Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“He’s a bit scary, isn’t he?” Sienna whispers.
I just shake my head, worried he might somehow have ultrasonic hearing.
“He’s a creative genius. Don’t question it.”
After everything is said and done, once the last stroke of mascara has been applied to lengthen my lashes and my cheeks have been dusted with a shimmery pink blush, I’ve never felt prettier in all my life. I stand in my suite, in a slinky gold cocktail dress that Sienna’s let me borrow, and I almost, very nearly tear up. It’s the thought of my grandmother never seeing me like this—looking so grown up and glamorous, that is.
I suppose I dressed up nice for my high school prom and the occasional date or two, but it was nothing like how I look tonight. I never quite looked this stunning. Yes. I’m allowed to think it, I tell myself. Now that there’s no one else to say it for me. I deserve to hear it, if only here, in the quiet of my suite. I’m allowed to feel like pure sunshine in this gold dress. My legs go on forever in my coordinating sky-high heels, and though they’ll absolutely ruin my feet, tear them to bits most likely, there’s no choice. They have to be worn. I’ve never seen a more tempting pair of shoes. There’s a demure strap over my toes and another midway up my foot; then instead of a traditional buckle around my ankle, there’s a long thin snake-shaped spiral that winds up my lower calf. God, they look expensive. They’re Sienna’s as well. Some London brand I’ve never heard of.
“You take them. They’re yours. They were gifted to me, and they’re a half size too small, and I don’t know what I was thinking packing them for the trip. I suppose I was hopeful they’d work out, and now they have, on you.”
“You’re like my fairy godmother.”
“Oh, yuck, wasn’t she old? I’d like to be Cinderella’s sexy friend, the one who has a tryst with Prince Charming’s brother instead.”
My stomach is filled with nerves and not much else as we make our way to deck four. The performance starts in fifteen minutes, and I meant to grab a bite to eat in my suite before meeting Sienna, but I didn’t get the chance. They gave us little snacks and things at the spa earlier—cucumber sandwiches, fancy French cheeses, a sampling of smoothies, but looking back, it equated to about seventeen calories, certainly not enough to take the place of dinner.
Outside the theater’s entrance, there’s a cocktail bar. Sienna shoots me a look like Should we? I shake my head adamantly. We shouldn’t. But then she responds with a look that says C’mon, what do we have to lose? I roll my eyes. For me? Not much. Just my last lifeline. She crosses her arms and purses her lips.
In the end, we take our seats in the middle of the theater, each with a glass of champagne.
“Do not let me guzzle this down,” I say just before my lips come into contact with the most effervescent, bubbly, delicious champagne I’ve ever tasted. It’s gone in two seconds flat. “Right, well, don’t let me guzzle down my second glass.”
“Good evening, Ms. Hughes. Ms. Thompson.”
Sienna whirls around with a big smile. “Oh, hello, you two!”
I turn to greet Tyson, genuinely happy to see him for the first time since yesterday morning until I notice his friend behind him. Phillip is devastatingly handsome, as always. In a fitted black suit, sans tie, with the top two buttons undone at his collar—my mouth goes dry. I freak out. Look away. Then I realize after the fact that I forgot to greet him. Whatever happened yesterday on that golf cart doesn’t warrant me completely ignoring him, but what do I do now? Turn back and laugh? Offer a smile? I can’t. I’m glued to my spot, my heart thundering in my chest.
They fill the two seats behind us, talking to Sienna while I review the program like my life depends on memorizing every word of it. Somehow, they arranged it so Phillip is directly behind me, though it should have been Tyson.
Sienna and Tyson act like two chatterboxes, carrying on so easily, though Phillip is as quiet as I am.
Eventually, though, he leans forward, breaking the awkwardness with a greeting that sends goose bumps down my arms.
“Ms. Hughes.”
I smirk before turning gently to look over my shoulder, just enough to get him in view without having to spin all the way around in my seat. It’s easier now to look at him knowing what to expect. My heart rate only barely picks up. His hair is combed smoothly, dark and gleaming like it’s still damp from a recent shower. His jaw is clean shaven. His cologne is subtle but there, tingeing the air with a spice that has me wanting to lean closer.