Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Fiora’s stare flashes through my mind again. She’s got a fire to her—one I can’t wait to tame if I am truly honest. One that, when she becomes my girl, can be used in plenty of creative ways.
I smirk. “Set it up.”
This is going to be fun.
Chapter 11
Fiora
I’m halfway through putting in my dainty gold hoops when my phone rings. It was back to ‘classic beauty’ now that I had returned to living in my father’s penthouse. I took out the ‘ridiculous’ nose piercing and dyed the white stripe of my hair to its natural black.
Anything to keep Papa happy.
Even if it means me feeling like someone has taken hold of my neck and is squeezing normalcy, compliancy, and fucking boring into my battered soul.
I’m trying so hard to forget my escape and stint in Heathens Hollow. It was the first time in my life I ever truly felt free. I wasn’t a Godwin. I didn’t have expectations. I was just a young woman living alone and figuring out who she was.
Will I ever be able to know the answer to that question now?
I stare at the name lighting up the screen and don’t move. Papa. He hasn’t spoken to me since Mason’s funeral on Sunday, but I’ve expected him to call eventually. I’m sure he was busy hunting for information and tying up loose ends.
Loose ends like me.
I let it ring three, four, five times, then finally click the green answer button.
“Hi, Papa.”
I try to sound measured when inside, my heart thunders in my rib cage. I have an inkling as to what he’s calling for, and I dread hearing it.
“Cancel your plans,” he demands. “You’re coming to dinner.”
I frown. Tonight is the Spinster’s Silent Auction at The Moore Theater. I bought a ticket to get back to the life of a daughter of a Godwin as I know is expected. It’s supposed to be something to take my mind off the ache that’s been in my chest since the car bombing.
“I have an event,” I say carefully.
Of course, it means nothing.
“Who do you think pays for your events and appearances, Fiora?” My father’s dry laugh cuts deep into my bones. “I wasn’t asking. It’s time you start paying for all those frivolous nights you waste. I’ll send a car. Don’t embarrass me.”
He hangs up before I can answer. I throw my phone on the vanity where it knocks my makeup palette off the side. It crashes onto my hardwood floor and scatters shades of brown across the room.
I’m already dressed for the occasion in a blood red cape dress, hair curled and pinned around my ears. My father said not to disappoint, which means this isn’t some simple family dinner. I switch out the gold hoops for Mama’s diamond teardrop earrings and throw on a few extra rings and bracelets. If it’s his wealth he wants to flaunt, then I’ll give it to him.
I make sure to pack the auction ticket in my Christian Dior clutch, along with a few other essentials. Just as I slip into my heels, my intercom buzzes and signals the car is already waiting for me.
I take the elevator down the twenty-one stories, and the doors open to Vincent, my father’s personal driver. Papa must be worried I’ll ignore his demand if he’s sent Vincent. Either that, or whoever is joining us for dinner is too important to skip. Either way, there’s no getting out of this one.
He bows his head and leads me toward the front revolving glass doors. Just as I’m about to pass Paul, the sixty-something security guard who mans the front of my building, I stop.
“Evening, miss,” he says cheerfully with a nod. “I hope you have a good night.”
“Unfortunately, not,” I respond with a stretched smile as I dig into my clutch. “Your daughter likes parties, doesn’t she?”
“She does. A little too much if you ask me.”
I laugh and pull out the auction ticket, along with a stack of one hundred dollar bills I prepared for this event. “If she’s free and can get ready in an hour, give this to her.”
Paul glances down, eyes widening when he sees my offered ticket and money. “Nah, miss, I can’t accept this. That’s awfully generous of you but it’s too much.”
“She would be doing me a favor. I already made an obligation to go but something came up.” I hand out the stack toward him again. “Tell her to go and bet on Item 36 for me. It’s an all-inclusive trip to Puerto Vallarta for two guests to be used in June. This should be enough to cover it.”
Paul doesn’t look convinced, even after my explanation. Getaway trips like those are the easiest to win bids on. Charity or not, no one who attends these auctions is going to overspend on vacations to tourist traps they can get for much cheaper.