Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
But once I was dressed and making my way through the house, I realized Ivan was still around. He was clearly on his way out but had stopped to talk to one of his staff. I stopped dead in my tracks. For a few moments, our eyes met in the mirror. My breath caught, and I felt a rush of emotions—desire, confusion, and something powerful left over from last night. I almost turned around and fled back to my room, needing to escape before he saw how much that single glance affected me. But he turned away and headed out of the door.
This is why I’m hiding out here in the garden today, just in case he comes back early to prepare for the gala or something. I hear quick footsteps on the stone floor and my heart lurches into my throat. When I swing my head around, I see Greta striding toward me, her face pinched and annoyed, her heels clicking sharply. She’s a stark contrast to the garden’s tranquility, her presence breaking the quiet peace. I don’t even have the energy to be snappy with her.
“Miss Fitzpatrick, I’ve been calling you for hours. What on earth are you doing?” she snaps, her voice slicing through the calm.
I wipe my hands on my jeans, feeling a twist of anxiety in my chest. I switched my phone off because I didn’t want to speak to my father just yet. Not today. Tomorrow I will face his recriminations and guilt. “I’m just here gardening. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” she repeats, practically waving her phone in my face like a weapon. “The gala is tonight at seven. It’s already three o’clock! You need to get ready. There’s an entire bunch of professionals waiting for you. Hair, makeup, nails—all of it at your suite at the St. Regis.”
I stare at her in shock. The St. Regis is one of the most luxurious hotels in Manhattan. There’s a mixture of emotions swirling inside me. He got her to arrange all of this for me? I stop with the dreamy train of my thoughts and tell myself it’s just for show. All part and parcel of the image he needs me to project, but I can stop my heart from soaring a little. It feels… different. It feels as if he cares.
I push down the strange fluttery feeling in my chest. “Okay.”
Greta nods curtly. “Good. Now, let’s go. We’re already behind schedule.”
I follow her, leaving the tranquil peace behind, and we head to the waiting car. I lean back against the plush seat and watch the city rush past the windows. The ride is quiet, the tension between Greta and me unspoken, but thick and impenetrable. She’s glued to her phone, typing furiously. I stare out at the city, feeling like I’m on the edge of something I can’t quite name.
Walking into the St. Regis is like stepping into another world. The lobby is a masterpiece of sumptuous elegance. The floors gleam under crystal chandeliers and the staff move around with practiced efficiency. Everything about it feels glamorous and luxurious, removed from anything I’m used to.
My mind drifts back to the innocent, uncomplicated life I was living in my tiny box-like apartment just days earlier. My walls are a discolored beige so no matter how much sunlight streams in through the windows the place looks dull, but my rental agreement doesn’t allow me to make changes. The corridor has a worn-out carpet and air almost smells of old coffee and stale smoking. Everything about that life was about small spaces and tight budgets repeating day after day.
But now here I am… in the middle of Manhattan, about to mingle with some of the city's elite. It feels surreal, like I’m caught in a current I can’t escape, and I’m not sure if I want to resist or just let it take me wherever it’s going.
Greta leads me up to the floor where the spa is located, and soon enough, I’m wrapped in the warmth of luxury. The staff greet me with practiced smiles, guiding me through each treatment as if I’m royalty. As they work, their hands knead into my muscles, releasing the tension knot by knot. The scent of eucalyptus, rose, and musk fills the air, and it’s impossible not to feel the heaviness slip away. After a short while, I let myself sink into it—the clean sheets beneath me, the warmth of the oils soothing my skin. It’s like floating, my body surrendering to pure indulgence and comfort. Even though a small voice whispers that I don’t belong here, I push it aside. Sorry, but today I do.
When I feel almost too boneless to walk, I’m taken to the suite Ivan reserved. It’s breathtaking—high ceilings, tall windows that overlook the city skyline. The deep red dress I chose waits for me on a hanger. Also waiting are the hair and make-up professionals. They set to work immediately.