t have a bum leg and had a driver’s license, and he said that you
would come right to my house.  Is that true?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ella said.

“What was that?  Speak up!”  The old woman
said sharply.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ella hollered.  “I can come
to your house.”

“Good.  I’ll expect you at my house Friday
morning at seven.  Don’t be late.  I cannot stand lateness,” the old woman
shouted.  She recited her address and Ella hurried to write it on a napkin she
found in her purse.

“Seven a.m.,” the old woman shouted again
and hung up before Ella could reply.

“Holy shit,” Ella said softly.  She stared
at the address on the napkin before jerking.  “Dammit, my appointment.”

She tucked her phone into her purse,
climbed out of her car and walked quickly toward her accountant’s office. 
Three years ago, the town’s council had voted in favour of building a new
high-rise building in the downtown core.  It was only twelve floors but
compared to the rest of downtown’s buildings, it was considered a high-rise. 
There had been a petition sent around in protest of the buildings.  The town’s
older residents had seen the new buildings as a blight against the town’s
rather picturesque appeal but it hadn’t gained much steam and the construction
had gone ahead.  The town council had planned on building two more but funding
had fallen through and now the building stood out like a sore thumb among the
smaller, older buildings of the downtown core.

She pushed open the door of the lobby and
crossed the dark tile to the elevator.  She pressed the button, feeling that
familiar low tinge of panic in her belly.  She usually avoided elevators but
her accountant was on the twelfth floor and she was already running late.  It
would take her forever to climb the twelve flights of stairs and she’d be
sweaty and out of breath if she did.

Ignoring her fear, she stepped into the
elevator and pushed the button before taking a deep breath.  She could do
this.  It was less than a three-minute ride.  As the doors started to slide
close, she bit her bottom lip and swallowed heavily.  She was fine.  She was
perfectly fine.

A hand slid between the nearly-closed doors
and they bounced open immediately.  Duncan Gillis, dressed in his usual t-shirt
and jeans, slipped into the elevator and grinned at her.

“What are you doing here?  Are you
following me?”  She said as he pushed the button for the tenth floor.

“No,” he laughed and she blushed.  “I have
an appointment with my lawyer.” 

He stared at her work shirt, his eyes
lingering on the logo over her right breast and she had to fight her instinct to
cover her breasts with her arms.

“Didn’t realize Cinders Cleaning worked on
commercial buildings as well,” he said.

“We don’t.  I’m on my lunch break and I
have an appointment with my accountant,” she replied as the elevator doors
closed.

She felt a moment of panic that she
suppressed fiercely but Duncan immediately stiffened before sniffing in her
direction.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said as the elevator moved
upward.

“You’re afraid,” he said before beginning
to move toward her.

“No, I’m not.”  She backed away until her
butt hit the wall of the elevator.

“Yes, you are,” he said with a frown.  “Why
are you – “

There was a terrific jolt and she screamed
breathlessly as the elevator shuddered to a stop with a grinding noise that
made fear blossom in her belly.  The lights went out, plunging them into
darkness and she screamed again as panic flooded her nervous system.

Ella tried to take a deep breath but there
wasn’t enough oxygen and she panted harshly as she began to cry.  She was
trapped, trapped in the dark and she couldn’t breathe and she –

“Ella,” Duncan’s low voice came out of the
dark and when his hands touched her shoulders, she threw herself forward and
clung to him with panicky tightness.

“Ella, you’re hyperventilating,
sweetheart.  Slow your breathing down,” he spoke into her ear, his hard hands
rubbing her back soothingly.

“Can’t breathe,” she gasped, “not enough
air.”

“There is,” he said firmly.  “There’s
plenty of air, sweetheart.  Breathe like I am.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and
she felt his warm breath puff against her face.  She could hear him inhaling
and exhaling in a steady rhythm and she tried to mimic it, concentrating
fiercely on nothing but the sound of his breathing.

“Good,” he said.  “Keep breathing just like
that, Ella.”

He started to step away and she made a
harsh cry of fear, “Don’t leave me!”

“I’m not,” he said immediately.  “I’m not
going anywhere, sweetheart.  I promise.  I just want to find the phone and – “

There was a low buzzing noise and the
emergency light clicked on, bathing them in a red dim light.  He cupped her
face and smiled at her.  “There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

She nodded but moved with him when he
crossed the small space and opened the door on the button panel.  He lifted the
black phone handle and waited patiently.

“Hi.  Yes, there are two of us stuck in
your elevator,” he said after a moment.

He listened and she closed her eyes and
concentrated on her breathing, one hand clutching the back of his shirt as
panic fluttered through her.  He hung up the phone and gave her a reassuring
look.

“They’re sending maintenance to fix it
right now.  Nothing too serious, just an electrical malfunction.  They think it
won’t take very long.”

“How long?”  She whispered.

“An hour, maybe two.”

“Oh my God,” she moaned as fresh panic
poured in.  “Duncan, I can’t be in here.  I can’t – “

She was starting to hyperventilate again
and she didn’t protest when Duncan pulled her into his embrace and rubbed her
back.  “Deep breaths, sweetheart.  No passing out on me, okay?”

She inhaled through her nose, blowing her
breath out through her mouth as she stared at Duncan’s face. 

“We’ll run out of oxygen,” she whispered.

“No, sweetheart, we won’t.”

“D-do you promise?”  She asked.

“I promise.  Why don’t we sit down?”  He
suggested.

Without waiting for her reply, he sat down
on the floor and pulled her into his lap.  She was still panicking, despite the
reassuring bulk of Duncan underneath her and he rubbed her back slowly as he
pushed her face into his neck.

“Just close your eyes and breathe,
sweetheart.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to be sorry.  Having a
panic attack isn’t your fault.”

“There isn’t enough air,” she said again.

“Yes, there is,” he said firmly.  “Nice
deep breaths for five minutes, Ella.  You’ll feel better after that, I promise.”

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the
way the walls seemed to be closing in around her as she did what he said.  After
five minutes, he squeezed her thigh and murmured, “Better?”, she was surprised
to realize that it was a little better.  She didn’t feel quite as panicky and
while her heart was still pounding, it no longer felt like it was going to
explode in her chest.

“A little,” she whispered.

“Good.”  He continued to rub her back and
she raised her head and smiled weakly.

“At least I didn’t wet my pants this time.”

He gave her a look of sympathy before
pressing a kiss against her forehead.  “You were seven years old and locked in
a closet when you’re obviously claustrophobic.  You couldn’t help what
happened.”

She wiped at the tears on her face before
resting her head against his broad shoulder.  “I was so embarrassed that day.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said.  “I’m sorry
you had to go through that.”

“It could have been worse, I guess.  For
some reason my stepsisters and their friends never told anyone that I wet my
pants and they didn’t make fun of me either.”

He didn’t reply and she sat up again as
understanding dawned.  “Duncan, did you – did you ask them not to say
anything?”

“That depends.  Is threatening to tie them
up in the forest and leave them for the cougars and bears if they said anything
about what happened considered asking?”

Her mouth turned up in a trembling smile. 
“I – thank you.  That was really nice of you.”

He stroked her blonde hair back from her
face.  “You deserve to have nice things happen to you.”

She leaned against him again, watching as
his big hand stroked her full thigh slowly.  “I booked two more massage
appointments today.”

“Oh yeah?”  He said in a deliberately
neutral voice.

“Both because of you and your recommendations,”
she said.  “Thank you, Duncan.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re good at what you do, Ella.  I mean
that.  Just because I’m too much of a damn horndog when it comes to you,
doesn’t mean that others won’t benefit from your massages.”

“Thanks,” she said.  “How much longer do
you think?”

He squeezed her thigh.  “Try not to think
about the time, okay?”

She nodded and closed her eyes.  “Right.”

She sat quietly until the feeling of the
walls closing in became too much to bear.  She needed a distraction.  “Hey,
Duncan?”

“Yes?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Oh, uh, I’m in investing.”

“Like Bennett?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“It pays the bills,” he said.  “Why do you
still live with your stepmother?”

“I don’t live with her,” she said.  “I rent
the apartment above her garage.”

“Why?”

“She cuts me a break on rent.  I’m trying
to save money for the business, you know?”

“She makes you pay rent?”  The disgust in
his voice was apparent.

She shrugged.  “I don’t mind.  Although I
wish she’d fix the damn pipe under the sink.  I still don’t have running water
in the kitchen.  She says it’s my responsibility because she doesn’t charge me
much rent.”

“Sweetheart, you need to get away from her
and those two hags she calls daughters.  They’re not good for you.”

“They’re my family, Duncan.”

“No, they’re not,” he said.

She sighed loudly.  “Fine, they’re the only
family I have left since my dad died.  Ana and Dru are walking nightmares but
Edith isn’t that bad.  She could have given me up to foster care when my dad
died and she didn’t.  I know she seems harsh around the edges but there is a
part of her that loves me.  If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have taken care of me.”

“Forcing you to clean other people’s houses
when you were a child isn’t taking care of you, Ella,” Duncan said.

She jerked in surprise.  “How did you know
that?  I didn’t tell anyone but Belle.”

“People talk in small towns,” he said.

She made a bitter sound in the back of her
throat.  “Yeah, there are no secrets in this damn town.”

He didn’t answer and she shifted against
him.  “Why didn’t you leave with your parents when they moved?”

“I was eighteen and old enough to do my own
thing.  My parents were moving to the Bahamas, they love the heat, but I had
grown up in this town.  I love it here,” he said.

“I love it here too.  Belle and Ro keep
telling me I should leave for a couple of years.”  She winced when his arms
tightened around her, “Duncan, too tight.”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“That’s okay.  Anyway, they keep telling me
I should leave and get a job as a massage therapist in a bigger city.”

“Are you going to?”  She wondered if that
was worry she was hearing in his voice.

“Not right now.  Belle suggested I do this
traveling massage therapy thing and I decided to give it a try.  Although if it
doesn’t work out, I’ll probably be forced to leave.  I don’t want to clean
houses forever and I really enjoy the massage therapy.  I want to make a
difference for people who are in chronic pain instead of just cleaning their
toilets.”

She leaned against him trying to fight back
the still-lurking fear.  “Has it been an hour yet?”

“No,” he said gently.  “Not yet.”

“Thank you, Duncan.  If you – if you
weren’t here with me, I would have gone crazy,” she suddenly whispered.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he said.  “You’re
strong, Ella.”

“Not when it comes to this,” she sighed. 
She fanned herself with the front of her shirt.  “It’s really hot in here.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Not much oxygen.”

He squeezed her thigh again.  “There is,
sweetheart.”

She fanned herself again before touching
the front of his shirt.  It was nearly soaked through and she straightened. 
“Oh, Duncan, I’m sorry.  You’re much too warm with me leaning against you.”

“It’s fine,” he said.

“It isn’t,” she replied.  “Plus I’m too
heavy to sit on your lap.  Your legs must be numb.”

“They’re fine,” he repeated.  “You don’t
need to move, Ella.”

She hesitated and touched his shirt again. 
“You’re soaked with sweat.”

He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled
it over his head before she knew what was happening.  “There that’s better.”

She was staring silently at his chest and
he rubbed her thigh.  “Ella?  Are you okay?  Remember to breathe, sweetheart.”

“You’re so pretty,” she said in a soft
whisper.

“What?”  He leaned forward and then inhaled
sharply when she traced her fingers down his chest.

“Ella, you should stop touching me,” he
said in a low growl.

She lifted her gaze to his face, her pupils
large in the dim light.  “I – I don’t want to.”

He groaned and leaned forward, pressing his
mouth against hers.  She returned his kiss immediately, licking at his mouth
with her tongue and sliding it between his lips when he parted them.

He let her control the kiss as he gently
turned her body until she was straddling his thighs.  He rubbed her thighs
through her pants as they kissed repeatedly, slow and gentle brushes of their
mouths that drove her nearly crazy with need.

She moved her mouth to his throat, tasting
the saltiness of his skin with the tip of her tongue.  He groaned loudly and
cupped the back of her head.  She licked his neck again before kissing her way
to his earlobe and sucking firmly.

“Fuck,” he muttered as his pelvis thrust
against her. 

She gasped lightly and pushed back against
him, tearing another groan from his throat.  He cupped her face and kissed her
repeatedly until she was rocking against him and rubbing her breasts against
his chest.  He slipped his hand under her shirt and cupped her breast through
her bra, rubbing her nipple through the lace fabric until it hardened.

“I want to see your beautiful breasts,
Ella,” he murmured against her mouth.

She nodded and helped him pull her shirt
over her head.  “So gorgeous,” he whispered before placing a soft kiss against
the upper swell of her right breast. 

He traced the front clasp with his finger
and when she didn’t object, he unclipped it and peeled back the cups.  Her soft
and full breasts spilled out into his hands, their nipples a lovely shade of
pink.  He groaned and cupped them, gently lifting them up as he bent his head
and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

“Oh God,” she whispered. Her hands clutched
at his hair and she arched her back, silently asking for more.

He switched from nipple to nipple, sucking
and nipping until her pelvis was thrusting helplessly against him.  He slid his
right hand inside the waistband of her pants and she grabbed his wrist.

“Duncan, I’m not sure if this is a good
idea,” she said hesitantly.

“I need to touch your pussy,” he whispered
hotly into her ear before tracing the curve with his tongue.  “Please,
sweetheart.  Please.”

She released his wrist and he purred into
her ear. 

“What was that?”  She whispered as she
pressed one hand against his chest.  “Duncan, did you – did you just purr?”

He pushed his hand under her panties and
cupped her pussy, running his fingers through the soft curls before rubbing her
clit and she cried out, her question forgotten.