Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
After I drained another glass of Champagne, I cut through the partygoers dressed in their expensive dresses and tuxedos. The last thing I wanted was to be around these people. Screw this. I was going to steal a bottle, go to my cabin, and drink on my own.
That was until my mother found me.
Her dress clung to her petite frame, making her look every bit the wealthy socialite she was.
“Darling.” She brushed my arm, eyeing the empty glass in my hand.
My father would be disapproving, but Irina only flagged down a passing waiter, procuring me a fresh drink.
“Why aren’t you mingling?” she asked, sweeping a stray piece of hair from my face.
“I don’t want to mingle.” I couldn’t stand my mother’s friends. They were always the worst.
I glanced at the dark sea beyond the railing, wishing I could jump in, just to ruin this perfect dress and wash away the curls in my hair along with the professionally applied makeup. I felt like a doll, a commodity. Shiny and fake. I hated everything about this.
“Henri Valant is here.” She moved to stand beside me as she nodded toward the party. “You see the good looking one, with the dark hair? He’s a European football player. Lots of money. Models for Armani, too.” She shifted to face me again, lifting a brow.
And he had arrogant prick stamped on his forehead.
“Not interested, Irina.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know you could come to university here.”
She was trying to plan out my life for me, from a ready- made, rich boyfriend to college. Just like dad. I wanted to scream.
“I’d love to have you here,” she said.
I shouldered past her, cutting through the glass doors and into the kitchen. After I swiped a mini-bottle from the fridge, I descended the stairs to my cabin that resembled the inside of a luxury hotel suite.
My back hit the mattress, probably creasing the expensive dress my mother picked out for me. Then I opened the Champagne. Every luxury money could buy surrounded me, and never had the saying “money can’t buy happiness” been more true. I was miserable. And drunk. And now I was crying. God, I was pathetic, but I wanted nothing more than for Bellamy to be here. Hiding and getting drunk with me.
I all but polished off the mini-bottle, and now I was so drunk I didn’t care if he hadn’t contacted me. The need to speak to him, to see him, to hear his deep voice. So, I FaceTimed him, closing my eyes as the phone rang, thinking he probably wouldn’t even answer.
Just when I was about to hand up, the call connected. The pixelated colors on the screen focused into Bellamy’s stern face. God, he was beautiful, all ticcing jaw and blazing dark eyes.
He didn’t say a word, just glared through the phone.
“You look mad.” My voice hitched. Tears clogged my throat as I tipped the Champagne bottle up.
“Are you drunk?”
“Yep.”
He dragged a hand over his face, resting back against his headboard. I missed him. I missed that tiny little room… “Why are you calling me, Drew?”
“Because I miss you.”
Seconds passed. The hull of the boat creaked as it rocked over waves. “Then why did you leave me?” he asked.
I turned the bottle up once more, trying to chase away my heartbreak, but I couldn’t. “Because I think you wanted me to.”
“Jesus Christ.” He shifted, a blurry vision of his bedroom coming into view for a split moment.
“I trapped you. It’s okay. I should never have moved into your house--”
“Stop.”
“And you’re just good. You know, like a really good egg.”
“Shut up, Drew. You sound...I don’t even know. But not like yourself.”
“I’m not,” I whispered. I wasn’t me without him, and could I be any more pitiful right now?
I slumped back against the pillows, feeling the weight of desolation breaking through my drunken haze. Tears broke free once more, and I closed my eyes. I had no idea if Bellamy was even still there, and I refused to look. “I need you,” I whispered.
“You don’t need anybody, Drew…” And I wished that were true. “All I wanted you to do that night was answer one question. I just wanted you to tell me you wouldn’t regret it.”
“You wanted me to say you were a mistake. That you weren’t good enough.”
“Jesus Chirst.” He exhaled. “I wanted you to tell me I was good enough, Drew.”
No one could have been any better for me than him. “I saw the text from your friend. I don’t want--”
“You went through my fucking phone?”
“Don’t be...Screw you. No, I did not.”
“Then how did you see the text?” The smug look on his face made me irate. Even from a thousand miles away.
“Because it lit up the room in the middle of the night like freaking Times Square, and I saw it pop up. I don’t want you to resent me.”