Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
We’re barely even scratching the surface of our research when my head snaps up and I catch sight of the time, my eyes widening in raw panic. “Ahh, shit,” I say, noticing the time. “I have to start getting ready for work. I’m gonna be late.”
Cara’s eyes bug out of her head, gaping at me as though I just told her I’d prefer one dick over four. “What? Work? Are you insane?” she shrieks. “You can’t go to work like that. You can barely talk. Besides, you can’t just bail on me with this. We have a lot of content to get through before either one of us can be considered thoroughly educated.”
“I’ll be fine,” I throw back, tossing my blanket off and getting to my feet. “And somehow, I think you’ll be just fine with researching on your own. Besides, it’s so loud on a Friday night that I don’t even need to talk. No one can hear me anyway. I just pour beers and take money.”
“I want it stated for the record that I don’t like this,” she says, throwing her blanket off and marching to the kitchen for a bottle of wine. “Though, if you’re planning on working, I’m not going to say no to getting a little fucked up and seeing if Josh up on the third level has any friends.”
I laugh and shake my head as I trudge down to my room, pushing through the door and quickly getting ready. I do what I can to cover up the bruises on my neck, and before I know it, I’m flying back out the door.
“Don’t forget your water,” Cara calls after me, making me double back and toss all our blankets around before finding the bottle halfway under the couch.
I get back to my feet and glance up at Cara, already well and truly through that bottle of wine. “Don’t get too fucked up,” I tell her, though there’s really no point. She’ll be annihilated before I even get to the bar. “And if you happen to screw Josh and a bunch of his friends, try and remember every nasty detail because I’ll need them all.” And with that, I take off out the door, hoping to God I don’t run into any assholes on the way.
Reaching the bar with two minutes to spare, I hurry to the back while waving to Heather and Hannah on my way. It was a miracle I made it here unscathed, but now I have to somehow get through the rest of my night. I don’t doubt that at some point they’ll show up here. Three of them with cold, hard stares while the fourth just looks at me with guilt.
I go to clock in for the night and as my gaze lifts to the small tablet, I pause, finding a sealed black envelope stuck to the screen with my name written in fancy calligraphy across the front. My blood runs cold, and I quickly scoop it up before anyone sees it. As I flip it over, I find that same glossy E stamped on the back.
Every nerve and cell in my body screams at me to burn it, but the curiosity is just too great. Clutching the envelope tighter, I finish clocking in, and the second I can, I race to the bathroom and slam the door behind me.
There could be anything inside this envelope, and my gut tells me it’s from one of the boys. My hand shakes as I flip it over and slip my finger under the seal to break it open. A million thoughts fly through my head. It could be a note. A warning. An apology.
I almost start laughing at the absurdity of that last one. There’s no way in hell it would be an apology. Hell, I don’t think a single one of those guys has ever muttered the words I’m sorry in their lives.
With my shift starting any second, I slip my hand inside the envelope and pull out the paper hidden within. My brows furrow as I glance over the elegant design.
It’s an invitation.
Starting from the top, I scan over it again, making sure I’m reading it properly.
Dear Miss Oakley Quinn,
You are cordially invited to attend the 145th annual Empire ball, celebrating the birth of our great institution and the sacrifices made by the honorable men before us.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
A ball?
Hell, I thought this envelope was going to include instructions on how to build a bomb just so one of them could have the luxury of making it explode in my face, but a ball? A freaking ball? What the hell is going on here? That was the last thing I expected.
The invitation goes on to give details about the time and date, venue, and dress requirements, and as I try to wrap my head around all of this, I find myself already wondering what I might wear.