Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
And VanDoren Enterprises was a huge multi-tiered company. I’d die if I was the one to let it fail.
“That’s a good girl,” my mother murmured. “Now I have some ideas for some lovely boys who might be interested in courting you. Good Darlington boys who would be an excellent fit for the company.”
I winced. An excellent fit for the company. Did she even care if they were a good fit for me? I didn’t dare ask. I’d likely just get another lecture about how I didn’t understand the “real world.” But what the hell was the real world if not what I was supposed to live day in, day out? I was the one who’d be living this life that she was so determined to map out for me.
Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore. “May I be excused?” I asked my mother.
She frowned at me. But then she looked at my plate which I’d all but cleared and nodded. “Better you don’t have the fruit tart tonight. I know they call it a freshman fifteen, but really, I expected better of you. You can join me for my Pilates classes at the club. They have a spin class we can sign you up for too. We’ll get you toned back up in no time. Really dear, keeping your figure is more important now than ever.”
I bit my tongue. Literally bit it to keep from shouting at her. I wasn’t heroin chic anymore because I’d finally dealt with my near-anorexic tendencies that I’d had all throughout high school from living under this roof. And I’d be damned if I was going to relapse. I was finally a healthy weight and actually had curves, thank you very much.
“Good night, Mom,” I said through gritted teeth and then all but fled up the stairs to my room.
Where I stewed for the rest of the night, watching trash reality TV in an attempt to forget how aggravated I was and then went to bed.
Where I couldn’t sleep.
I squeezed my eyes shut and fluffed my pillow for what felt like the millionth time and then turned over on my other side again.
I counted sheep.
I counted more sheep.
Sheep were fucking stupid. Just like Mom thinking I needed to marry some man to take over the business for me! What century were we in?
I sat up in a huff and threw my pillow across the room. Luckily it only landed on the antique couch and didn’t knock over any of the trinkets my mother insisted on decorating my room with after I’d moved out so that our historic house would look good when she took guests on tours. Of the rooms that weren’t “under renovation” anyway. Renovation being a codeword for the ones that had mold growing on the ceiling from the roof leaks. The tour was growing shorter and shorter every year.
It was infuriating. There wasn’t even a space in my own house that could be my own. She’d packed away everything that was me and put it all on the one side of the attic she swore didn’t leak.
And she’d do the same with my entire life. She’d erase me and make me a good little wife while some man took the life I wanted for myself—running the family business and being the boss.
I could do it. I knew I could. If only anyone else would believe it. Well, anyone besides my brother who everyone considered to be a black sheep. Because he’d dared say F U to this whole ridiculous genteel Southern system and fight for what he wanted.
I stood up, hot, flustered, and unable to be in this room, in this house, another single second.
I got out of bed, threw open my suitcase, and pulled out a miniskirt and my slinkiest, shimmery tank top. I got dressed and put on a pair of party heels, then tiptoed down the stairs. The house was quiet and dark.
Mom usually started drinking wine right after dinner and was blotto by nine when she closed herself in her huge master suite. It was only eleven, but I was sure she was dead to the world by now.
I was still quiet as I slipped out the front door and locked it behind me.
It was a hot, sticky summer night, but breathing in any air that wasn’t in that stuffy house felt refreshing. I hurried over to my car, glad it was a hybrid. In electric mode, it was all but silent as I pulled out of the driveway and escaped into the night.
Once I was free, I had no idea where I wanted to go. Party heels were great and all, but there weren’t really any parties outside the big cities past 9 pm on a weekday. I sighed. Maybe I’d just drive. I put all the windows down and cranked the radio up.