Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
At thirteen, Ollie’s little brother only cared about his family and rowing. Sebastian and I got along well, but I found him a little too cold and abrasive for mass consumption.
“You’re going to make your neighbors regret the day they moved there.”
“Mrs. Costa already phoned Mom, begging her to reconsider. It’s too late, anyway. I already built a stable there.”
“For what?”
Knowing Oliver, it could be for anything from a stink bomb studio to a microbrewery. He tended to respect his whims, doing as he pleased just because he could. If it were Oliver being shipped off to boarding school, he’d probably hire someone to attend in his place or use the campus as ground zero of a revolution.
Ollie angled his arm, subtly adjusting my posture until proper. “My parents bought me a new horse, who seems to shit his own weight every day. Plus, it’s on the water, and Seb’s dying to practice there.”
“Is he still ridiculously good at rowing?”
“I think he’s headed to the Olympics.”
“And polo?”
“Polo’s been good. We won the national championship.” Ollie brushed his accomplishment off with a shrug. “What about you, Cuddlebug?” He winked. “Break any hearts this year?”
I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or teasing me. Surely, he knew I had no friends to speak of, not to mention admirers.
“I’m taking Latin and Mandarin now. My parents say it’ll pad my college apps.” I rummaged through my brain for something that wasn’t completely nerdy and depressing to impress him with. “Oh, I also made this dress myself. I messed up a stitch or two in the back, but overall, it’s pretty neat, right?”
“It’s perfect.”
I kicked a leg back, then forward. “Thank you.”
He dipped us into another twirl. “So are you, by the way.”
I tipped my head back, laughing. “Now you’re just saying that.”
“I never just say things.” His features sobered, his lips tapering into a flat line. “I’m dead-ass serious, Cuddlebug.”
We slowed to a stop just before the song ended. Enthusiastic claps echoed between my ears. I peered around in a daze. A human circle had formed around us, gifting us a private space to dance. I scoured the blur of toothy smiles for my parents’ faces and came up empty. Meanwhile, Felix and Agnes von Bismarck admired their son with tender gazes. My heart bashed against its cage. Where were my parents? Why did they never take pride in me?
Oliver snatched my hand. “Come quick. I want to show you something.”
We pierced the thick crowd, crept past a private entrance, and ran down a narrow, cobbled stairway. Like all medieval mansions, the good weather did nothing to fight the damp air and frosty chill.
“Slow down.” I tugged my skirts up so I wouldn’t trip on them on the steps. “I’m wearing heels.” They weren’t high, but still. I couldn’t match Oliver’s pace with our fingers laced together, him half-dragging me to our destination.
“Dude, you’re slower than a dead sloth.” He swiveled around and picked me up honeymoon style like I weighed nothing, barreling down the stairs two at a time.
I looped my arms around his neck. “Okay, first of all, rude.”
His chest rumbled with a chuckle, but he didn’t answer me.
I dropped my voice into a whisper. “Second, where are we going?”
“Seb found the alcohol stash, and it is glorious.”
He whirled down another flight of stairs. It wasn’t the first time we’d stolen booze during a summer party. We’d started the second I’d turned eleven and accidentally drank Mom’s wine instead of my apple juice. We never got truly drunk, but something forbidden always tasted the sweetest.
Six flights of stairs later, we burst out the entrance. Ollie set me down and reclaimed my hand. We charged toward a vineyard, snickering between gasps of breaths and tripping over our own feet. Yellow torches guided us in the dark. Powerful music rattled the ground beneath our feet, dirt caked the hem of the dress I’d spent weeks on, and somewhere along the way, Ollie lost his bow tie.
I trailed him, my hand still secured in his.
“Just wait till you see it.” His words danced in the wind, the music and lights dimming the further we ran. “He also found a crate of old-ass books.”
“He took books?”
“Yeah.”
“He doesn’t even read.”
“We’re hoping for some smutty scenes.”
We ran for a few minutes until we reached the deserted stable on the far end of the property. Far enough from the party – from my parents – that I could breathe again. Well, once I caught my breath.
Ollie didn’t seem winded at all as he flipped his phone and led the way with its flashlight. “Oh, shit. I forgot something first.” He shoved his phone into his mouth, held it by his teeth, and produced a crumpled, coral rose from his tux’s inner pocket. With a grin, he tucked the trimmed stem into my hair, dropping the phone back into his hand. “A rose for Briar Rose.” He winked. “Didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”