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)
I must be insane for considering this, but already in this one little invitation, I’ve received so many answers. The biggest of all—Empire.
I don’t know what it is or what they stand for, but it’s a starting point. All I know is that for some reason, those four assholes want me at that ball, and I’ll be damned if I show up with them. No, I’ll be going alright, but I’ll be going on my own terms. And this time, I’ll be the one with the upper hand.
Chapter 15
OAKLEY
The floor-length golden gown makes me feel as though I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, so it’s a shame my hair has got me looking like a drowned rat. What was I thinking when I decided to get ready in my car? This is ridiculous. I almost broke the gown just trying to get into it, but I refused to get ready anywhere near that apartment.
No one can know I’m going to this, not even Cara. She’d kill me if she knew I received a fancy little invitation to a grand ball from our neighbors and didn’t burn it right away. I had to tell her my aunt was in town for a dinner date and to check I’d settled into my apartment okay. She had no reason not to trust me and even helped me conceal my bruises on my way out the door.
So here I am in a cheap rental gown that’s absolutely stunning, trying to fix my hair in the shitty little sun visor mirror with absolutely no way to get my hands on either a straightener or curler. I have to somehow manage to tame this bird’s nest with nothing but a brush and my quickly fading will. Not to mention, my makeup is up next, and this shitty little mirror is not offering the best light.
After twenty minutes of nothing but flat-out struggling, I slip my feet into a pair of heels and let out a shaky breath. This is it. I’m ready . . . At least, I hope I am. The last two encounters I’ve had with these guys haven’t been great. Kidnapping and almost murder. Is that what this Empire thing is all about? God, I wish there were some way to know what I was about to walk into, but something tells me a quick Google search isn’t going to give me the answers I need.
Why do I have to be such an idiot? Fuck. My father would be rolling in his grave right now.
Double-checking the invitation, I find the venue information and hit the gas. My hands shake the whole way there, but there’s no backing out now. It’s a ten-minute drive, and I quickly find a parking space before climbing out of my car. People linger outside, women in gorgeous gowns that look as though they’re worth more than I could make in a lifetime, their partners dressed in fancy five-piece suits, looking absolutely flawless.
Glancing down at my cheap rental gown, I’ve never felt more out of place, but I’m not here to fit in. Hell, I’m hoping I can slip through the door, find out what I need to know, then get out of there before anyone starts asking questions. If I happen to get out of there before any of my twisted neighbors see me, even better.
Gaping up at the magnificent building, my jaw drops. I’ve only driven through the city once and didn’t get a chance to see much, but this . . . this is incredible. I feel like I’ve been transported back in time. The architecture looks as though it was pulled out of a Jane Austen movie and it has me ready to play out my wildest Pride and Prejudice fantasies. If only I actually believed any of the men inside this building were anything like Darcy.
Wanting to get this over and done with, I gather my confidence and try to remember that I have a set of steel balls, bigger than anyone who could show up here tonight. Okay, that might be a stretch. I have an attitude problem and a mouth that just seems to run no matter how bad the situation.
I make my way toward the grand entrance and keep my head down while clutching the invitation in my hand. There’s a security checkpoint, and I fall in line behind the other guests, nerves blasting through my system. I wasn’t expecting this. I was hoping I could just stride right through the front door and get lost among the other guests.
Security surrounds the building, and I wonder who the hell has been invited to this thing when I reach the front of the line. “Name,” the security guard asks.
“Oakley Quinn.”
His head shoots up, his brows furrowed as he looks me over, a strange curiosity in his eyes. “Quinn?” he questions.