Secret Cinderella (The House of Morgan Book 16) Page 2

  Jack elbowed her and said, “Ms. Pitts is why I enrolled to get a mechanical degree. In one year, I’m out of here.”

  And probably leaving Pittsburgh and her too. If he found a job that is. Maybe if he gotten into the plumbing trade…that industry wasn’t going away and local so he’d be near her always. She needed to let that wish go fast as it wasn’t what he wanted. She forced her shoulders to relax. Charlotte wouldn’t have anyone to talk to during the day, but she’d survive. This past year he’d had a string of girlfriends, leaving her alone a few times anyhow. She’d learned a long time ago that she was the kind of girl who bounced back. “That’s the only thing I’m jealous about.”

  His gaze narrowed as he asked, “What’s that?”

  She continued moving the apples from the box. “I wish I had an end-date for when everyone finds love, marries, and gets out of the store. A deadline.”

  Jack shook his head like he didn’t approve, but that didn’t matter. One day it would happen—she’d run this store and improve it. Jack would eventually fall for some girl so hard that he left too. She’d learned to ignore the pings of jealousy. When she had a minute for herself, she jotted down her ideas, they ran from simple to complex, in order to turn the store around.

  They finished the apples and Jack carted the empty boxes away.

  She intended to get a coffee with Jack and stare into his empathetic brown eyes for a while, but Nancy had her arms crossed and the bathroom cleaning schedule in her hand. “Charlotte, please clean up the toy aisle.”

  At least she wasn’t on toilet duty today as someone else on staff had that fun assignment. She nodded fast. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She started to leave but Nancy raised her eyebrow so Charlotte stayed put. “And Charlotte?”

  Charlotte batted her eyes as adrenaline rushed through her. “Yes?”

  Nancy held the schedule at her side and Charlotte glanced at it, hoping she wasn’t back on bathroom duty. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

  Her heart raced fast. “Yes?”

  Nancy folded the paper in her hand and Charlotte stilled. “I know I’m hard on you sometimes.”

  Understatement of the year, but Charlotte simply said, “Yes.”

  Nancy’s voice softened and she leaned in, almost like they were family as she said, “I know the store has suffered because I’d never managed a store before I married your father. Until he died, I never had to work on anything but supervising my hair stylist.”

  Right. Charlotte knew that, and it was why she’d pitched in so much but she hadn’t expected her “help” to turn into forever work. She swallowed and said, “I understand.”

  Nancy’s lips pressed together and she stared so hard at Charlotte that Charlotte’s face heated. “I don’t think you do,” her stepmother said. “I need to ensure my daughters enjoy the life I lost when I married into middle class.”

  Charlotte had heard the stories Nancy had told her daughters about a life with mansions and servants, but that all seemed so… strange. Her hands had only ever known work, not expensive manicures. “And I wish you, Mickey, and Linda every success.”

  Nancy tilted her head in shock. “Why?”

  Seriously? Charlotte lifted her chin. “Because then I get the store and we’ll all be happy.”

  Nancy snapped to end their tête-à-tête. “Well, get back to work in the toy section.”

  Her stepmother strode off with that bathroom schedule in her hand. Maybe Jack was right that there was a world outside the store. Maybe life would be better if she just walked away, but she couldn’t let her father’s store turn into another failed shop. Charlotte would have nothing left. So, she’d win against her stepmother and her stepsisters. There was no other choice.

  Chapter 2

  Charlotte’s words echoed in Jack O’Conner’s mind. A deadline for falling in love had already passed for him. He’d fallen for Charlotte years ago, only he’d never told her.

  She’d kept him in the friend-zone and he had no idea how to change the dynamic. If he’d met her now, he would ask her on a date and kiss her until there was no way she’d see him as Jack.

  But unfortunately he’d grown up with the prettiest girl ever, and been her best friend first.

  She knew when he’d read comics, or gone to a fan con to nurture his inner nerd.

  Charlotte’s smile kept him happy even if he didn’t like his job. He stopped to pick up dinner since tonight was one of those rare nights where all of the O’Conner clan would be together and not off living their lives.

  He packed the pizzas into the backseat of his brown car that was two decades old then texted his mother he was on his way.

  Mission accomplished, though it took him three tries to get his car motor to turn on. He headed home on bumpy back roads and parked on the street of the cul-de-sac where they lived now.

  A silver Aston Martin was parked in the driveway.

  No one in his family had that car. No one could afford it. Jack's shoulders were tight as he carried the pizza boxes through the garage to head right into the kitchen and placed them on the counter. His mother, Patricia, immediately dragged him toward the living area.

  A dark-haired Italian man at most ten years older than him sat in the slightly scratched accent chair in their living room--it needed new stuffing, and the wood a polish.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of this until his mom said, “Jack, this is Antonio Morgan.”

  He felt the blood drain from his face. Charlotte always said shock made him turn pasty. His voice was rough when he asked, “Morgan?”

  His mother tapped her breastbone like she did when she was considering her options. “Yes, he’s Mitch Morgan’s son.”

  The name he’d thought he’d never hear again. The man whose funeral had been televised like a presidential mourning when he’d deserved to be buried without a marker. He met his mother’s blue eyes. “I thought we weren’t contacting them.”

  Outside on the deck in the backyard he heard the voices he’d been excited to hear as they laughed and whispered. His mother said, “Your father is dead and Finn, Max, William, and Lucy have already spoken to Antonio. He’s here to talk about the rest of his brothers and sisters.”

  If Antonio was still here and the others were in back having fun… Jack had missed something big. His eyes widened as he stared at the dark-haired stranger and said, “Just talk.”

  His mother gave him a conspiratorial smile like she understood what he was feeling when she absolutely couldn’t. She took his hand and led him out like a child, speaking loudly to their guest who now stood. “Antonio, this is my son you’ve not met yet, Jack.”

  The man held out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you Jack.”

  If he didn’t shake back, was he the rude one? Jack’s heart raced. Life was about to shift and not for the better, but the winds of change brushed against his skin. “So you’re here to open the old fancy house?”

  His mother hovered behind him, clearly listening.

  Antonio looked up at him and shrugged. “Yes and no. Please sit down. You’re quite tall.”

  Yeah, Jack towered over most people. He plopped on the couch. “I used to play basketball for fun--I never enjoyed it as much as my brothers.”

  Antonio’s nose curled when he glanced at the threadbare carpet they’d bought at Goodwill years ago, where Jack and his siblings all used to sit and read. There were good memories with that carpet.

  Antonio said, “Look, you, your sister, and brothers have inherited billions each.”

  Billions? The number was astronomical and unreal. It would pay for the all the mechanical needs of his car… even a brand new model would never compare to Antonio’s silver beauty outside.

  And it wouldn’t help him get Charlotte out of her store. Those were the two things he worried about. “I don’t understand.”

  Antonio folded his hands in front of him like he was about to sell him on some fantasy that couldn’t be true. “My… our half-brother,
Peter Morgan, has been going through our father’s will. There were some surprises, like your family. I volunteered to fly out and meet everyone.”

  Charlotte might never talk to him again if she knew this about him. She’d consider him a liar for never explaining about his father. Then again, he hadn't thought he’d take a dime of Morgan money. It wasn’t like he had a shot with her anyway, not really.

  He sat back and stared at the portrait his mother had somehow managed to get where all five of her children smiled at the store photographer at the same time. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  Antonio widened his legs, his hands clasped between his knees. “Look, every half-sibling or full-sibling we have hates our father, except me. You’ll find much in common with the others.”

  That was different. Jack’s eyebrow rose. “Except you?”

  Antonio gazed around the well-used furniture of the room and walls with chips in the paint when he said, “I think in some ways our father was brilliant.”

  Brilliant wasn’t a word he’d use to describe a man who never stayed long and never checked on any of them once Mom had ended their relationship.

  Money wasn’t the way to get what he wanted anyhow, which was Charlotte. He went to get up as he said, “Well, I have to go.”

  His mother held his hand and stopped him cold when she said, “Your siblings all want their inheritance and the rest of the Morgans are flying to Pittsburgh this weekend to meet us in a party atmosphere.”

  The estate at the top of the hill. This was too much. He squared his shoulders and said to his half-brother, who looked nothing like him, “Our father used to throw fancy parties. We all remember them and I was only six.”

  Technically that might not be true. Max and Lucy were both younger than him, but Antonio didn’t need to know all the details.

  Antonio lowered his head. “Your sister Lucy escaped a hard life because your mother took off with the five of you.”

  He turned toward his mother. “I remember my father leaving.”

  Her face was taut and her freckles were vibrant, as usual, but she gave a curt nod and said, “You were six. Antonio’s right. I made the choice.”

  So maybe the mind of a child wasn’t perfect, but he clearly remembered the door slamming and being driven to the two-story, three-bedroom house they were sitting in now.

  Antonio sipped water from a Steelers mug. “Your half-sister Victoria had her bambina stolen from her. Your half-sister Elizabeth grew up in an all-girl school, never seeing her family. Your half-sister Catherine was given away for adoption and Aurelia, my sorellina, was kidnapped off the bus. We found out years later she too was given up for adoption.”

  All those names sounded familiar but he heard his sister laughing on the deck, safe and sound. “That sucks.”

  His mother was stoic, like a soldier, when she said, “And why I left your father, Jack. I wanted to keep Lucy safe, more than stay with your father who I knew never loved me. I remember hearing about Fiona and her daughter… I couldn’t let that happen to my baby girl.”

  Seriously, how had his father gotten presidents to attend his funeral? He should be rotting. His mother running to protect her baby was unimaginable. He put his hands on his knees. “Good.”

  Antonio, with his rich Italian accent, said, “Every Morgan half-sibling we have will be here this Friday night. The money you inherited will be in your account by the end of the week. We find that sticking together keeps us all safe.”

  Together was an O’Conner thing too, as he’d never gone a day without seeing his siblings. “But I finish college next year. I don’t want the money.”

  His mother squeezed his hand and he dutifully followed her back to the kitchen, leaving As Jack stayed with his mom, Antonio told the rest of the family, “Look, don’t live in debt. And don’t judge your half-siblings on the memory of your father. My sister Aurelia worked in a department store for a while before she bought the chain.”

  The people who garnered too many mentions in podcasts or fashion nonsense his sister paid attention to… they were his half-blooded relatives. His mind, as usual, went to Charlotte. He’d never win her with money.

  Finishing school and having her with him had been his goals for years. He shook his head. “I don’t want to do this.”

  Antonio walked in with the blue mug and left it on the counter next to the fresh pizzas. He nodded like he’d go and said, “Well, I hope we meet again on Friday.”

  His mother waved goodbye. Jack kept his silence as Antonio walked past the Irish blessing about the road meeting him that hung near the door and headed out.

  The Aston Martin purred and the rest of his family outside quieted down, listening to the car drive off.

  His mother took the mug off the counter and placed it in the sink as the backdoor opened. Max called out, “Jack!”

  Lucy waved for him to join them outside as she said, “You’re the last home.”

  He grabbed a paper plate and served himself three slices of hot pepperoni. He stepped out onto the deck. Green leaves rustled from the blowing wind as he said, “I didn’t know there was a family meeting. I wouldn’t have stopped for pizza.”

  “Mom thought she’d do better talking to us in person.” William, his older brother, made a face like he’d just seen an angel. “Did you bring any home?”

  The smell of the warm, cheesy pizza somehow made today real as the news seemed like some fantasy. He pointed to their mother who was making plates for the rest of them. “Yeah, there are more boxes in the kitchen.”

  They all filed toward the table and chairs with their plates. Max said, “Better to have this talk over dinner.”

  Jack took his plate to the dining room where he’d pretty much sat in the same spot since they’d moved into this house. His siblings and mother all came in and William handed him a Guinness now that he was old enough to have one. Jack opened it. Once everyone was seated, he glanced at the others and asked, “So what’s going on? How come none of you threw him out?”

  William bit into his slice and put the rest down. “Look, Finn’s student loans are only getting higher for medical school. My job at the airport was just automated away. Max doesn’t have a clue what he wants to do, never mind, study, and Lucy is still in high school. Money will change our lives.”

  Growing up, William had railed against ever mentioning the Morgan name. They’d all hid that name on their birth certificates, going by their mother’s instead. He put his beer down. “But it’s our father’s money.”

  William nodded. “Yes, but he’s long dead now.”

  Money solved a lot of immediate concerns. He took a sip of his beer and tried to understand. Charlotte wouldn’t be impressed with cash, but she wouldn’t hate him for being rich. He’d have to find another way to get her attention, since his plan to win her over wasn’t working. He met his mother’s gaze. “And you want this?”

  Patricia put her beer down and gave one curt nod, then leaned closer to the table. “I am curious to meet Isabelle, the wife he said was dead, and Fiona, who always seemed so glamourous when we were all young.”

  It was hard to imagine his mother jealous, but those words made it sound like she wished she was different. Patricia O’Conner was the salt-of-the-earth type, on the skinny side and short who hardly ever bothered with makeup. He sipped his dark beer. “All right, I’ll go to this party.”

  “Great,” Max said, like everything was fine now.

  And maybe for the rest of them it would be fine. Jack was the only one who’d had regrets out of them. But maybe the best way to show Charlotte he cared about her and her situation was to change himself. And billions of dollars meant he could afford a life he’d never dreamed possible when his father was alive.

  Chapter 3

  Charlotte never greeted the customers at the front of the store. That was Linda’s job, especially if the customer was male and handsome.

  Mickey often took over, if that was the case, but they’d been bickering and mis
sed their chance as they let the most gorgeous man Charlotte had ever seen slip past them.

  In a way he reminded her of Jack in his face but this man was darker and more fierce.

  His gray pants fit so well they had to be tailored and looked soft as real silk and not the store’s polyester blends.

  Wow. His brown eyes stirred something in her that no boy ever had. Those lips probably knew exactly how to make her toes curl from a kiss, like in all the movie scenes she secretly loved.

  And…she shouldn’t stare at him from the back of the aisle like she’d never seen a man before.

  He turned toward her and heat rose in her face. In this moment she wished she… no, that was silly. She didn’t need to be pretentiously pretty like her stepsisters. Charlotte adjusted her blue vest like it was a suit of armor and asked with her head up, “Can I help you?”

  He nodded and she stepped closer. He smelled good from ten feet away. “Yes, I need to get a bottle of water.”

  Zap. There. For a second his smile was exactly the same as Jack’s. It must have been a memory… well she wasn’t sure but it must have been something else. She pointed behind her. “Sure, the water is this way.”

  He walked beside her and his walk wasn’t just a walk but some sort of graceful slide, and she wasn’t sure those black leather loafers were enough to protect his feet from the linoleum that wasn’t worthy of him. “Grazie per l'aiuto, sei un angelo. Can I ask you one more thing?”

  Get a grip. Italian isn’t your language. Besides, you’ll turn into Linda or Mickey if you don’t. The thought whipped her out of her reverie and she said, “Sure.”

  He motioned with his regal nose toward the front where neither Linda nor Mickey milled around today. “Where is the nearest gas station?”

  She met his brown hues and this time didn’t fly off on a daydream. “Just down the side road. It’s about a quarter-mile from here.”