Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Ms. Randell deadpans. “If a man is involved, you have even less reason to question their actions.”
“Bianca has been using your company to try to pawn off those terrible daughters of hers. Why do you think she tries to book all the socialite parties? It’s not for the money. Well, not entirely,” she says and purses her lips.
“Well, I have no intention of embarrassing myself thinking I have a chance with someone like Princeton Blake. He just wanted a competent party planner. Those two can throw themselves at him all they want,” I grumble.
“Princeton Blake?” Ms. Randell stands up straighter. “He’s the gentleman who requested your services?”
“Yes.” I tilt my head. “Why?”
“You must go to the ball.”
“What? Why?”
She waves a hand at me. “Princeton Blake doesn’t make idle requests. No, you must go.”
“How do you know about Princeton?”
Her cheeks turn pink. “It’s a part of my job.”
A part of her job. What job? I haven’t seen her go to a job since I moved in here. I’ve always wondered how she can afford this place. She must come from money. Heck, I only live here because it was one of the properties my father left me.
The other place is a Château or something, someplace in Europe that I’d never heard of before receiving a letter after the reading of the will. I’ve considered selling the place, but something has always stopped me.
I’ve been too busy saving to buy back the company to go check the place out. It’s on my list of things to do when I can finally take a vacation.
“I think I’ll pass on this one,” I mutter.
“You will do no such thing. Destiny is in the works, dear. We will meet up with it.”
“Huh?”
“Trust me.”
She looks down at her watch. Her brows draw together. I feel bone tired. I just want to go inside and go to sleep.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to forget this day ever happened.”
“Nonsense. I’m going to make some calls and then we’ll get started on your hair and makeup,” she says.
“I don’t have a dress.”
“What do you think I’m making the calls for? Off with you. Go shower the day away and I’ll be over in twenty.”
I go to argue, but she gives me a firm look. I guess I’m going to the ball after all. I sigh and turn to push into my apartment.
“What a day.”
***
“Wow,” I whisper as I look at my reflection staring back at me.
I thought I was in awe when Ms. Randell arrived with four clothes racks pushed in after her as she made her way into my living room. Now I’m just floored. I can’t believe it’s me.
The strapless blue gown shimmers with silver and is beaded with crystals at the top. It’s breathtaking. The wide skirts sway when I move. My hair and makeup are flawless.
Ms. Randell brushed all my natural curls into a ponytail and created the sleekest curly bun I’ve ever had. A far cry from the blowout I wear to work. I can’t even believe she got my curls to spring back and behave for her.
I feel like a princess.
“I always knew this crown would fit you perfectly,” she chokes out at my side.
I turn to her to find tears in her eyes. I lift a hand to lightly touch my collarbone. It’s odd. I’ve never seen this crown before today. Yet Ms. Randell looks at me as if this is something she’s longed to see.
“It’s very pretty,” I say. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear it. I don’t want to lose it or something. It looks expensive.”
“I won’t allow it. You will wear it to the ball. It’s yours,” she says firmly. “Now, where are those shoes you’ve been talking about?”
My cheeks hurt from the smile that comes to my face. The one thing that hasn’t been ruined about tonight. My shoes. I lift my skirts and move to the shoebox.
“Oh, my. Those are breathtaking.”
“Yes, they are. I had to have them,” I reply as I hold a silver strappy sandal in my hand.
“Quick, let me help you get those on,” she says.
I sit on the bed and she gets down on the floor to help put my shoes on. My phone vibrates on the bedside table. I pick it up to find a message that the car is downstairs waiting.
“Oh, I forgot all about the car coming. They’re here. I’m the last pickup. I better go,” I say as she finishes buckling the last strap.
I stand and she draws me into a tight hug. “You enjoy yourself. This is what your mother and father would have wanted for you,” she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.
I pull away and get ready to ask her how she would know what my parents would want, but my phone buzzes again. It’s one of my workers letting me know the driver is impatient and acting like a dick.