Midnight Whispers (Midnight Manor Book 3)

Chapter 1

One

Tonight, I’ll finally meet the mystery guy—Nero, my stepsister Maude’s boyfriend.

He must be a masochist to spend so much time with her. Definitely a glutton for punishment, that’s for sure.

I lay my dress across the ironing board and turn the iron to a low setting. I’ve had to squirrel away money for months to afford this gown. Sure, it’s not designer like my stepsisters and stepmother will be wearing, but I love it. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned. A silk skirt that falls to the floor. A pale blue color that enhances my eyes. An intricate ivory-and-blue lace top with beading and crystals.

Waiting for the iron to heat up, I sit on the floor in front of my mirror to finish my makeup. The mirror was a miraculous find by the side of the road. Why someone would throw it out when there was nothing wrong other than it being outdated is crazy to me. Everyone wants something shiny and new now.

A loud knock lands on the door, and my eyebrow pencil shoots off toward my temple. My stepmother, Louise, walks into my attic room, not bothering to wait for my permission.

There’s no sense making a fuss about her intrusion. If I complain, she’ll rant and rave about how this estate became hers the minute my father died and how lucky I am that she has allowed me to live here for the past decade.

“What’s all this?” She eyes the dress like a snake eyeing its prey and slithers over to the ironing board.

“My dress for the charity event tonight.” I rub the eyebrow pencil markings and apply my blush. “Don’t worry, I didn’t use the money that I contribute to the household to pay for it. I saved my own money to buy it. It wasn’t expensive.”

I continue to work on my makeup, trying to appear casual, not wanting to look at her directly. The smallest things set her off and send her into a rage. I tread lightly after all the times her rages have resulted in me bearing bruises.

In the reflection of my peripheral vision, she turns away from her inspection of the dress and faces me.

“Dear sweet Cinder, you don’t really think you’re coming with us tonight, do you?” Her laughter echoes through the sparse space. Nothing good ever comes from her cackling as though I’m an idiot. “This is Maude’s big night, not yours. She thinks Nero might propose.”

“That’s why I want to go. To wish her my best and celebrate with everyone.” Lie.

I hate my stepsisters as much as I hate the gray-haired woman in front of me. The only reason I remain in this home is because the estate holds so many happy memories from my childhood with my father and mother, when she was alive. Until Louise sank her claws into my father. This home is the only one I’ve ever known, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

The real reason I want to go tonight is because I’ve never been to a ball. I want to mingle and dance and feel pretty and just be outside of my regular life for a few hours. I don’t want to be Cinder who strips at the club and slings drinks at a dive bar only to hand over her money to her stepmom in order to keep the estate going. I want to be the woman I am inside my head. A woman with hopes and dreams, who looks toward the future with excitement and curiosity.

“You expect me to believe that?” Louise scoffs. “You’re probably seething with jealousy that she’s landed a Voss brother. You don’t wish her well any more than I wish you were my biological daughter.”

Her words are a slap across the face, and a stark reminder of how alone I am in the world since my father passed.

“I won’t be any trouble, I promise.” I hate the begging note in my voice, but I’m desperate to have this one night to fuel my dreams for years to come.

“You won’t be trouble because you aren’t going.”

Tears build in the corners of my eyes, although I try with everything in me to not reveal the hurt she causes me. The woman gets off on me begging, and this is the one occasion I’m willing to give her what she wants.

“Please, Louise.” I put my hands in a prayer pose.

She rolls her eyes. “When was the last time you washed the draperies? If you get it done, and there’s time after, you can join us.”

My shoulders sag. There’s no way all the draperies will fit in our machine at the same time, which means loads of laundry and hours of work.

“I’ll never be able to finish in time.”

“There’re always complaints coming from your mouth. Fine, come then, but I want those draperies done tomorrow before you go work your shift at that deplorable place.”

I bolt up. “Oh, thank you so much!” My excitement dies when tendrils of smoke rise up behind her. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” She slowly turns toward the ironing board.

I rush around her and gasp. The iron lies flat on the front of my dress, smoke billowing out.

“Oh dear, how’d that happen?” Louise says.

I pull the iron off. The light blue silk is charred. Wetness pools in my eyes, and I whip toward Louise. “It’s ruined.”

“Such a pity. I guess you won’t be joining us after all.” She doesn’t look at me and leaves the room, her laughter ringing down the hall.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and the tears fall down my cheeks. My chest aches as if a boulder is sitting on it. All I wanted was one night, one night to have fun and feel free. She couldn’t even let me have that.

A few minutes later, I cou downstairs. I leave my room and look over the banister at the entry foyer. My stepsisters are talking and laughing, dressed in their gorgeous and expensive dresses, checking their appearances in the ornate mirror. Maude’s red hair is pulled back, and she’s dressed in a navy blue dress that I could never afford, a silver mask dangling from her hand.

Tonight’s event is a masquerade ball the Voss family holds every year to raise funds for charity, though from the rumors I’ve heard about the Voss family, they have more than enough money to match whatever they raise.

Dru is beside her, her black curls dangling nearly to her waist, wearing a green dress that’s equally as gorgeous and expensive as Maude’s. She sees me from the corner of her eye and flicks her hand, grabbing Maude’s attention.

Maude turns, and her lips form a cunning smile. “Heard about your dress. Too bad.”

“Don’t act like you care,” I say with as much venom as I can muster.

She blinks rapidly and brings her hand to her chest as if I’ve offended her. “Why, of course I do, sweet sister. Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to have you there witnessing what you’ll never have—a rich, successful, handsome man. Bet Tits Tassels doesn’t have a lot of those.”

She and Dru bend over laughing. My fists clench on top of the banister. I’m only working at the strip club to be able to meet their financial demands, but they love to shove it in my face as though I choose to dance there. If Louise had let me go to college after high school, I could have worked somewhere else and made as much money as she demanded.

My stepmom walks into the foyer, her heels clicking on the stone. She follows her daughters’ gazes up to me. “Don’t wait up. Who knows how long we’ll be out celebrating.”

They all laugh and walk out the door. The bang sounds like a prison cell door, locking me in here.

Instead of sinking to the floor and crying, I return to my room. The only thing worse that could happen would be to accidentally burn down the whole house.

I unplug the iron and stare at my ruined dress, wishing there was some way to salvage it. The burn mark is front and center. An idea comes to me the more I inspect it. If I cut from the burn mark down off of the dress and resew the hem, it might work. The front would show my legs and be way shorter than the back, but that’s a dress style. Not what I imagined, but it would still be gorgeous.

Yanking the dress from the ironing board and grabbing my sewing supplies, I get to work. An hour later, the dress is finished and I stare at my reflection, twirling around to check all angles. Damn, I did a good job. Now I just have to drive there and somehow get inside. I’ll be late, since I overhead my stepsisters and stepmom talking about taking Nero’s private plane, but I can drive fast. I’m sure I was never added to the guest list, but I’m confident I can charm my way into the ball.

One skill I’ve learned from working at the strip club is how to charm men out of their money. Surely I can sweet-talk my way into a party.