The Crystal Slipper

By Selena Fulton

A paranormal category romance from Entangled's Covet imprint...

Sometimes you just have to believe...

A single crystal slipper. It was probably the weirdest gift librarian Celinda Branham ever received during a Christmas gift exchange. Who would even wear these in the real world? Not Celinda, wearer of sensible shoes and fairy tale naysayer. That said, she certainly has the requisite wicked stepmother, irritating stepsister, and empty bank account. Of course, if she actually believed in all that fantastical junk, she could wait for her Prince Charming...

Only Prince Charming doesn't exist.

But Preston Chandler believes in fairy tales. Oh, does he ever. All he did was spurn the advances of a certain witch, and now his sister is under a sleeping spell. And the only way to break it? Find the other glass slipper and give someone "Love's First Kiss." But when Preston finally tracks down Celinda, he's dismayed to discover that the shy librarian who owns the other shoe has no interest in anything remotely resembling magic—including love. Now he must find a way into his Cinderella's cynical heart, or lose his sister... and his only chance for true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Sep 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781633750975

Book preview

To my dear friend, Celinda. You always believed in me. I love you.

Chapter One

Break the spell.

The words became his mantra.

Preston Chandler, with the precious mahogany box clutched under his arm, took the stairs two at a time because the elevator was too slow. With each step, his heart pounded harder.

Break the spell.

The doors whooshed open as he entered the sterile hospital room where his sister lay motionless on the bed. Multiple floral arrangements filled the room, but she was unaware of their beauty. Propped up on the pillows, Ana’s dark hair flowed around her pale face. Her chest hardly rose and fell with her shallow breathing.

No change, sir. The nurse interrupted his thoughts. I’ll leave you.

No! Not after all he’d done to locate it. He swallowed his disappointment and nodded as the nurse left the room.

Ana. Preston sat beside the bed and reached for her hand. The wooden box rested on his lap. I’m here, sis.

Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition at the sound of his voice. His shoulders slumped as he searched for her pulse, and the faintest throb of her heartbeat nudged his fingertips. Barely there. His gaze shifted to the machines that monitored her vital signs. Everything normal, even to his uneducated eye.

The doctors were baffled by her condition, fueling his guilty suspicion that this was all his fault.

Preston threaded his fingers through the delicate fingers of Ana’s limp hand. I was so close, Ana, but the stupid shoes were separated. I tracked this one down through an online auction. Ugly thing.

Silence filled the room.

He hung his head. Why was he complaining? His sister lay motionless because of his actions. Anyway, the path to the other one dried up somewhere in America.

So why was he sitting here, an ocean away, with the other shoe missing?

With only a week left until the deadline, he couldn’t risk going on a wild goose chase. Maybe one shoe would work. He opened the mahogany box, lifted the lid, and pulled out a crystal slipper. Sunlight streaming in from the window struck the crystal, sending colorful prisms throughout the room. He didn’t know much about women’s shoes, but this looked impossible to wear with its four-inch heel, pink feathers, and thin pink straps. Pink feathers? The kind of shoe a lady would never wear. At least none he knew.

I brought one of the shoes, Ana. Holding his breath, he slipped it on his sister’s foot.

Nothing.

It didn’t fit, either, her foot larger than the sole of the shoe. No matter how he tried to ease her foot into the ridiculous slipper, she still slept the way she had for the last six weeks. And time was running out. Her twenty-first birthday was Saturday. If he didn’t have both crystal shoes on her feet by Saturday night…

Raven.

He’d asked the little witch what would happen if he didn’t find the slippers in time and the woman had instead handed him a scrap of paper.

Find the shoes or you’ll find out. She could stay asleep, she could wake up. Only time will tell.

When he’d begged her to lift the sleeping spell on his sister, she’d laughed at him, and then simply disappeared. Bile rose in his throat. His throat swelled and he choked—his sister was an innocent victim.

He wrapped the crystal shoe in silk and placed it into the velvet-lined box, then bent over his sister and kissed her forehead. He wiped his eyes and left the room, the wooden box tucked under his arm. In the doorway, he turned and gave the prone figure one last look. Remorse filled him, knowing he was to blame. He wouldn’t stop until his sister woke again.

I’ll be back with the other shoe, Ana. I promise.

…

Celinda Branham reached across the seat and grabbed the invitation to verify the house number. It matched the address written in her coworker’s dainty script. She frowned as she stared up at the huge two-story house that had to be at least four thousand square feet. Tamelea couldn’t afford to live in such a beautiful house on her librarian salary.

Her new boyfriend must be loaded.

Celinda couldn’t relate to having so much money, but let out a nervous breath and parked alongside several late model vehicles that lined the long driveway. An attack of nerves besieged her. Big, fancy parties were way out of her comfort zone, but she’d promised Tamelea she’d come this time.

It’s just a Christmas party. I can do this. She grabbed the small gift bag on the seat beside her and opened the car door. A cold blast of air coming off the river prompted her to draw her cardigan around her and hurry up the brick walkway and onto the large veranda of the old-style plantation home.

Except this house was neither old nor once part of a plantation.

Another icy gust encircled her. Her hand shook as she reached out to ring the bell. As nervous as she was about the party, the cold urged her inside.

You made it! Tamelea hugged Celinda and ushered her into the house. Hey, everyone, Cindy’s here.

Cindy. Internally she recoiled—she hated the nickname, but to tell the woman why would reveal too much.

Better late than never. With effort, Celinda forced what she hoped was an appropriate smile on her face. All the stares coming her way made her want to run and hide, but she drew in a deep breath for courage. Maybe after tonight Tamelea would quit cajoling her into coming to parties, since that had never been an easy way for her to meet new people.

Thank God Christmas only came once a year.

Her coworker guided her into the main living room where many guests sat with drinks in their hands. Sequins and silk made Celinda feel underdressed in her casual black slacks and cream-colored blouse. She left her sweater on.

A large Christmas tree, decked out in gold tulle and crystal ornaments, stood in the corner, reaching for the twenty-foot vaulted ceiling. White lights twinkled on the elegant tree and the combined scents of pine and cinnamon filled the room.

Quite a difference from the tiny, artificial tree in her apartment. No lights, just some glass balls she’d picked up at the dollar store when she’d bought the tree. Good enough.

Here’s your number. Tamelea pressed a small slip of paper into her hand, dragging her further into the crowded room and taking the gift bag from her hands. Tamelea placed it under the tree with the others.

Unlucky thirteen. Not that she believed in such things. Only uneducated people believed in magic and superstition.

Tamelea giggled. Somebody give this girl a drinkie-poo, she called out. I’ll explain the rules.

Drinkie-poo?

None for me, I’m driving. Celinda hoped it would be enough to deter her co-worker from giving her anything alcoholic, but it was useless. A cold glass appeared in her hand. What’s this?

Appletini. Try it, you’ll like it, said Tamelea as she stumbled to the towering blue spruce. Okay, ladies. Now that the men are all in the den playing poker, or whatever it is they’re doing in there… She snickered. "It’s time for our fun. Do you have your number? She looked around. Now where is that bag where I draw out the, um, thingies?"

Boy, Tamelea sure was different when she was drunk.

Celinda set her drink on the glass coffee table, amid some other glasses. Maybe nobody would notice she hadn’t touched it. Past experience reminded her that bad things happened when people got drunk, and she stayed away at all costs.

Okay, for those of you who’ve never been to a white elephant gift exchange, when your number is called, you introduce yourself, then either choose a gift from the Christmas tree, or steal someone else’s gift. If someone steals your gift, then it’s your turn to pick out another one from the tree. Any questions?

Seemed simple enough. Celinda gave a shy smile to the woman beside her. This party might be fun after all.

Number twenty-three! Who has number twenty-three?

Me! A woman with long blond hair exclaimed and ran up to hug Tamelea. Hi, I’m Meghan. Slathered in tons of gold jewelry that sparkled with every movement, she turned and perused the pile of pretty gifts. She took the largest gift bag, frothing with golden tissue paper and white ribbon. Everyone watched as she removed the tissue paper and pulled out a crystal vase. Oh, it’s beautiful.

Tamelea chuckled. Well, we’ll see how long you get to keep that, Megs. I just may have to steal that one from you myself.

Celinda’s eyes widened at the exchange. Fighting someone for a prize was well outside her comfort zone, and she hoped she’d get something no one else wanted. Random numbers were called, and a catfight almost ensued over the vase. Not that the other gifts were paltry items. Obviously, nobody had kept to the agreed upon price limit. After Meghan’s gift was stolen from her once again, she pranced in front of the dwindling pile of gifts.

When Meghan selected Celinda’s contribution to the party her heart beat a little faster. Who wouldn’t love the cute little battery-operated snowman? Her joy dissipated as Meghan’s excited smile curled into a sneer. Her expression said it all.

Cheap. Celinda sighed.

Thirteen!

A rush of excitement filled her as she made her way to the Christmas tree. She chose a red bag with a Santa face on the side and returned to her seat. Thank goodness someone had finished off her Appletini.

Open it! Tamelea’s face flushed with excitement. Or was it the alcohol?

Celinda pulled out the red tissue paper and stared inside.

What is it, Cindy?

There was that nickname again. She hated how that name made her feel and really needed to ask Tamelea not to use it. But not here. At a party. In front of all these people she didn’t know.

Celinda pulled out a shoe. Not an ornament or a figurine, but a real shoe. A single crystal slipper with a hot pink bow across the toe and a dangerous-looking four-inch stiletto heel, the kind of shoe a sensible woman like her would never wear, even if she had the pair. Sequins and tiny white feathers adorned either side of the pink bow.

Her fingers tingled.

Static electricity?

For a moment, the game halted as everyone stared at the shoe. But as soon as Tamelea announced another number, Celinda’s fifteen moments of fame were gone and she was grateful. As the evening wore on, she was surprised nobody wanted the crystal slipper, even though several remarked how it might be fun to drink champagne from it if it weren’t for the open toe. When the game ended, she joined the others at the buffet table, sampling the delicious food and trying to make a connection with some of the other women. Unfortunately, most seemed more interested in the latest fashions than which books hit the bestseller lists, so she found little in common with them. When the first of the guests began to leave, Celinda joined the exodus. By this time, Tamelea was snockered, and Celinda never did meet Tamelea’s new boyfriend or find out who the fabulous house belonged to.

Even though she hadn’t made any new friends, she thanked Tamelea for inviting her. She’d had fun. She made the long drive home to her quiet, efficient apartment. Not sure what she would do with a life-size crystal stiletto, she put the bag under her tree.

It sat alone beneath the branches.

She kicked off her shoes and placed them in the rack hanging behind her closet door. The rack held three pairs of shoes—a pair of sensible black pumps, a pair of comfortable brown Top Siders, and a pair of sneakers.

Curiosity about the crystal slipper urged her to boot up her computer. She retrieved the bag, pulling the item from the tissue paper. Whether or not the thing appealed to her, it seemed unique. Valuable even. Maybe she could sell it online.

She turned on her desk lamp and examined the showy slipper. No labels or stamps from some foreign country on the bottom, nothing to suggest a manufacturer’s name. The feathers were a bit dusty, so she blew on them, and sneezed.

And sneezed. About ten times in succession.

She grabbed the box of tissues and sniffed, her eyes still watering. She went to the kitchen, swallowed an allergy med, and returned to her computer to examine the shoe once more.

Why make a life-size shoe out of lead crystal? And what would she do with only one?

…

What do you mean you lost track of it? Preston shouted into the phone as his fist banged against the mahogany desktop. I pay you well, don’t I?

Yes, sir. The voice on the other end quivered.

He drew in a deep breath. Since when did he yell at his employees? The stress and worry from the last few weeks was getting to him. Coupled with Ana’s imminent birthday, he was half out of his mind with worry. He rubbed his temples and tried again. Tell me what you discovered, Joey.

I tracked the shoe down to a man named Walter Brownley from Jacksonville, Florida.

And…? Preston’s fingers drummed his desk.

Unfortunately, he died two weeks ago. I went to his estate sale, thinking I could pick it up for a little bit of nothing. Before I arrived, a dealer came and bought the whole lot. Who knew they’d sell it for two bucks to some antique store?

It took all he had not to throw his cell against the wall. In a split second, his hopes were once again dashed. For a measly two dollars I could have broken the family curse. Preston groaned. Did you at least get a description of the dealer? Something?

The dealer took everything to a place called Once Upon A Time. I figured it was our lucky break, you know? But by the time I arrived, someone had already purchased it.

Who? Preston gripped the phone. How could he come so close, only for it to disappear again?

I don’t know. She paid cash.

Great. Only nothing was great about the news. Preston counted to ten. Then twenty. You said the name of the store was Once Upon A Time? Maybe he could get a description of the buyer, and then…

Yes, sir. Shall I prepare for a flight to America?

Yes, and thank you, Joey. Preston jotted down the address. Stroking his beard, he stared at the information before him, then he walked across the room and gazed out the window of his office. A light snow began to fall, dusting the London skyline. Any other day he enjoyed the view, but the fading rays of light reminded him how quickly time was slipping away.

Sold at an estate sale for two dollars. Unbelievable. He snorted and thanked the heavens they hadn’t auctioned it off online or tossed it in the garbage.

With this fresh lead, it was time to go. Preston walked across the posh office to the wall safe and opened it. He pulled out the ornate box with his company logo, Chandler’s Chocolates, engraved on the top. The crystal slipper sparkled in his hands.

Alone, it was a useless, if expensive, item. But the pair? That was another story, and his future depended on getting his hands on its mate. After locking the safe, he returned the shoe to its case and tucked it under his arm.

No more sending his employees chasing after rumors or following false leads. He hated to tear himself away from Ana as she faded away, but he had no choice.

Sometimes, if you wanted a job done well, you needed to handle it yourself.

Chapter Two

Preston parked the car in front of a little shop called Once Upon A Time. He stepped onto the wide porch of the formerly beautiful home and opened the lead glass door. The musty smell of antiquities, combined with the scent of jasmine from the climbing vine on the porch, made an interesting combination.

A bell tinkled to announce his presence. Good. The sooner they knew he was there, the better.

May I help you? A tall, redheaded man in his early twenties stood behind the counter.

I’m looking for a particular item. Preston walked to a musty display of tchotchkes. Random salt and pepper shakers, a bowling trophy, and a plastic cup from Super Bowl XXXI cluttered the table. This was where the key to his family’s future had ended up? I was told you get some of your merchandise from estate sales.

Some. The clerk smiled. We also have individuals come in. What are you looking for?

I collect shoes. Porcelain, glass… Preston studied his face for a sign of recognition. I’m currently looking for a crystal stiletto.

Ah, we had one, but I’m afraid you’re too late. We sold that item a week ago.

Preston’s stomach lurched as he fought for control. He couldn’t afford another dead end. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Can you tell me who bought it?

The man shook his head. I had a class that day. But let me see if I can find someone else who can help you.

Yes, please. Preston forced a smile onto his face. If the clerk noticed his agitation, he didn’t say. He disappeared into the back of the store.

He grazed through the piles of doodads, bric-a-brac, and whatnots. He had no use for this junk and wondered why anyone had bought these items in the first place.

A sudden chill snaked down his spine. He didn’t see the woman enter the room from the back, but rather felt her. Preston turned, his voice rasping as he spoke. You.

A bit late, don’t you think? She laughed, her head tilted back, exposing her neck. Taunting him. His hands itched to throttle her, but he held himself back. He wasn’t a violent man, but what she’d done to his family was reprehensible. The redheaded man had returned to his place behind the register.

More importantly, he had to find the slipper.

Raven, where is it? Preston glared at the little witch.

Korey said you were looking for a glass shoe? Her lips curled into a smile, mocking him. Long black hair that hung loosely about her shoulders framed a face he once considered beautiful. She glided toward him. Her sandaled feet made no sound on the hardwood