Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
The necklace I chose was a simple silver chain with a large emerald pendant. It would rest just above the neckline of the corset, drawing eyes to my breasts every time it caught the light.
My old college roommate had referred to it as “cleavage candy,” and for tonight, that was exactly what I wanted.
It was perfect.
“That is really pretty,” Rose said, “but Mother is going to kill you.”
“No, she won’t. If I don’t marry Mr. Manchild, then he’ll expose some deep dark secret, and I can’t marry him if I am dead.”
“Mr. Manchild!” Rose laughed again, doubling over in a very unladylike fashion. “I can’t get over how good that is. It just fits.”
Smiling back at Rose in the mirror, I wondered if I had ever laughed so uninhibitedly before. I refocused on getting my makeup just right.
I really did tell my sister everything. Well, everything except what had happened in that billiards room at the gala.
That, I would take to my grave.
I didn’t think she would judge me for what he’d done. She might judge me if I admitted how much it turned me on. Or how I took a long hot bath when I got home and pictured what it would have been like if he had followed through on his threats and taken me right there.
Sarah brought in my sister’s dress and she went to change. Motioning for me to take a seat in front of the vanity, Sarah asked, “What are we doing with your hair tonight? Maybe leaving it down in loose waves for a little modesty?” She fluffed it and draped the long, dark-brown locks over my chest.
“No, I think we should pin it up. I think a simple twist will work, or a sleek bun.”
Sarah looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t.
My mother had verbally beaten all opinions out of her.
That was probably why she had lasted so much longer than the others. She styled my hair as I asked, pulling it all back from my face and pinning it in an elegant twist. Then she took it a step further and secured it with silver hair sticks, emerald beads dangling from the ends, catching the light.
“Perfect. Thank you.” I smiled at Sarah, and she nodded and went to help my sister while I finished my look with a nude lip and a pair of black Jimmy Choo stilettos. I was ready to go. Not that I didn’t have every intention of making my date for the night wait.
Rose came out from behind the curtain looking just lovely and sweet in her light-pink dress, her curls loose around her shoulders. She looked like a slightly younger, more girlish version of me. The version, I was sure, my mother hoped I would look like tonight, and Mr. Manchild, too, no doubt.
“I can’t tell,” Rose said, looking at me. “Are you going to the opera or are you going to kill James Bond? Or maybe you’re going to steal the throne from Thor?”
I couldn’t help the snort of laughter that bubbled out of me at my sister’s quip. “I haven’t decided. It’s early, it could still go either way.”
Sarah left for a moment, and I helped Rose finish her look, completing the perfect picture of delicate femininity.
“You look like an elevated Shirley Temple if she was a brunette.” I yanked on one of her curls, and she stuck her tongue out at me.
“Do you think he would like this dress?” she asked.
“Who?”
“The gardener.” The way her eyes sparkled and her lips parted, I knew she was in trouble.
“Look at me.” I grabbed her hands. “Who are we?”
“We are the Astrid daughters,” she immediately answered, meeting my gaze.
This was something we did when one of us ever dared to dream of a life outside these walls.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we live a life of wealth and privilege.”
“And what is the cost of that privilege?” I held her green eyes with mine as she took a deep breath.
“It means that we represent our families at all times until the time in which we are married to the husband that Mother chooses for us. Then we represent both families.”
“What are dreams?” I asked.
“A fool’s pastime,” she recited.
“What is love?”
“A fairy tale meant for others.”
A single tear ran down her cheek, and I pulled her into my arms, giving her a tight hug and just holding her for a second to comfort her but also myself.
“I know it hurts, but it will hurt far less if you end this brief infatuation now. It will hurt so much more if you allow yourself to let it grow into love. Trust me, I know it hurts, but end it now.” I was lying to my sister.
I had no idea how it felt. I had never even let myself have a crush. What was the point?