Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“The shoes are gone,” he says.
“Fuck you, Evander.”
“There is nothing I can do,” he says, ignoring me. “If you had told me they held sentimental value—”
“Those are my things!” I say, nearly shouting at him. “You can’t just throw away my things.”
“I can, and I will.” His expression darkens. “You don’t understand where you are yet, Camille. The people here, they’re going to wait for you to make one mistake, to stumble even a little bit, and then they’ll pounce like hungry jackals. How you dress, how you walk, how you eat, how you speak—everything will be judged, and I can’t protect you all the time. I know you aren’t a spy, but even acting like you could be spying might get you killed.”
“I am not part of your world,” I say and turn my back on him, crying now, unable to stop it. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. Just leave me alone.”
“Camille—”
“Get the fuck away from me.” My shoulders shake as the tears roll down my face. I won’t sob, I won’t give him that satisfaction, but I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself. Those shoes were more than shoes—they were a symbol of my independence and a promise to myself.
If I could sacrifice enough to get those shoes, I could do anything.
They were one of the few things I bought with my own money, saved painstakingly over months. I skipped movies, meals, fun with friends, all to get those shoes, and I felt so proud wearing them.
Now they’re gone.
“I’ll let you calm down,” he says and walks away.
“Bastard,” I whisper and collapse to the floor, hugging my knees and crying.
Chapter 21
Camille
I stand behind the counter in the Demetrios Diner and wipe down a mug. I’m in a pair of tights and Phel’s extra uniform. It’s scratchy and a little too big, but I don’t care about anything right now.
I just want to be busy.
Evander didn’t want to let me go, but I didn’t ask his permission. I stormed out of that house, ignoring him when he told me to stop, and approached one of the maids I recognized from the day before. I ordered her to find me a car and a driver, and she stared in terror until Evander told her to obey my demands.
“We will speak about this later,” he said as I slammed the car door and his driver pulled out.
Now I’m just trying to get myself together. I know they were only shoes—but they’re also so much more than shoes.
I lost everything. My life was ruined the moment I ran out on Christopher, and I did it anyway, because I knew that staying would be even worse.
But now I have no family, no life, no friends, nothing.
Those shoes were all I kept.
Now they’re gone.
“You seem distracted.” Phel leans up against the counter next to me. The diner’s slow after the morning rush, but before the lunch crowd gets going. She gives me a knowing grin. “Tough night?”
“Something like that,” I say quietly.
Her smile fades. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“No,” I say and put down the mug. “It’s not like that. Things are just complicated, that’s all.”
She sighs and leans her head back. “God, I wish my life could be complicated. Especially if that involved sleeping over at the Kazan mansion.”
“Let’s trade then.”
She laughs. “Gladly. Want to talk about it?”
I hesitate, considering, but shake my head. I’m angry with Evander, but I’m not stupid enough to gossip about his private business with anyone else, not yet at least. I like Phel a lot, and I’m starting to trust her, but I don’t want to risk screwing my life up even worse.
Instead, I tell her interesting but unimportant things about the house, about the art and the staircase and the fountain with the actual fish swimming around, about the bedroom and the balcony and the view of the lake. She listens and sighs and laughs and makes all the appropriate noises until I’m finished.
“That must be absolutely insane,” she says and pours me a coffee without asking. I accept it gratefully.
“Aren’t I supposed to pay for this?”
“Nah,” she says and gestures at the tables. “There are like eight made guys in here right now ordering way too much food. Dad would let you stand on a table and scream the Declaration of Independence if you wanted.”
I laugh and notice she’s right, there are a bunch of big, scary-looking Greek guys hanging around.
No doubt thanks to Evander.
“I just don’t want to be a burden on you and your family, is all.”
Phel rolls her eyes. “Man, you’ve got some guilt in you. But chill, it’s totally fine. Dad’s loving this.”
I study Ophelia for a long moment and sip my coffee. She’s young and pretty and funny and smart, and I bet from her perspective, she’s stuck working in this lame diner with her family.