Hot Billionaire's Cinderella: So Hot Billionaires, #1

Hot Billionaire's Cinderella

So Hot Billionaires, Volume 1

Melody Love

Published by DM, 2020.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

HOT BILLIONAIRE'S CINDERELLA

First edition. May 25, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 Melody Love.

ISBN: 978-1393391128

Written by Melody Love.

Also by Melody Love

So Hot Billionaires

Hot Billionaire's Cinderella

Hot Billionaire Faking It

Hot Billionaire's Baby

Hot Billionaire Mile High

Hot Billionaire Professor

Hot Billionaire's Escort

Hot Billionaire Cowboy

Hot Billionaire Night

Hot Billionaire Rescued

Hot Billionaire's Story

Hot Billionaire Player

Hot Billionaire On A Train

Hot Billionaire Delivered

Hot Billionaire Changed

Hot Billionaire Played

Bride's Hot Billionaire Brother

Hot Billionaire's House

Hot Billionaire's Secret Child

Hot Billionaire Reconnected

Hot Billionaire Pictured

Hot Billionaire Troubled

Hot Billionaire Thanked

Hot Billionaire Putted

Hot Billionaire Shopped

Hot Billionaire Jerk

Hot Billionaire Remembered

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Melody Love

HOT BILLIONAIRE'S CINDERELLA

Chapter 2 – Ali

Chapter 3- Ethan

Chapter 4 – Ali

Chapter 5 – Ethan

Chapter 6 – Ali

Chapter 7 – Ethan

Chapter 8 – Ali

Chapter 9 – Ethan

Chapter 10 – Ali

Chapter 11 – Ethan

Chapter 12 – Ali

Chapter 13 – Ethan

Chapter 14 – Ali

Chapter 15 – Ethan

Chapter 16 – Ali

Chapter 17 – Ethan

Chapter 18 – Ali

Chapter 19 – Ethan

Chapter 20 – Ali

Chapter 21 – Ethan

Chapter 22- Ali

Chapter 23 – Ethan

Chapter 24 – Ali

Chapter 25 – Ethan

Chapter 26 – Ali

Chapter 27 – Ethan

Chapter 28 – Ali

Chapter 29 – Ethan

Chapter 30 – Ali

Chapter 31 – Ethan

Chapter 32 – Ali

Chapter 33 – Ethan

Chapter 34 – Ali

Chapter 35 – Ethan

Chapter 36 – Ali

Chapter 37 – Ethan

Chapter 38 – Ali

Chapter 39 – Ethan

Epilogue - Ali

Further Reading: Hot Billionaire Faking It

Also By Melody Love

HOT BILLIONAIRE'S CINDERELLA

By Melody Love

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 Melody Love

Click here to get a FREE book for a limited time

Chapter 1 – Ethan

A SOFT, WARM WIND BLEW in from the ocean, bringing with it the salty tang of the sea. I sighed and took a deep breath. The breeze tasted like tears, like sadness, like the sorrow weighing heavy on my heart.

I pushed my laptop off my lap and leaned back in my chair. The ocean spread out far across to the horizon, melding into a blur. The sky was overcast, riddled with the grey clouds so typical of this time of year. Fall was my favorite season. Everything was so much softer and quieter and more peaceful. I looked forward to the cooler nights and lowering temperatures even when summer had only just begun, and missed them as soon as the harsher cold of winter erased all the joy that could be found.

This fall, however, I couldn’t really find it in me to enjoy the weather.

The door behind me opened and footsteps approached. My personal assistant and best friend, Brian, came to my side, carrying with him two steaming mugs of coffee. You could have just said you wanted a few minutes alone.

Huh? I glanced up at him, away from the ocean, confused. What?

Brian pressed one of the cups of coffee towards me. I took it and held it in both hands, breathing in the earthy sweetness of the brew. Brian said, You said you needed coffee to give you a boost for what you were working on. But your screen is off.

I looked back at my laptop and frowned. He was right. I hadn’t touched my computer in so long that it had fallen asleep on me. Time got away from me, I suppose.

That seems to happen to you a lot these days. Brian sat down on a chair close to mine, holding his coffee and sipping at it with relish.

A silence fell between the two of us as we sat there on the balcony outside my office, watching seagulls flutter in the air over the Lower New York Bay. Boats trundled over the restless gray waves, foamy white wakes tracking behind them. If I took a closer look, I knew I’d be able to identify all the smaller leisure vessels, since most, if not all of them, belonged to wealthy individuals I knew personally. Not many of those individuals lived on Staten Island, however.

Very few people of any significance lived on Staten Island, much to the annoyance of its citizens in the past. Of all New York City’s five boroughs, Staten Island was often left behind in favor of its more popular and dramatic brethren. Local government neglected its issues in favor of more pressing ones. Part of that could simply be chalked up to the borough’s status as an island, and its southern positioning. It could be hard to care about a place that wasn’t connected to the rest of the city. It could be hard to remember a place so far removed it didn’t resemble the rest of the city at all.

In some ways, a curse. In others, a blessing.

I was making changes to better the future of the island. In the past, sitting out on the balcony with the ocean in front and the NYC skyline to the left, I felt so powerful and important and significant, certain of the positive impact I was having. To a degree, I still felt that way. I knew my efforts had touched thousands of lives.

But lately, those numbers had begun to seem hollow. And the view left me wanting. I couldn’t see the trees for the forest. Rather, I couldn’t find the one specific tree I wanted.

What’s on your mind, Ethan? Brian broke the stillness with a question I’d have preferred not to answer.

I tried to avoid doing so. It’s just more of the same. Nothing’s changed, Brian.

He scoffed. You can’t convince me of that. Not when I know you as well as I do.

I glanced over at him. He sat there in his charcoal-gray suit and tie and stared back at me with a more adult version of the childish exasperation he used to display when we were boys, whenever I didn’t want to play some game that he had created. A sudden pang of nostalgia gripped me. I grimaced and looked away, at the boats, and felt kinship with them, for they were surrounded by their own kind, yet doomed to be alone for their voyage, as it seemed I was in my own voyage called life.

Brian’s voice softened from its usual deep rasp. What’s changed, Ethan?

I pushed my fingers back through my hair. I have.

He chuckled. "I’ll have to call bullshit on that one. You become more you with every year."

I tried to smile and just barely managed it. That’s the problem. The years that pass. I just turned 30, Brian. I’m finding gray hair in my beard. I’m making changes, making waves, inspiring all generations to take on their dreams. But I’m still alone.

I’m alone too, you know. Brian lifted his eyebrows. I’m not exactly married and settled down either.

It doesn’t bother you.

That is true, he conceded. I like my freedom. I’ve never understood that about you. Never. Why are you so eager to be trapped? You’ve always obeyed the rules and done the expected. Maybe it’s time you broke out of that mold. It’s the expectations you’ve put upon yourself that make you unhappy. You’re the one who controls that, you know. Your perceptions are your own to modify as you see fit.

Why are you suddenly a psychologist? Brian was a lawyer before I hired him.

I’m your personal assistant, he responded. He drained the rest of his coffee and set the mug down on the ground. If I don’t call you out on your bullshit, who will?

Dammit, it’s not bullshit!

Hey! He looked alarmed. I was only joking with you. I’m sorry. I pushed your buttons.

The brief flare of anger died out and I flopped back in my chair again. No, I’m the one who should be sorry. This is why we work so well together, since our minds are so different. I do value your thoughts, Brian. I think I’m just having a midlife crisis. I rubbed my eyes hard with the heels of my hands. I just wish that I had someone to go home to every evening. Maybe you’re okay with being alone and that’s fine for you, but the more time I spend alone, the more I get tired of it.

Brian listened, his head tilted, his dark eyes locked on me, his boss, his employer, his friend.

I opened my eyes, my vision blurry from pushing my hands so hard against them. I’m happy that I can do what I can for entire communities. I only wish I had someone to share my life with. Someone I could talk to and spoil with my money, and laugh and cry with.

So, you want... me? Brian said.

I knew he was teasing me and rolled my eyes. A woman, Brian.

But if I was a woman?

I had to laugh. Not even if you were a woman. You wouldn’t be my type.

He chuckled. Somewhere, in an alternate universe...

I put down my cup of coffee, which had gone lukewarm at this point. I turned to him and frowned with as much severity as I could manage. Is this what you do in your spare time? Write AU fanfiction about us?

The fact that you know what AU fanfiction is tells me you need to get out more.

I agree. I grimaced. It’s difficult, though. Making a name for myself means that too many people know me. It would be way too difficult to figure out what someone’s intentions are.

Hmm. If only there was a way for you to meet someone while not being yourself.

I don’t think committing identity theft is a viable option here.

Snap. Brian snapped his fingers.

I picked up my laptop and tapped the screen to wake it up, and typed in my password. My email account jumped onto the screen, flooded with messages I needed to read and reply to. The sheer volume of the work filled me with a sort of dread, even though I really did love my job.

Hold on, Brian muttered. He got up and went back inside.

I figured he had just gotten a call and turned back to my computer. I opened up the most recent email and started reading, though it proved difficult. The words fluttered around in my vision like the seagulls out there riding the ocean winds, bobbing and spiraling in a messy swarm.

Brian returned a few seconds later, slamming the door shut.

I think I’m onto something, he announced.

What? Frowning, I swiveled around in my chair just in time for him to shove a very colorful piece of paper in my face. I leaned back and swatted at the page, trying to knock it out of his hand. What do you think you’re doing?

Careful, he scolded, clutching the paper tighter, denting the surface with his fingers. I picked this up earlier and now I’m glad I did. Look at it.

I took the piece of paper and scanned it, recognizing it for what it was right away. It was a flyer announcing a Halloween party at a community center next weekend. I looked up at stared blankly at Brian. So?

"So, this is a Halloween party! Costumes! Geez, don’t you get it? Brian gestured emphatically at the flyer in my hand, smacking the paper, which made little snapping sounds, like a miniature boat sail. At a Halloween party, you and everyone else can be in costume. You won’t be strictly you. No one will be able to instantly judge you, or try to suck up to you."

Someone would still recognize me, I pointed out, trying to ignore the treacherous niggling of hope in the pit of my gut.

Would they? Brian grinned and started pacing. No one would be expecting you! No one would be looking out for you, thinking they might spot Ethan Bryant at this random party. And if someone did eventually recognize you, maybe by that point you would have already gotten what you came for.

I hesitated.

I know it’s not a perfect plan, but it’s better than anything else you’ve got right now.

Not hard, when I don’t have any other plans.

Well then?

I don’t know, I murmured. There’s no guarantee.

When has there ever been?

Brian was right about that, for sure, yet I couldn’t help but to think that there must be another way to go about this. I liked the anonymity, but there had to be something else I could do.

Slowly, an idea formed in my mind. I got up and went to the balcony railing, gripping it in my hands. The wood was damp from the ocean winds, and a little splintery. The prickles against my palms helped to center me. What if we threw our own party?

Come again?

I’ll wear something to help disguise me. A mask, maybe. I turned back to Brian, getting more excited the longer I thought about it. And we’ll get lookalikes. Impersonators. No one will know who the real me is. But the whole point of the party will be to help me find my future wife. But I’ll be incognito, mingling with everyone else.

Holy shit, Brian said. That sounds like it’s just crazy enough to work.

We’ll have to plan fast. Halloween isn’t that far off.

Brian grinned. Leave that to me. I already have an idea.

He left before I could ask him to elaborate. I shrugged and turned back to the ocean, clutching the railing and bracing all my weight against it, struggling with logic, but struggling more with hope.

Chapter 2 – Ali

Ilay on my back and looked up at the ceiling over my tiny bedroom, certain I could make out some new brown water spots staining the corners. I closed my eyes. Moisture dripped. Not rainwater or condensation. Cold tears, sliding down my cheeks and plopping off onto the pillow. A terrible aching loneliness yawned open in my chest, wide enough to swallow me whole. All that held me back from the edge was an exhaustion that went straight to my bones, preventing me from making a move in any direction, whether good or bad.

I wished that someone, anyone would come by and talk to me, even if it was my dad, or my evil-stepmother, that wretched fairytale figure who had slipped right out of the pages of a book and into my life. Unfortunately, my parents, if they could be called parents, lived in California. The most I could do was pick up my phone and call one of them, but that also took effort and I didn’t have it in me.

So I lay there.

Aching.

Wishing things were different.

Knowing they never would be, that I was trapped in this situation, yet not floundering enough to eventually wander into true failure. I made just enough to get by. I could keep going, moving on in a straight path through this world that hadn’t the patience for people like me, people with dreams and no means by which to act upon them.

My phone buzzed on the thin mattress beside me. I groaned and flopped my heavy arm over my face. My situation being what it was, there were only a few people who could be texting me: my boss, letting me know whether she had any extra hours I could pick up; my best friend Maggie; or the spam number who wanted me to sign up for car insurance from a company I had never heard of.

And my phone buzzed again. I sighed and fumbled for it, following the vibrations until I reached it. I picked it up and held it in the air over my face, scanning the messages.

Both had come from Maggie.

Are you doing anything? Can I come over?

I frowned a bit. Maggie usually wasn’t so needy. That was my niche. I started to sit up so I could text an answer, wondering if something had happened to upset her.

A pounding echoed throughout the little house. I jumped and lost my grip on my phone and dropped it right on my nose. Pain shot through my face, red like the blood I was certain had to be oozing from my abused nostrils right about now. I sat up and put my hand to my nose and checked my fingers for moisture. Nothing yet.

The pounding continued. My heartbeat picked up as I recognized the sound as coming from my front door. The last time someone had beat on my door like that, it turned out to be a criminal running from the law after having accidentally run over his wife in her own car. That I’d chosen then to call the cops over answering the door had probably saved my life.

I wasn’t going to answer it this time either, even though it certainly would have been an easy way to ensure all my problems were taken care of.

The pounding abruptly cut off in a hollow slam, unlike anything I had ever heard before. I grabbed up my phone and turned it on, my thumb sliding shakily over to the emergency call button. Where could I go? Where could I hide? The closet wasn’t big enough. Maybe the intruder wouldn’t see me if I went under the bed.

Oops, came a murmur. It must have only been a split second since the slam, though it felt like an eternity.

I recognize that voice.

Still gripping my phone, fear and hope twined together in my heart, I stepped out into the hallway and gasped at the person standing there a short distance away in the foyer.

Ali!

Maggie! I gasped again, and clutched my heart. What the hell were you doing? How did you get in?

Maggie smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck, rustling the short bristly hairs at the base of her skull. I’m sorry, Ali. It’s just that I hadn’t heard from you in a bit and you usually text so much. I saw you were home, but then you didn’t answer my texts. I panicked.

So you broke down my front door?

Another sheepish grin. Maggie grabbed the door handle and gave it a bit of a jostling, showing me how it was still locked. I must have knocked it out of the frame from pounding on it so hard. It’s not like this house of yours is the best ever.

I shook my head and brushed past her. I unlocked the door and pushed it shut. The latch clicked into place and held just fine, and the lock still worked despite the literal beating it had just endured. Seems fine.

What’s not so fine is that your door pops right open with enough incentive, Maggie scolded. You need to get a deadbolt installed.

I snorted. Okay. Like I have enough money to not only buy a good deadbolt, but pay someone to install it for me.

I could get my brother to do it, she suggested.

Maggie, you know I’m not going to—

Maggie put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my face, her bright green eyes flashing with a mixture of pity and firmness and annoyance. A single glimpse of that brew and I knew not to mess with her. She turned me around and propelled me forward by the shoulders, guiding me to the crappy little couch my parents had left me with when they jumped ship. A firm press down made my legs buckle. I sat down, since that was clearly what my friend wanted from me.

Maggie didn’t sit. She stood over me with her arms folded, gazing down her nose at me. Though I knew her very well, having been friends since our first day of high school, I couldn’t help but to be intimidated. She had always been the more physically-inclined of the two of us, while I was the type to sit around reading nonfiction books on random subjects and doing arts and crafts. Adulthood had transformed her from a rugged tomboy to a rough beauty, with a lean stature and very short blonde hair.

Aside from being tough, she was taller than me, taller than many men even without high heels, and had womanly curves that were to die for. She had perfected a makeup look that was at once alluring and severe.

I’m not offering you charity. You’d be doing me a favor, getting the kid brother out of the house. All you’d have to do is buy the deadbolt and buy him some pizza afterwards as payment. Way cheaper than getting a company guy to do it.

It wouldn’t be fair to your brother not to pay him, I pointed out.

And? she smirked.

I laughed a little. The Ross siblings couldn’t have been more different. Maggie was driven. Her brother, Deacon, had an above-average intelligence that had earned him a free ride through his college of choice; after speeding easily through four years of school in only two, he had reverted to the state of laziness known only by people who were too smart for their own good. He was bored, mostly because he could do anything.

Maybe it would be doing him a favor, to have him come out here and work.

Fine, I sighed. Next paycheck, I’ll put some money aside for a deadbolt.

You sure you can wait that long? What if I was that criminal guy?

Slamming on my door like that? I thought you were, I retorted.

Maggie flopped down on the floor, her incredibly long legs stretching out before her. So, what’s been going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?

I’ve been looking for something I can do, I said. I pointed at some loose newspaper pages on the far end of the couch. There’s some stuff that kind of gets my interest, but none of it would help me out much, and none of it is a replacement for my job at the coffee shop. It’s just more of the same, Maggie. I’m stuck and I know it and it’s been hard to deal with lately.

If you’re really struggling, you can come stay with me, she offered, voice soft.

What about your brother?

It’d be incentive for me to kick him out. Maggie laughed.

I detected something in her laugh. A reluctance. Hearing that, I would have refused to move in with her even if that wasn’t what I already planned on saying. Deacon needed her more than I did.

Thank you, Mags. I touched her hand. But I don’t want anyone helping me out like that. And I don’t want to give up this house.

I knew you’d say that.

Can you blame me?

Sweetie, not in the least.

My parents used to live in this little house on Staten Island, moving in right around the time I was going to be born. My real parents. My biological father and mother. Mom and Dad. Mom died when I was an infant, and that left Dad to raise me, all alone. That’s always hard, but for some people, they come out of it better, changed. Unfortunately for us, Dad had no idea how to be a parent. As soon as he could, he took his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Crystal, and moved across the country, leaving me alone with this house that should have held so many memories, so much potential, but was instead a graveyard for such things.

I could have left all the bitterness behind. But I couldn’t leave the bedroom where my parents