She pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank goodness. I would have hated to soak you.” She waved her now-empty glass. “At least it was white wine. That doesn’t stain, does it?” She bit her lower lip and blushed slightly. “I’m babbling. It’s horrible, but you make me nervous. I mean, you’re you and I’m not. Well, I mean of course I’m not you. And spilling, it’s just so high school. Don’t you hate that?”

She paused for breath. “You’re not in costume.”

He glanced down at his dark tuxedo. “I know.” His gaze returned to her. He took in the ball gown, the tiara, the wonder in her eyes. “You must be Cinderella.”

“Almost. Cynthia.” She bit her lower lip again. “Please don’t call me Cindy. It would be too embarrassing.” She gave him a shy smile. “And you’re Jonathan Steele. I recognize you from your pictures in the newspaper. You look better in color than in black and white.”

“How reassuring.”

She glanced around, then back at him. “People stare at you. Have you noticed? I can’t decide if it’s because you’re good-looking or if it’s the money-power thing. Do you know which it is? Or is it both?”

The complete lack of guile in her eyes told him that her question was genuine, not an attempt at flattery.

“Maybe it’s you,” he told her.

She waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Oh, please. There’s a laugh. You’re the king of the ball.”

“You’re in a tiara. You must be royalty as well.”

She grinned. “Sure. I’m the Princess of Nowhere.” She set her glass on a nearby tray then curtsied. “It’s a small kingdom on the edge of town. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Jonathan had spent the past two months confirming that his only living relative had concocted a scheme to skim millions from his business. That same relative had just informed him that he had arranged for his murder. If David didn’t put the money back, which was unlikely, Jonathan was going to have to have him arrested. It had been a hell of day.