Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
She gives me a disapproving look, reaching out a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Why don’t you go have a shower? Clean yourself up, and then—”
“It’s been a long night. A long week,” I correct. “I’m going to bed.” I leave her standing there looking slightly offended as I lug my suitcase up the stairs before she can say another word. My mother takes control in every situation. Sometimes, I don’t think she’s even aware of it. Years and years of begrudgingly following her orders disguised as advice and desperately seeking her approval make it hard for her to handle it when I dare to go against her wishes. Even when it’s something as simple as not wanting to shower on her schedule. I used to have a lot more tolerance for her. You’d think the distance would make things better—absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that—but the longer I’m away at school, the more my resentment grows, and I find it harder to be around her. Harder to forgive her.
Once I’m upstairs, I pull my suitcase into my room, kicking my door shut behind me. I could almost cry at the sight of my bed. This room is all my mother’s design. Fit for a princess. But I’ll give credit where credit is due. She spares no expense when it comes to furnishing a room. If there’s one thing I miss about being home, it’s my bed.
Before I can face-plant onto it, my mom opens my door and follows me into my room. “Don’t you want to open your Christmas gift?”
I turn around to find her with a red box wrapped in a white ribbon. I raise an eyebrow as I toss my phone onto my bed before I take my jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. “Valentino?” I ask, recognizing the gift box.
She smiles, holding it out for me. I eye her with a healthy dose of suspicion as I take it from her outstretched hand. Gifts from my parents are usually one of two things: apologies or bribes. Usually, accepting them is not worth it, but I have a feeling that whatever is in this box is going to be really pretty.
When I pull off the lid, my mouth falls open. A gorgeous pair of transparent, six-inch platform pumps. “These cost like two thousand dollars,” I tell her, as if she wasn’t the one to buy them. Now I’m really suspicious. “What’s the catch?”
“Nothing,” she says with a hint of defensiveness in her tone. “I thought you’d like them, that’s all. You can wear them to the New Year’s Eve gala.”
“The what?”
“The gala,” she repeats. I don’t even have to ask which one.
“Since when was that the plan?”
“Since you said you’d spend New Year’s with us since you spent Christmas with your friends. That was the deal.”
I shake my head, putting the lid back onto the box before holding it out for her to take back. “I didn’t agree a gala.” I don’t want to spend my New Year’s Eve at some old people party. Not to mention, Holden will be there.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She doesn’t take the shoebox, pushing it back toward me instead. “It’s just a nice dinner and a silent auction followed by music and mingling. Your father’s going to be there, too. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be with your family.”
I set the box on the edge of my bed, then turn back around to face her. Narrowing my eyes at her, I wonder what her true motives for wanting me there are. Why does she all of a sudden care about spending time with me? She never gave two shits before. It’s as if the more I pull away, the more she digs her claws in lately. “And if I don’t go?”
She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Wear the shoes or don’t, Valentina. I don’t care. But it would mean a lot if you decided to show up without me having to make threats or strongarm you into going.”
Dammit. Why I still let her make me feel guilty, I’ll never understand. “Fine. I’ll make an appearance.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“And thanks. For the shoes.” My words sound stiff to my own ears. It’s not exactly a heartfelt thank you, but it’s as good as I can do.
“You’re welcome.” She smiles. Just before she’s gone, she stops in my doorway and turns around to eye me up and down. “And Valentina? Try to look nice.”
I roll my eyes, climbing into bed. I spend the next hour trying to fall asleep, cringing each time images of fucking Holden flash in my mind. Of all the stupid decisions I’ve made, that one is near the top of the list. Even knowing that, I can’t deny that it was amazing. Just as I’m about to finally doze off, my phone vibrates on the mattress next to me, pulling me back from the edge of sleep.