Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I just have one last task to tick off first. I need to return the dress Rafael gifted me earlier. I can’t accept it since Ark was unaware it had been given to me. He purchased those clothes for his guests. They were not Rafael’s to give away.
With the hour late, and since my visit is more personal than business related, I close my locker before heading for the main elevator.
“Ma’am.” The elevator attendant finalizes his greeting with a glare before he pushes the call button for me.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t shadow my entrance into the car. It could be because he doesn’t deem me a threat to the residents here, but my intuition pleads with me to look deeper. His decision feels like it centers more around Ark than me.
After selecting the main floor of Ark’s apartment, I check my face in the mirrored wall. I look wretched. Dark circles plague my eyes, and my cheeks look gaunt. It is understandable after recalling what I had for lunch.
Air isn’t overly filling.
I hesitate to exit the elevator when it arrives at Ark’s floor. Someone is ending their week surrounded by friends. Four apartments spurt off this hallway, and its echoing design makes it impossible to work out which apartment is being overrun with guests—guests I will most likely have to clean up after in the morning.
The cleaning staff have a seven-day roster. Weekends are not guaranteed days off.
While grumbling about my dislike of my position, I stomp down the carpeted hallway. Music carries through my ears the further I encroach on Ark’s apartment. It leaves no doubt as to who is keeping the other tenants awake.
Ark is entertaining guests—many of them.
Confident they’ll all most likely be as attractive as the female giving him gaga eyes this morning, I pivot on my heel and stalk back to the elevator.
I’m halfway there when a familiar voice says, “Hey, Mara. Ditching already?”
I muster up a fake grin before spinning to face the voice. “I’d have to be invited to di-ditch.”
Rafael shrugs as if science is an unnecessary part of physics. “Tomato, tomato.”
He bands his arm around my shoulders before he twists me around to face Ark’s apartment. I try to dig my heels into the carpet. It is a woeful waste of time. Rafael is too strong, and I’m not exactly putting up a fight.
I’ve been dying to see how the other half lives, and with Tillie already in bed, why not live a little?
When I enter the foyer, I anticipate being hit with narrowed glares and snarled lips.
To my surprise, my arrival goes relatively unnoticed. The only person who pays me any attention is the blonde from earlier, the one who had a date with Ark in the conference room of this building.
“Did you two officially meet?” Rafael asks after stealing a glass of champagne from a server’s tray and handing it to me. “Or did I hatch my ruse too early for an introduction?”
“Ah…”
I’m saved from looking like a blubbering idiot when he waves the blonde over. Her excitement about his wordless invitation announces she is clueless that Rafael orchestrated her demise, or she doesn’t care.
I don’t know how the latter could be plausible. I was devastated to have lost Ark’s attention, and I’m to blame for the injustice.
I guess she has no reason to fret. She is gorgeous and successful. I could never compete with her.
As Rafael offers an introduction, I wipe my riled expression. “Veronika, this is Mara, the woman I told you about earlier.”
Veronika’s mouth falls open as she playfully slaps Rafael’s chest. “You weren’t joking, Raf. She’s totally gorg.”
Gorg?
I’m left floundering when another faultless specimen joins our trio. This woman is brunette and approximately the same age and height as me. “Who is your designer?” She lowers her familiar eyes to my skirt, their trek slow as she takes in the outfit I handcrafted. “That stitchwork is impeccable, and I’ve not seen that fabric anywhere. Is it vintage?”
“Ah. It’s a c-custom piece.” I’m such a liar. The fabric is from one of Mrs. Lichard’s old tablecloths. She was throwing it out, assuming the material was useless since it had a tear. I made myself a skirt and Tillie two dresses from the one swatch of material. “I made it.”
“You made it?” Veronika bumps the unnamed brunette out of the way when I bob my head. “Very mode. I totally approve.” She twists her torso to face Rafael like he oversees my schedule. “She must accompany me to the boutique to help pick out some items.” Her whine reminds me of the tantrums Tillie used to undertake when she was five. “Please, Raffy. She clearly has an eye for fashion.” Her eyes return to me, begging and wet. “Wilfred Iwona’s garments are exceptional, but the stitchwork doesn’t show this skill level. If you could fix them for me, I’ll never be on another worst dressed list.”