Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
I snort, slipping my hand into his arm.
“No actress aspirations here,” I say. “That ended when I was sixteen.”
I don’t mention that I’m planning to put on an Oscar-worthy performance tonight.
It’s overwhelming when Ulysses leads me up the stone steps under that towering archway.
The entry hall of the house alone is larger than my entire cottage with its black-and-white patterned marble floors. A black velvet runner rug leads even deeper into the cavernous home.
Everything is all white stone, antique bronze fixtures, expensive odds and ends with naked cherub statues and bronze sculptures and draperies, all strewn around with fresh flowers tucked in every corner.
White. Lilies of the Valley, I think.
Don’t those flowers usually mean death?
That’s a little on the nose, or else it’s just my awful imagination.
Several hallways and staircases snake off from the entryway. Ulysses leads me down a tall, narrow, black-carpeted hall, past several closed doors of weathered oak so ancient it’s nearly black.
The entire time he says nothing, but he looks down at me like he can’t get his fill.
I struggle not to flinch away.
I keep my head bowed like I’m just shy. I distract myself from the weirdness, watching the small cluster of people up ahead, only to blink as one man turns his head and I catch his elegant, sloping profile, spectacles, distinctive jaw, and wild hair roughed back in a ponytail tonight.
I actually stumble.
“Is th-that...?”
“In the flesh. He needed a break from the bruising defamation case with his ex-wife. Such a circus,” Ulysses answers dryly. “No Oompa-Loompas or pirates with him tonight, I’m afraid. I might be able to introduce you, but he is a tad prickly. He might be kind, or he might keep you all night boasting about his next film project. He’s like that.”
I can’t help laughing. “I’m fine with watching from a distance, thanks. I’ve seen enough of that drama on Twitter and TikTok.”
“Can’t blame you. He may be an interesting man, but he is exhausting.”
I won’t lie.
Even if I’m tense, scared, putting on an act, I’m legit starstruck by the company the Arrendells keep.
By the time the carpeted hallway opens into a grand ballroom with ceilings so high I can barely see them in the shadows, I’ve seen half the Billboard Top 20, the entire cast of the latest MCU TV franchise, and a quiet, unassuming man in a finely tailored suit who personally owns about ten percent of the world’s global worth.
It’s so dizzying it’s a minor miracle I don’t barf.
So is the sheer scale of the ballroom.
The center floor is already swirling with people dancing, black suits and bright dresses making a kaleidoscope of grace.
All around me, people lounge at tables in cozy groups with chaises and divans and other comfortable places to stretch out and perform their art of looking effortlessly beautiful.
I just about choke on my own breath when one of the highest paid supermodels in the world glides past, glances over me, and gives me a cool but sweet smile.
“Banging dress,” she murmurs before she floats by.
“I—” I swallow. “I can’t tell if she meant that or not.”
“Oh, she did. Her face is just frozen that way, and it’s impossible for her to not sound like she’s mocking you.” Ulysses chuckles. “Don’t let it overwhelm you. They’re ordinary people behind their status, just like you, I promise.”
“The hell they are,” I mutter.
Too loud.
That actually makes him laugh. “You are a delight, Delilah.”
“So,” a smooth voice says behind us. “Is this the one you and father won’t shut up about then?”
Ulysses’ mouth thins.
He rolls his eyes and mouths, “Brace yourself” before we turn to face the speaker.
I instantly recognize Xavier Arrendell from Google. He’s a carbon copy of Ulysses, but a few years older.
A bit taller and coarser, his hair shorter and his saber-sharp cheekbones undercut by a slightly unkempt blond beard. He looks me over with cool green eyes, his mouth curled cynically.
His navy-blue suit sits on him handsomely, shimmering faintly in the light from the crystal chandelier overhead.
With a sigh, Ulysses says, “If he can bother to mind his manners, Delilah, I’d like to introduce you to my older brother, Xavier.”
“I can bother my manners just fine, but can you mind your dalliances?” Xavier says flatly. “You make too many headlines, brother.”
I sputter, shaking my head quickly.
“We’re not together,” I say. “I’m the pity invite. The new schoolteacher. I’m not cut out to be part of your world.”
Ulysses makes an odd sound that actually sounds a little hurt.
Xavier gives me the strangest look.
His gaze dips down to my hand on Ulysses’ arm—the bracelet on my wrist. There’s something bitter and hard in his eyes.
“Is that what you think you are?” he asks.
Eesh.
I don’t even know what to make of that. But I don’t get a chance to fumble for a reply to that oddly ominous statement when a whirlwind of color comes sweeping into us.