Kissing the Boss
he said, his voice dry and clearly unimpressed.
I snorted out a laugh before I cringed. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. I mean, can you blame me? It’s not every day I come across a Cinderella in drag, looking for her—I mean, his—lost slippers.”
“Maleficent,” he corrected, still lacking all humor. “I’m supposed to be Maleficent.” He pointed to the distinctly Maleficent-shaped horns on his head and then the flipped-up collar of his cape as if that explained everything, which, hmm, actually yeah, it did make total sense now that he mentioned it. Huh. Why hadn’t I caught onto that before?