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)
It’s a text from an unknown number, but instinctively, I know who it is before I read the words on the screen.
For what it’s worth, reality was better than the fantasy.
Valen
“We’re going to miss the—why aren’t you dressed?” My mom’s voice draws my attention away from the Funny Bunny polish on my toes. I look up to find her in my doorway, putting her earrings in. I have to admit, she looks beautiful in her pale gold satin floor-length gown. It’s simple but elegant, and it clings to her slender figure like a second skin.
“I have plenty of time.” I prop my chin on my knee, putting the finishing touches on my toes.
“You’ll be late for the auction.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not planning on bidding on anything then.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “Have you even showered? It’s a black-tie event, Valentina. Nothing casual.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” I assure her without giving her an answer. She narrows her eyes at me, knowing that this was my plan all along. There’s no way in hell I’m riding with them. Having a getaway car is mandatory in situations like this. “Promise.”
“One hour.” She points a freshly manicured finger at me. “If you can get yourself presentable by then, it will be a miracle.”
“I could always just…sit this one out?” I suggest.
She gives me a saccharine smile as she tilts her head to the side to put her other earring in. “Nice try. One hour.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you.” She looks taken aback by how quickly I capitulate, as if she expected me to put up more of a fight. She turns to leave, and I turn my attention back to painting my toes. “Don’t forget to take out the nose ring,” she throws over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes. Any time I think we might get away with having a civil conversation, she has to get at least one dig in. “If you’re lucky,” I shout after her, hearing her heels click-clack down the stairs.
Once she’s out the door, I twist the cap back onto my nail polish and walk over to my closet, careful not to smudge my toes. I set my phone down on the shelf next to a pair of shoes before pulling out the dress I picked out for tonight. It’s cute enough. A black satin fitted slip dress with spaghetti straps. My phone lights up, so I pluck it off the shelf, not surprised in the slightest to see that it’s my mom. Already.
Remember: black tie event. And try not to look like you’re at a funeral. It wouldn’t kill you to wear something festive.
I glance around, half-expecting to find a hidden camera.
With a frustrated groan, I hang the black dress up and start flipping through my collection until I land on a very different dress. One that could never be mistaken as casual. It’s a silver chainmail mini dress with slits up both thighs, a draped neckline, and a dangerously low back. The material is delicate and sparkles when the light hits it. In other words, it’s perfect. She wants festive? I’ll
show up looking like the damn mirror ball.
The event is in full swing when I show up fashionably late. I didn’t make it in an hour like I was supposed to, but it’s still early enough. I follow the sound of laughing and mingling down the halls and into the crowded ballroom. I knew Holden’s family was well off, but where his estate in Heartbreak Hill is the understated, old money kind of rich, his uncle’s place is the flashy, shiny, new kind. I scan the room, searching for a familiar face. It’s your typical charity event. Old money, new money, politicians, businessmen, waitstaff, and, of course, a few photographers to document all the goodwill going on here tonight. All of whom are predictably well on their way to tipsy. A server with a tray full of glasses stops to offer drinks to a couple next to me. He says nothing when I pluck one of the bubbly beverages off his tray, looking me up and down, not bothering to conceal his leering.
It almost makes me regret my dress choice. Almost.
I walk away, taking a sip of the champagne cocktail. It’s fizzy and sweet, thanks to the sugar cube on the bottom, and warms my insides. I’m hoping to find Shayne, but instead, it’s my mother that I spot in the sea of tuxedos and floor-length gowns. She’s mingling in a group of people next to the bar, putting on a show. She has perfected a flawless mixture of demure and classy, yet captivating and confident. Too bad it’s all a façade. When she sees me making my way toward her, the mask slips, her eyes practically bulging out of her head before they narrow into slits. I smirk as she breaks away from the crowd to grab my elbow and steer me to a less populated area next to an empty table.