Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Shut it,” I replied, only half concentrating on Tristan as my gaze caught a woman in a white dress, strands of treacle-colored hair tumbling down her back. She was carrying a glass of champagne and an old-fashioned reporter’s notebook, though she was focused on neither as she squeezed by us, nearly tipping alcohol over Gabriel’s very expensive jacket. “It was fifteen years ago and I was asleep,” I said as the woman passed. I tracked her as she headed toward one of the display cases, where her face lit up with a huge smile as she took in a pair of earrings my parents had produced to go with the tiara. Happy at the thought of someone else enjoying my parents’ designs, I tuned back into the long-running debate with Tristan.
Tristan rolled his eyes and nodded. “So you say. But asleep or awake, you tried to spoon me.”
Gabriel was a man of few words but Tristan had enough for both of them. How the three of us, plus Beck, Andrew and Joshua had managed to remain friends all these years was a miracle. We were brothers more than friends.
“The six of us should go back to Prague,” Gabriel said.
“Definitely now we can all afford our own rooms, and I don’t have to sleep with this guy,” Tristan said, nodding his head toward me. “I’ll look into it.”
A break with my best mates sounded like a great idea, but not until I’d won this competition. I had a lot of work to do over the next few months. Putting together the designs for the princess of Finland’s wedding collection wasn’t going to be enough. The quality and rarity of the stones, plus cutting and setting them, was going to set us apart. My contacts with stone suppliers were the best in the business, and I was going to need the best of the best. There would be no taking breaks in Prague or anywhere else for a while.
“We can make it a celebratory trip when Dexter’s won this competition,” Gabriel said, once again guessing my thoughts.
Tristan shrugged. “If you like. I still don’t get why you have to enter some stupid competition. It’s not like you need the work. Or the money. Do you?”
Tristan was right. I didn’t need the money or the work.
But I had to win.
Partly for my reputation—it would be more evidence I was the best at what I did. But mostly for my parents. To win the competition a generation after they had was what they would have wanted—proof that their passion had been passed through their genes—and I was carrying on the torch for them.
“I’m not knocking on the door to the poor house, don’t worry,” I said.
“Pleased to hear it. But at the same time, if you want to offload that DB5 of yours at a knockdown price, I’d be happy to pay cash.”
“Find your own Aston Martin and stop trying to buy mine,” I replied. I turned to Gabriel. “If you ever find me dead under suspicious circumstances, point the police in this guy’s direction,” I said, nodding toward Tristan. “No doubt they’ll find him with my car keys in his grasp.”
Tristan shrugged as if it would be a fair assumption. He’d borrowed my car too often for me to count. He didn’t need to bump me off for it.
“You know we’re huddled here like Macbeth’s witches. You should mingle,” Gabriel said.
It was probably true. I was here to prove to the industry that contrary to popular belief, I didn’t think I was too good for them. I scanned the room for a safe place to land—ideally, a small group of people who wouldn’t immediately bombard me with stories about my parents. And of course, I had no desire to run into anyone from Sparkle. A conspicuous trail of empty champagne glasses led to the woman in the white dress, who was standing in front of the earrings my parents had produced for the queen’s wedding. “Okay. I won’t be long,” I said, heading in the direction of the earrings. The woman in white seemed to be the only person in the room focused more on jewelry than socializing, and by my standards, that meant she was someone worth getting to know.
As I passed the entrance, a list pinned to an easel caught my eye—the names of the attendees. Primrose, my head designer, would be keen to see who was here tonight. I pulled out my phone and took a picture before trailing my finger down the alphabetical list to find my name. I pulled away abruptly, as if the board had emitted an electric shock. I’d expected to see my name there, but there were two “Daniels” on this list.
David was here.
The brother who’d tried to destroy my parents’ legacy. The brother I’d vowed to have nothing to do with. The brother I hated.