Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath and nod. I don’t know if I’m making the right decision, but I don’t have any other choice.
“Okay.” I ignore the warning bells going off in my ears. “I’ll stay for the night.”
Phoenix nods, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ll see you in the dining room at eight for breakfast. Goodnight.”
Chapter
Six
Ani
I head down to the dining room in a house that has never felt welcoming. It might as well have a No Trespassing sign hanging on the front door for people like me. I am beneath a house like this. I am too poor to enter, and it knows it. But it’s not like my life and my current situation gave me much of a choice.
As I descend the staircase and adjust my slim skirt, I suddenly wish I’d gone with one that was longer and dowdier. Maybe I should have just stuck with my go-to jeans and sun-faded tee. I don’t think it’s smart to appear at all sexy around Phoenix Godwin. And who knows how much of my body he’s seen without me knowing.
I stand in front of the dining room door, looking down at my shoes for the briefest of seconds. They’re worn, but not dirty. So at least I won’t track Eastside filth into the pristine manor. Although my outfit may be too sexy, it is as impeccable as I can get—a black blouse and gray skirt from a secondhand store that costs less than the loose change that can be found hanging around the inside of Olympus. My favorite hair clip—my only hair clip—that was a gift from Daphne sits jauntily atop my onyx hair. The ivory clip is the only thing I have on that is of any real monetary value. I never asked Daphne how much it cost when I accepted it as a birthday gift. She knew to not make a fuss over money, or expensive items, or I wouldn’t accept it. But the clip shows real thought and care had gone into the gift, and I couldn’t turn it away. I saw how much Daphne wanted me to keep it.
Overall, I don’t mind being poor that much. I never have much money, so I don’t miss it. I am different from my sister. She wants the money. She dreams of the wealth. She’ll do whatever it takes—and has—to get close to money. Me? I feel no need. I’ve known who I am from the moment I attended my first day of school and was called white trash. Yes, I know my position in society, and I don’t fight it.
I am a realist, while Daphne is a dreamer.
I knock on the door and wait with a pasted-on smile. I’m not sure if I should just open the door and enter. I’m sure I look like a redneck hillbilly for doing it, but I also don’t want to simply assume I’m welcomed in all parts of the house.
The door opens, and someone from the staff greets me with a polite smile. “Welcome, Ms. Parker,” she says, as she leads me into Olympus Manor’s grand dining room. The marble floors gleam in the light, and the chandelier overhead sparkles like a constellation of stars.
I don’t belong here.
As the woman leads me toward my seat, I can’t shake the feeling I’m being observed. Phoenix’s eyes seem to be everywhere, always watching, always judging. He’s the king of this kingdom, and I’m nothing but a peasant in his presence.
I take a seat at the table and try to steady my breathing. Phoenix’s footsteps echo as he descends the stairs, and my heart is pounding. I’m not sure what to expect, and I feel that this is a test. Like he wants to see if I’m worthy of his time and of his help.
I’m second guessing my stubborn pride about calling my sister last night.
He enters the room, and my breath catches. He’s even more imposing closer up, with his height and thick body. It’s as if a six-foot-six brick wall entered the room. He’s dressed in a tailored suit that accentuates his power and wealth. He’s the epitome of perfection, and I am small and insignificant in his presence.
“Welcome,” he says, as he takes a seat across from me. “I’m glad you took me up on my offer.”
I nod, unable to form words. He’s so overwhelming, so intense.
I try to gather my thoughts and speak, but my voice comes out not much louder than a whisper. “Thank you for inviting me,” I manage to say.
Why am I being nice to this man? Isn’t he the one who just got caught spying on me? And yet, I’m nervous that I’m not saying or doing the right things around him.
Rich people make me sweat.
It results from growing up on an island where the Godwins were treated as actual Gods, and we were mere mortals praying they wouldn’t strike us down with one of their mighty lightning bolts. They owned all the land we lived on, which meant they essentially owned us. Or at least that is how it often felt.