The Cinderella Rules by Donna Kauffman

Author:Donna Kauffman [Kauffman, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Romance, Adult
ISBN: 9780553382341
Google: v_h14x8_1CkC
Amazon: 0553382349
Barnesnoble: 0553382349
Goodreads: 106928
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Cinderella Rule #13

You’ll always have enemies, no matter how you comport yourself. Success does breed contempt, after all. No sense in needlessly adding more names to that list. Therefore, treat everyone with respect, regardless of social station. It’s not always the big fish who causes the most trouble. Or provides the most help. Allies—and enemies—come in all sizes, pedigrees, and estimated annual worths.

—MERCEDES

Chapter 13

The caterer has run out of Chambolle-Musigny blanc?” Shane repeated, tightening the belt of his bathrobe. “My God, man, why didn’t you come tell me sooner?”

The man immediately looked contrite and more than a little anxious. “I tried, sir. I’ve knocked several times.”

Shane lifted his hands. “I was kidding.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

Shane sighed. Was there no one who had worked for his late grandmother who had a sense of humor? “Let me ask you something.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Was employment in your field so hard to come by when you accepted the position here that you had nowhere else to go?”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

Shane clamped down on the urge to drop to his knees and beg the man to stop begging his pardon. And for Christ’s sake, to stop calling him sir. But doing so would only confound him further. “Your job here, are you well compensated?”

The man looked truly worried now. “I’ve no complaints, sir. I promise, I’ll try harder next time, I—”

“Jesus,” Shane swore under his breath. “Just stop.” He raked his hair off his forehead. “So, people are actually upset about the wine, huh? How many other kinds are we serving?”

“Seven, sir. But this one was selected especially to go with the foie gras canapés, sir.”

“Ah.” Shane scratched his chin. “Well, these people need to get a life, then. But that goes without saying.” Despite just having had the very best sex of his entire life, he felt his week-long vise-grip headache return with a vengeance. “You can tell the caterer they can serve Kool-Aid, for all I care.”

“Kool . . . Aid?” The young man looked truly perplexed.

“You’ve never heard of—?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. Just tell them to serve whatever else we have on hand that goes with the menu.”

“From our own cellars?”

“Where else? Of course from our own cellars.”

“Those are from Ms. Morgan’s private collection, sir. The wine served today was specially ordered months ago for this event. We simply had no idea there would be such a run on the Musigny. We need your approval to call the supplier and order—”

“But we do have wine in the cellar? Perfectly good wine, right?”

“Yes, sir, the best, but—”

“Then please inform whoever is in charge of wine selection—”

“That would be Hayes, sir, the wine steward.”

“Right. Tell Hayes he has my full permission to take from the cellar whatever he deems suitable. And as many as he deems necessary.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “Are you certain, sir? Ms. Morgan has always expressly forbidden—”

“Ms. Morgan is no longer with us. And I don’t really see the need to keep a bunch of bottles moldering in some dark basement when they can see the light and be enjoyed.

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