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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

CINDERELLA’S GUIDE TO FINANCIAL INDEPENDENCE

PRINCE CHARMING PITFALLS

MONEY IS POWER

GENERAL GUIDELINES FOR ALL CINDERELLAS

GUIDELINES FOR CINDERELLA’S PLANNING TO MARRY

PRIOR TO MARRIAGE

DURING MARRIAGE

DURING OR AFTER DIVORCE

PRINCE NOT SO CHARMING SERIES FOR WOMEN IN THEIR 20’S

PRINCE NOT SO CHARMING SERIES FOR WOMEN IN THEIR 30’S

PRINCE NOT SO CHARMING SERIES FOR WOMEN IN THEIR 40’S AND BEYOND

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

Resources

Sources

About the Author

Introduction

For over twenty years, I have worked with countless women who represent a wide range of experiences and backgrounds. What I have found is that, regardless of whether someone is a corporate executive or stay-at-home mom, a woman’s dream of finding her own Prince Charming is near universal. We all wish for that perfect love! But after hearing story after story of disappointment and heartbreak in relationships, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that Prince Charming exists only in fairy tales.

Despite the professional boundaries that women continue to break through as we become CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, senators, state governors, high-profile athletes, and military leaders, women continually fall prey to the consequences of what I call the “Prince Charming syndrome.”

Many of us are cast under the spell of finding the “perfect mate”—someone who will fulfill us romantically, financially, and emotionally. In and of itself, there is nothing wrong with this aspiration. After all, the union between two people who love one other is the bedrock of our society. The issue, however, comes when women cede control of their financial lives and emotional well-being to someone else. I am referring not just to women who are financially dependent on a breadwinner or have little monetary means on their own or both. I am also including doctors, lawyers, business leaders, and others in prominent roles within their professions and communities. For example, I have met professionals and business owners that are victims of verbal or physical abuse.

Listening to heartbreaking stories motivated me to provide tools to empower women. By combining the insight I have gained working with clients who represent diverse backgrounds with my experience as a CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER™ professional, I have reached the following three conclusions:

1. Giving Prince Charming full financial control also hands over your power. When someone has control over your financial future, you are vulnerable to a financial crisis. Counting on Prince Charming to pay the bills exposes you to being controlled financially or otherwise. Knowledge and involvement in the daily expenses and income will help prevent becoming a victim.

2. Anything can happen to Prince Charming, so be prepared. He can die, become disabled, be a spendthrift, or turn out to simply be a jerk. Relationships may be perfectly romantic in the beginning. The unfortunate truth is that they often come to an end—given the current divorce rate is over 50 percent.

3. When you are financially independent, you are better equipped to deal with the emotional devastation of a breakup. Getting over the loss of Prince Charming, in and of itself, is tough enough. But it is exponentially more difficult when you are dealing with a breakup and being broke.

Rather than view these as gloom-and-doom relationship realities, I see them as a call to action to fully embrace our current societal role. In fact, it seems we are at an unprecedented historical moment. Take women of my mother’s generation, for example. At the time, they were obligated to follow cultural and societal roles that kept them at home, or if they were part of the workforce, they earned paltry wages. Fast-forward to today: we are educated, well compensated, and thus free to take on near-endless opportunities in our personal and professional lives.

Prince Not So Charming was written to entertain, inspire, and shed light on the consequences of giving one’s power to a boyfriend, spouse, or significant other. Although the story is a work of fiction, its message rings true to all of us who have loved, lost, and hope to love again. Lastly, my wish is that this book plays a modest part in the paradigm shift that I see taking place in society today—one where women have unprecedented opportunities to lead romantically, financially, and emotionally fulfilling lives. I am thrilled to embark on this journey with you, and I sincerely hope this book will motivate and inspire positive change. Together, we can begin making a difference in the world, starting today.

Chapter 1

“Help me!” she screamed. Cinderella stood on a cliff overlooking jagged rocks and an endless sea. She was running away from something dark and menacing, but she could not identify exactly what the frightful figure was. Her toes gripped the cliff’s edge, and her heart pounded so hard she could hardly form a thought. In an instant, Cinderella’s footing gave way, and she slid down the cliff, saved only by a branch that stuck out from a crevice. She clung to it with all her might as her legs dangled in midair. “I can’t hold on much longer!” she cried to the heavens.

Cinderella bolted upright. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she felt the safety of the mattress beneath her. The morning sun and the birds chirping outside signaled that the nightmare was over. For months, Cinderella—Cindi for short—had been experiencing dreams like these. I’m probably just stressed out, she told herself.

Like the fairy-tale character, Cinderella Patterson had flowing blond hair, porcelain skin, and clear blue eyes. Many people admired her for her kindness, and she worked hard to create a happy life for her seven-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn, and herself. A single mom, Cindi lived with Kaitlyn in a cozy house near the coast of southern Florida. Lush palm trees lined the street leading up to 23102 Marina Circle.

According to those closest to her, Cindi led an idyllic life. But like the classic fairy tale’s Cinderella, she faced many challenges. Cindi played multiple roles: She was a single mom, a loyal friend, a fashion designer, and a business owner. While juggling her varied responsibilities, she tried to maintain a social life, though it became more difficult with each passing day.

Her daughter, Kaitlyn, brought her joy and unconditional love. Her best friend, Anne, provided her much-needed support. During tough times, she sobbed in Anne’s embrace, unabashedly expressing her sadness. Other times, she and Anne sat with each other in their pajamas, surrounded by fluffy pillows and fashion magazines, while talking about life’s ups and downs, sipping Cakebread, and nibbling on fine chocolates. They spent countless hours analyzing their relationships and wondering if they would ever find the man of their dreams. Both wanted to find that special someone, each one’s version of Prince Charming, who would bring them love and happiness.

As far as work was concerned, ever since Cindi was a little girl, she had dreamed of designing elegant evening wear. In fact, she was only seven years old when she began filling notebooks with sketches of beautiful gowns. It was a dream she had held onto throughout her fashion-design courses in college. After her studies, a series of lucky career breaks bolstered her belief in her design skills. At one point, she had aspirations to be the designer for A-list celebrities. Recently, however, her confidence had diminished.

Over the past few years, Cindi’s self-esteem had reached an all-time low, which caused a lack in creativity. She was embarrassed to admit it, but it had been a long time since she had designed a dress that she was truly proud of. To her disappointment and frustration, her latest designs were unimaginative and lacked the sparkle and flair that had made her previous collection so extraordinary. Her current state gnawed at her, as did the endless stream of questions and doubts that kept her awake at night. If I can’t come up with fresh ideas, how long will I be able to stay in business? And if I go out of business, what will that mean to my daughter and me?

Cindi often thought that finding love again would provide the inspiration she desperately needed. But her options seemed limited. She tried to encourage herself by recalling her mother’s words of wisdom: “There’s a lid for every pot.” At the same time, she began doubting whether she would ever find the perfect fit.

Her list of concerns weighed heavily on her the evening she met Anne at their favorite Miami restaurant, Las Palmas. They sat at their usual table on the outdoor terrace, sipping the restaurant’s famous pomegranate margaritas.

“You okay tonight?” Anne asked. “You seem distracted.”

Cinderella could always count on her best friend’s ability to sense when something was wrong. “I’m just worried,” Cindi sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “You know, the usual stuff. Worried about my business. Worried about how blocked I am. Worried about making sure Kaitlyn gets a good college education and, of course, worried I’m never going to date or fall in love with anyone again.”

Anne smiled. “Oh, you’ll date again. The question is: Will you date anyone who deserves you?”

Cindi felt fortunate to have a friend like Anne. Friday-night margaritas with her best friend were the highlight of her week. Together, they’d spent many hours venting about their jobs, comparing notes on the challenges they faced, and dishing about the men—or the lack of them—in their lives.

“Sweetie, you’re going to need a superman to keep up with you!” Anne said. “He’s going to have to be creative, driven, beyond smart, and great with kids because that angel of yours deserves a dynamite dad. He’s gotta be drop-dead gorgeous—and, of course, amazing in bed!”

“Cheers to that!” Cinderella said as she raised her margarita in the air. The two clinked their frosty beverages. “And more to the point, the kind of man who will treat me with respect—a real partner in life.”

“In other words, utterly charming,” Anne said.

“Prince Charming,” Cindi added, “if he exists.”

“Seriously,” Anne said, raising an eyebrow, “I’m not sure he exists … at least, I haven’t found him yet. And even if he does, he’s not going to rescue you. That’s why I think you should focus on yourself and creating fabulous clothes again. It’s your gift. And no man, Prince Charming or otherwise, is going to help you do that. But he might inspire you!”

They laughed in sync.

“You’re right. I don’t actually expect someone to sweep in on a white horse and make everything better. Besides, I’m sick of dating. In fact, I’m over it,” Cinderella said.

She had been on only a handful of dates since her divorce. At Anne’s insistence, she tried meeting men online, but the results were disappointing: Nearly every guy was uninteresting, unattractive, or just plain boring. While she did not expect all of them to be GQ models or as good looking and athletic as David Beckham, she also didn’t want a couch potato who thought a fun night was getting wings and beer at Applebee’s while watching ESPN. Where are the Renaissance men? Sexy, smart, handsome, chivalrous, and romantic men who know how to sweep a girl off her feet and make her feel like the most amazing and beautiful woman in the world. Maybe they’re make-believe and only exist in fairy tales, she decided. Or maybe I’m just too picky, she often thought.

“This is no good. We have to find a way to boost your self-esteem,” Anne said.

“I’m not sure there’s any hope for me,” Cindi said.

Anne frowned. “I hate your ex for making you doubt yourself. You’ve bought all the nonsense Richard said about you—hook, line, and sinker. You’re one of the most creative, and talented women I know. Any man would be lucky to have you in his life. And, you have a figure to die for.”

“He used to call me fat,” Cindi said. She’d always been curvaceous, and she wished she were more willowy and tall, like Anne.

“What are you talking about?” asked Anne. “You’re beautiful and voluptuous, and men love that! Contrary to the fashion world, men love curves.”

“I appreciate your support; I really do. But you’re my best friend,” Cindi said. “You’re supposed to say those things.”

“Sure, I’m biased, but I’m also the first one to tell you areas in your life that need attention. In fact, right now, that area is you. You need to be the strong woman you are, Ms. Cinderella,” Anne said.

Cindi smiled. But it was followed by a hint of sadness. “I really thought I’d made it through the worst of it,” said Cindi. Tears began to fill her eyes. She thought by now she had overcome the dreadful things Richard had said and done.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were married to him for years and raised a daughter together. You can’t expect to get over something like that overnight. And it’s totally understandable for it to impact other areas of your life, too,” said Anne.

“You’re right. I guess the emotional toll has been affecting my creativity in ways I haven’t even been aware of.”

“Richard is nothing but a self-centered, egotistical loser who doesn’t deserve your attention. Even thinking about him is giving him an ounce of control,” Anne said.

***

Cindi had sailed into “happily ever after” with the wrong man. He seemed like the perfect mate. But a mere three years into their marriage, she discovered that he had been cheating on her with a younger version of her.

When she confronted her husband, Richard didn’t even bother hiding his infidelity. Instead, he told her that she didn’t own him and that, because he was the breadwinner, she had no right to tell him what to do. She knew she owed it to her daughter and herself to divorce. But the divorce wasn’t easy and only intensified Richard’s worst qualities. In fact, there were times when Cindi had been afraid for her safety when he went into his rages.

To make matters worse, Richard sullied her name with vicious lies to their mutual friends. According to his accounts, he was a victim of a jealous and painfully insecure wife who demanded that he work harder in order to feed her insatiable spending appetite. She had heard through mutual friends that he repeatedly called her a dumb, talentless woman who couldn’t succeed without clinging to the coattails of someone successful and rich like him. By the time he was finished with her in court, Cindi believed she was worthless.

***

At five feet seven inches tall, Cinderella was stunning but didn’t know it, which in Anne’s mind only added to Cindi’s appeal. Her best friend rested her hand on Cindi’s arm.

“Sweetie,” Anne said, “no wonder you’re having a hard time designing beautiful things. You can’t expect to be creative until you feel confident and comfortable in your own skin.”

Cindi felt tears well in her eyes. Dammit, don’t cry, she told herself. She was tired of feeling inadequate.

Their waiter arrived at the table and took their food order.

“The only one who’s holding you back is you,” Anne continued. “It’s time to shoot for the stars! Design the next Academy Awards gown for the diva du jour. Now’s the perfect time … before you get involved with someone new. That way, you’ll enter a relationship from a place of power and as a real partner—a confident person who already has a fabulous life.”

“You’re so right,” Cindi said. “But sometimes I feel overwhelmed. If I’m not creating new designs, I have no product to sell. And if I have no product, how can I grow my business? I’ve been supporting myself for several years without Richard’s help, and I think I’ve done a pretty good job. At the same time, it is so stressful that sometimes I feel like giving up.”

Cindi licked some salt off the rim of her margarita glass and put it down. “I guess that’s where the Prince Charming fantasy comes in,” she confessed. “It would be nice to have a partner to share the burden, the bills, maintaining the house, and Kaitlyn’s school stuff.”

“No doubt, it would be nice to have a good partner in life,” Anne said. “I think of it more like a bonus—if it happens, great. But it shouldn’t stop us from having a fabulous life now.”

“I agree. Then again, I thought Richard would make an excellent partner, and look how he turned out,” Cindi said.

“Hey, let me tell you a secret. As you know, I work with dozens of high-powered, successful women. They seem to have the whole world at their fingertips. But what’s surprising is even the most sophisticated and beautiful women are under the spell of believing that Prince Charming exists, and most of them are trying to find him. Sometimes I wonder if the fairy tales have done us more harm than good.”

Anne was a talented financial planner. She was passionate about creating the connection between being an accomplished woman and maintaining financial literacy. In other words, she believed that women needed to know how to take care of themselves financially, mentally, emotionally, and physically before finding a partner in life.

“Believe me,” Cinderella said, “based on the recent batch of sketchy characters I met on the dating site, I’m not expecting to find Prince Charming anytime soon.”

Anne grinned. It was one of her characteristic big smiles that lit up her entire face. Cindi’s best friend had a gorgeous smile. Her long brown hair was thick and luxurious, and the rich color matched her large eyes, which always shone with excitement as if she’d just made an amazing discovery. Anne was one of the strongest, most independent women Cindi knew.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Anne said. “You don’t need Prince Charming!”

Just then the waiter appeared with their Mexican sampler. Right away, both women began nibbling on their favorite appetizers while enjoying their evening together. As the sky darkened, the terrace filled with more diners.

“I’ll tell you something funny, though,” Cindi said, brushing her silken hair out of her eyes. “I know I’ve practically given up on finding Prince Charming—but it just so happens that I’m going to a ball tomorrow night.”

Chapter 2

Every February, Florida’s biggest charities combined to host the Springtime Brave Cherubs Charity Ball, a star-studded, black-tie affair to raise money for children battling cancer. It was held at Vizcaya Museum and Gardens.

The event was lavish—tickets started at $500—and the guest list comprised the state’s Who’s Who, including entrepreneurs, artists, executives, lawyers, actors, pro athletes, philanthropists, local politicians, and photographers whose images would appear in the week’s society pages. The gala was the place to see and be seen while rubbing elbows with power players.

Which is exactly why, if left to her own devices, Cindi would have avoided the ball altogether. This was the first ball she’d been to since the breakup, and she was only attending because her publicist had ruthlessly twisted her arm. “You gotta go! It will be good to network and promote the label!” he said. As a designer, Cindi had made a name for herself around town. But times were hard for all luxury goods, and if the charity ball was the best way to make lucrative business contacts, then so be it.

In the past, it was her ex-husband who had always insisted they go. Richard’s net worth was over fifty million dollars, and what better place to flaunt it than at the Brave Cherubs Charity Ball? Never mind that he didn’t actually devote his time or money to any charities. For Richard—a shallow, ego-driven entrepreneur—everything in life was purely for show. Unfortunately, by the time Richard revealed his true nature, Cindi had already taken her marriage vows.

***

To her dismay, it turned out that their marriage was just another way for Richard to impress others, which meant that the relationship itself wasn’t important to him. When she suspected he was cheating, she hired a private detective to discover his midday trysts with his administrative assistant. How tacky and cliché. Her husband was having an affair with his employee, and he didn’t even have the decency to hide it. Cindi’s friends had all agreed that it was one of the worst ways to find out your husband was cheating—by having a private investigator—a perfect stranger—show you the video footage.

Richard had a tendency toward emotional abuse during their marriage. His bullying tactics, however, sank to new depths during the divorce. Despite his breathtaking net worth, Richard’s goal was to give Cindi and Kaitlyn the bare minimum. Thus, in order to achieve his goal, Richard had retained a divorce lawyer as underhanded and ruthless as he was.

Meanwhile, Cindi was the opposite of Richard. She was loyal and faithful to her loved ones. She threw her heart and soul into her relationships. And what she’d chosen to do—what she’d been trying to do—was create a stable, happy life with her husband and daughter. Despite all of Richard’s faults, she loved him … or so she thought, especially in the beginning.

Their divorce proceedings were lengthy and full of heartbreak and trauma. Richard’s lawyer bullied Cinderella, threatening to strip her of all her parental rights if she didn’t agree to his terms. The thought of her little girl living with her volatile, emotionally abusive father was so horrible that Cindi signed away what she was entitled to. In the end, the settlement left her with nearly nothing. She consoled herself by saying that at least she had full custody of her child. And her dignity … or did she?

Thankfully, because of her age, her daughter wasn’t aware of the ugliness of their unraveling marriage. Cindi had protected her as much as possible. And when they separated and Richard took their little girl for his weekend visits, he was cordial and kind. In fact, he tended to shower her with gifts and tried his best to show Kaitlyn that he was the superior parent.

But all the stress caused Cindi to fall into depression. Overnight, her title of wife was replaced by divorcée, a term she despised. She found herself a single mom, supported by a paltry income and a struggling business. This was hardly the life she had envisioned for herself and her daughter. To her, the divorce was a failure—her failure. She questioned everything that had gone wrong: Why couldn’t I make Richard happy? Why would he ever want to cheat on me when I had tried so hard to be the perfect wife and mother?

***

The night of the ball, Cinderella sat in front of her vanity, pinning her blond hair in a French twist. No, this wasn’t the life she’d planned, but it was still her life. Her daughter was healthy, and she was blessed with good friends.

“Kater-tater!” she called.

Her daughter didn’t respond.

“Kaitlyn?”

She heard a pair of tiny footsteps bounding down the hall, followed by silence, which was broken the moment her daughter somersaulted and plopped on her mother’s bed. Her landing was followed by giggles.

“Yes, Mommy?” Kaitlyn asked, cocooned in the comforter and catching her breath.

In the mirror, Cindi watched her daughter. She had a cherub’s face: round cheeks, crystal-clear blue eyes, and perfect pink lips, framed by a head full of blond curls. She had the best features of both of her parents: her bright eyes and blond hair from her mom, and her chiseled jawline from her dad. Fortunately, she’d inherited her mom’s personality, which meant that Kaitlyn didn’t exhibit any of her father’s arrogance.

Cindi’s friends had been telling her for years that Kaitlyn should be a model. But there was an unspoiled gentleness to her—such a sweet, wholesome innocence that Cindi couldn’t bear the thought of dragging her to fashion shows and photo shoots.

“I was wondering,” Cindi said, pointing to her hair, “if I might have a little help with this French twist.”

Kaitlyn’s face brightened. “Yes!” she shouted. “Let me get my hair kit.” Her daughter bolted out of the bedroom to grab her prized possession. For her seventh birthday, Cindi had given her daughter a hairstyling kit, which Kaitlyn now considered her most treasured gift.

She had spent hours trying her wild creations on her mom, including, but not limited to, ponytails, side ponytails, braids, French braids, and pigtails. There was even one foray into the 1980s theme of “bigger is better,” which resulted in a teased look that gave them both the giggles.

Cindi stared into her mirror, squinting, then smiling, trying to make the lines around her eyes disappear. She was by no means old, but at thirty-five, she could see laugh lines forming around her mouth. She liked to remind herself that those wrinkles expressed the mountains of joy she’d experienced … once upon a time.

Cindi lightly poked at the skin under her eyes. In her twenties, she’d sworn she would never do Botox, but now that she could see new lines on her forehead and around her eyes—a side effect of the stress of getting her business running and her divorce—she was seriously considering it.

Kaitlyn ran into the room, cheery as ever, and flopped onto the bed, her hairstyling kit tumbling open in the process. There was no way Cindi could feel depressed when Kaitlyn was so cheerful.

“Butterfly or banana?” Kaitlyn asked, digging through her assortment of hair clips.

Cindi shrugged. “Maybe we should try them both and see which one looks better.”

A grin spread across Kaitlyn’s face. She eagerly hopped on her mother’s vanity and got to work, sweeping Cindi’s hair back into a French twist with the skill and finesse of someone much older.

As she looked at her daughter in the mirror’s reflection, Cindi’s heart filled with joy. Kaitlyn was a ray of sunshine who added bountiful warmth and goodness to her life. Yet something was still missing. And though she didn’t want to be like some of Anne’s financial clients who were constantly in search of their elusive Prince Charming, she longed for a partner to share her life. She couldn’t help the fact that she was raised that way. Her mother and father had been devoted to one another for more than 40 years, and she wanted to experience the same partnership and commitment she’d witnessed in them.

In fact, when Cindi loved someone, she gave 110 percent. She aspired to be the best partner, friend, and lover possible. And she wanted someone who would return her commitment. Now that the marriage was over, deep down she wished to meet her Prince Charming. She wanted him to be kind, loving, and loyal. She dreamed of being swept off her feet and falling head over heels in love. “Didn’t all women want that?” she asked herself.

“Mommy,” her daughter said.

“Yes, Kater-tater?”

Kaitlyn crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out a pouty lip. “I can’t make your hair look pretty when you’re frowning like that.”

A quick look at her reflection in the mirror revealed that her daughter was right. She had a large patch of wrinkles on her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Cindi said with a sigh. “I didn’t realize I was frowning. I must have been distracted.” She pulled her daughter onto her knee. “You’ve got to have good material to work with, don’t you? How else will you get me ready for the ball?” She smiled, kissing Kaitlyn once on each cheek, then three times on the tip of the nose—their secret, special kiss.

“I’m going to make you look like a princess, Mommy,” said Kaitlyn.

“Then I hope you can work your magic because I’ll need it tonight,” Cindi said, laughing.

Kaitlyn swooped her mother’s hair in the back and inserted a shimmering butterfly clip. As Kaitlyn styled her mom’s hair, she chattered about school friends. Before long, Cindi had forgotten her troubles.

Kaitlyn always had an ability to lift Cindi out of even the darkest state. Richard had given her the most precious gift in the world, their daughter.

“Is Daddy going to be at the ball?”

The question was like a dagger that pierced her heart. She tried to breathe normally so her daughter would not detect her sorrow. “I don’t think so. Not this year.”

“Then who will you dance with, Mommy?” Kaitlyn asked.

It was an innocent question, and it made Cindi’s stomach sink. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Who would she dance with?

She looked at her daughter in the mirror. “Who says I need someone to dance with, Kater-tater?”

Kaitlyn shook her head, as if this was the silliest question in the history of the world. “Of course you need someone to dance with. You’re a princess, and you need a prince!”

Suddenly, Kaitlyn jumped up and sprinted out of the room, yelling, “I know what you need!” She returned and walked straight to the vanity where her mom sat. Kaitlyn held a glittering silver charm bracelet in front of her mother’s face.

“You can wear it,” she said, “if you promise to be careful.”

Richard had given the bracelet to Kaitlyn for Christmas last year, and it was her pride and joy. It made Kaitlyn feel grown-up and special to own such a fancy piece of jewelry.

Cinderella was touched. She held out her left hand as Kaitlyn fastened the bracelet onto her slender wrist.

“It’s pretty! It looks perfect on you,” Kaitlyn said.

“Oh, this is so special,” said Cindi. “I’ll be honored to wear it. But first, I have an idea.”

She rustled through her jewelry box and pulled out a silver bracelet of her own—one that her father had given her when she was a little girl. She unclasped it and slid it on her daughter’s tiny wrist. “Your grandpa gave me this when I was about your age. Now you and I have matching bracelets,” said Cindi.

Cinderella stood up and examined herself in the mirror. She wore a floor-length, off-the-shoulder blue dress that had an overlay of shimmering sequins and featured a plunging neckline. Two years ago, she had designed the gown, which accentuated her slender waist and ample bosom. And Kaitlyn was right. The charm bracelet looked lovely with her dress. To her surprise, Cinderella felt beautiful.

She hugged her daughter. “My hair looks perfect.”

Cindi leaned over and finished applying her lipstick. It was a deep, rich red—aptly named “Poison Apple.” The color brightened her pale face as she pressed her full lips together and took one last look at her reflection. Inside, she could still recall the sting of Richard’s cruelty—the way he used to criticize her appearance. At this moment, however, she thought, Not too bad, Cindi....not too bad. To her surprise, she actually wanted to go and enjoy herself. The woman who hardly ever put on lipstick, the single mom divorcée … wanted to laugh … mingle … and to dance.

Kaitlyn was giddy. “Mommy, you look bee-you-ti-ful! Just like a real princess, and my bracelet will make you lucky. You’ll see.”

Cindi smiled. “Maybe it will,” she said. “You just never know.”

Chapter 3

Jacquie, Kaitlyn’s favorite babysitter, arrived right on time. Kaitlyn always looked forward to their adventures together.

Cinderella reviewed her notes with Jacquie. “Dinner’s in the fridge. TV only after homework’s done…I shouldn’t be gone very long. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home,” she said.

Jacquie nodded. “Got it. Now where’s the little princess?”

Kaitlyn flew into the living room, completing the perfect somersault on the carpet near the sofa. She giggled and then asked, “Doesn’t Mommy look beautiful?”

“Stunning,” said Jacquie.

“Thanks, Jacquie,” Cindi said. “That’s sweet. It’s not every day that I go to a ball! Now, you two have fun. I’ll be back before you know it.” Cindi hugged Kaitlyn and headed to the door. “And, girls, go easy on the cookies.”

“Wait, Mommy!” Kaitlyn shouted. “Don’t forget your purse!”

“Oh, thanks,” Cindi said. She had designed it from the same sapphire blue silk she had used for her gown, and it was one of her favorites.

In the first months after the divorce, Cinderella had experienced a burst of creativity unlike anything she had ever known. She lined the walls of her studio with exquisite creations. After tirelessly marketing her line of fall dresses, she arranged two distribution deals with buyers who began selling her work immediately. From those contacts, she was introduced to a buyer whose client list included the hottest celebrities. She knew that if the buyer liked any of her pieces, he would bring them to the attention of his high-profile clients, catapulting Cindi to a level of success she had always dreamed of.

She now found herself with solid business experience and fantastic contacts. All she had to do was design incredible dresses. Perhaps it was the pressure of this new possibility that was daunting, or the fact that Cindi was still struggling with her self-doubt, brought on by her divorce. Whatever the case, at the moment, she needed to rely on her artistry to remove the block. If she didn’t have something to show her celebrity buyer soon, she might lose that contact forever.

Despite these recent anxieties, she had to admit that tonight she did feel a little beautiful. When she’d designed the gown that currently draped her body, she had envisioned it as a one-of-a-kind masterpiece that would turn heads. It made her feel like “a real princess,” just as Kaitlyn had said.

Cindi carefully stepped into her Honda Accord, started the engine, and eased out of the driveway. The car was one thing she kept. It was nothing luxurious, but it was dependable and solid. And Cindi loved it.

As Cindi pulled up to the Vizcaya Museum and Gardens—Vizcaya for short—she shook her head in disbelief at how over-the-top the ball was. A long line of cars queued in front of the valet stand. There were Mercedes, Porsches, Maseratis, and even a chauffeured Rolls-Royce. The irony, of course, was that the event was ostensibly to raise money for children’s cancer research. Cindi couldn’t help but think of how much money they were wasting on opulent dining and entertainment, let alone the gowns and jewelry.

A valet in a white tuxedo approached Cinderella’s car and opened her door. “Welcome, Miss,” he said, offering his arm as she stepped out of the car.

“May I say that you look lovely tonight?” he said.

“Why, thank you,” Cindi said. She knew he probably said this to all the ladies but enjoyed the attention nonetheless. He escorted her to the garden terrace entranceway.

“Have a wonderful evening,” he said as he departed to park her car.

Cindi stood at the entrance of the lush gardens. She hesitated. Her mouth was dry, her hands trembled, and she felt her heart pound. She looked down at Kaitlyn’s charm bracelet, which reminded her that she was loved and she had nothing to worry about. Still, she wasn’t sure whether she should go inside. She wondered who would be there and, specifically, if Richard would show up. Stepping timidly through the threshold, she took a deep breath and said to herself, Okay, Ms. Cinderella, just go in and enjoy yourself. Remember, this is a networking opportunity.

As she stepped into the grand space, she found herself swept up by the magical ambience. The Vizcaya Museum and Gardens, a national historic landmark located in Miami, featured a main house, ten acres of formal gardens, and a lush native forest. For the gala, the garden had been transformed into a stunning Arabian-themed paradise. The main area was enclosed in a huge Bedouin tent with luxurious draped silks overhead that created a ceiling. Palm trees lined the periphery, and colorful velvet tapestries hung on the sides of the terrace. Soft pillows were piled on chairs with low couches and Persian carpets spread out on the ground. At one of the open ends of the tent, elegant white tablecloths covered the tables. Lanterns hung in the palm trees, giving off a soft, ethereal light. Female servers were dressed like belly dancers, and the male wait staff wore harem pants and scarves. The scent of spicy Moroccan food wafted through the air.

Male guests dressed in their finest tuxes, and women, wearing beautiful, expensive evening gowns and jewelry, mingled through the crowds. To her surprise, Cindi didn’t see anyone she knew. What she did see, at one end of the garden, was a massive dance floor surrounded by strings of lights. She hoped that one of her male friends had come so she would have someone to dance with. The evening was almost perfect and would have been even more so had she been with someone she loved.

Hundreds of thousands were spent annually to make the soirée an event to remember, and this year was no exception. A full band was already playing on a stage at one end of the veranda. As Cinderella watched a couple dancing, she felt a pang of longing. Although she hated to admit it, she was slightly embarrassed that she didn’t have a date.

Despite her saddened state, Cindi put a smile on her face, took a glass of champagne from a waiter, and ambled through the crowd, aware of every step and every breath she took. Numerous men noticed her and smiled. Remember, she told herself, you’re here to network with business contacts. And if some of your friends show up, you’ll surely have someone to dance with. So far, however, she hadn’t seen anyone she knew.

Suddenly, someone caught her eye. A tall man, well over six feet, with luscious, thick, wavy dark hair stood under an ornate tapestry. A nearby lantern highlighted his brawny physique. Cindi noticed that he was wearing an Ermenegildo Zegna dark gray suit with Cartier cufflinks and Italian leather shoes.

Cindi held her breath. Good Lord, he’s gorgeous! she thought to herself. And not just boy-next-door gorgeous. No, he was the kind of handsome man who could be on the cover of GQ magazine, in a Halston ad, or a leading man in a movie.

He balanced a plate of Moroccan lamb shish kebabs precariously in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. His dark hair rested carelessly over his forehead, which only added to his sex appeal.

Cindi could see that he was well built, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He had a strong jawline, square chin, and tanned skin, perfectly suited for an Arabian Nights novel. She wasn’t usually the type to stare, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. And then, to her astonishment, he began heading directly toward her. Her heart pounded harder with each step he took.

“Your beauty is captivating,” he said by way of introduction. “I hope you will excuse the intrusion … I just had to see if you were real.”

What did he say? Could this be happening? she asked herself.

Cindi attempted to speak, but the words remained lodged in her throat. At the moment, she thought of movie stars who rivaled his looks but was unable to think of their names. And there he was, talking to her.

“A faint blush becomes you.” He held her gaze. “Is this your first time at the ball?”

Finding her voice at last, Cindi said, “Oh, no. I used to come every year with my husband.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She’d been talking to this stranger for mere seconds, and she’d already broken dating rule number one: No mentioning exes. Clearly, she was out of practice when it came to talking to beautiful men.

“I mean ex-husband,” she said.

He smiled. “No further explanation needed. I used to come to the ball with my wife … ex-wife.” He extended his hand.

“I’m Paul Francis,” he said.

“Cinderella,” she said, marveling at the firmness of his handshake. “But my friends call me Cindi.”

“Mmmm … Cinderella? How apropos,” he said, clutching her soft hand. “You do look like a modern-day Cinderella. Quite beautiful, if I may say so.”

“Thank you, Paul. I … er … uh … I haven’t seen any of my friends here yet, and I was just wondering where everyone was,” she said.

“Well, I’m here, and I hope to be one of your friends,” said Paul. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. His penetrating gaze and his deep, rich words promised much, much more than friendship. She felt his lips, soft and tender on her hand. His touch was electrifying—that’s the only way she could describe it.

His eyes flashed a mysteriously captivating blue-green. Suddenly, Cindi felt a little lightheaded. It was as if he could read her thoughts and her soul. She feared that she was going to faint.

“Sorry. I’m feeling a little dizzy,” Cindi said, feeling self-conscious as she pulled back her hand and broke eye contact. She coughed, trying to regain her sense of equilibrium.

“Too much to drink?” Paul asked.

“That must be it,” she said, even though she’d only taken a sip of her champagne.

“Listen, it’s kind of stuffy in here. How about we go outside and get some fresh air?” Paul asked.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said.

He placed his hand on the small of Cindi’s back, sending warm shivers down her spine. She noticed the outline of his biceps and forearms bulging beneath his tux’s sleeves. Heat waves coursed through every fiber of her being, and she felt connected to him—as if she could feel his heartbeat.

“After you,” he said, guiding her gently toward the door.

Together, they walked out of the Bedouin tent and into a starlit night where all Cindi could think about was how much she wanted to kiss him and allow this prince to do whatever he desired with her body.