Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
The party was at the Tuscan Rose, a hotel owned by old family friends. The ballroom was decorated with fresh flowers, and golden flutes hung from the ceiling. My father liked to show off his wealth with these elaborate parties he didn’t even enjoy. He preferred to impress people he didn’t like rather than having meaningful relationships with people he did like. I wasn’t a psychologist, but I’d consider him a sociopath.
Victor got me a glass of champagne then returned his hand to the small of my back.
I felt like I was back in time, married to Victor, one of the daughters of the Skull King.
We got a lot of stares. My own family members studied me from across the room like a new type of mold that hadn’t been discovered. They were nosy enough to stare, but not interested enough to actually speak to me.
“I don’t miss this.”
Victor drank from his champagne then looked at me. “I do, actually.”
“You like these superficial parties?”
“No, but I like being with you.”
The line caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure if I could meet his stare. “I feel like I’m pretty poor company.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m a very bitter and angry person…”
He gave a slight smile. “I guess I like angry and bitter.” He took notice of the empty glass in my hand. “I’ll get us another.” He walked away, as if he wanted to give me a moment to recover from the unexpected affection he’d thrown at me.
I stood there alone, too stiff to mingle with people who didn’t like me.
“You look beautiful, Laura.”
I turned to see my father behind me. Anytime I was face-to-face with him, I wanted to strangle him. Bring him to his knees and make him sob for his life. The blood lust was so intense I nearly shattered the flute in my grasp. “Thank you, Leonardo.”
His eyes showed their disappointment.
“Nice party.”
“Thank you. Seems like everyone is having a good time.”
Not everyone. “The short rib pockets are good. I’ve already eaten five.”
“Haven’t had a chance to try one.”
“And the brie tarts. Those are good too.”
He gave a smile. “You’ve always loved food.”
Yep. The extra fifteen pounds I carried proved that. “I appreciate the finer things in life.”
“Then you must get that from me.”
I didn’t get anything from you. “Maybe.”
Victor returned and handed me the glass. The empty one was given to a passing waiter. “Beautiful party, sir,” Victor said. “It’s nice to have the night off.”
“Well, you’ve earned it.” My father gripped him by the shoulder, squeezed him like he was the son he never had. “You’re a good man, Victor.”
“Thank you, sir.”
My father gave us a final look before he walked off. When he returned to a group of people, his arm moved around the waist of a woman younger than I was. My disgust for him grew.
“I think he’s buying it,” I said.
“I do too.” He drank from his flute. “Your coldness has made it seem genuine.”
It was nice not to be completely fake.
“I have an idea,” he volunteered.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Then why even suggest it?”
“Because it’ll work.”
“Alright, I’m all ears.” I faced Victor and prepared to hear a complex plan.
He held my gaze. “We get engaged.”
My heart did a flop.
“It’s exactly what he would want. You would get closer to the family, and you would become loyal to me—and, therefore, him. He’d drop his guard even more, and then you could sink your teeth into him. Make him think he has his daughter back for good.”
“I think it would be obvious if we got engaged so soon.”
“We would wait a couple weeks. Let them see me sleep overnight at your apartment.”
“If we do that, you’re sleeping on the couch.”
I caught a glance of disappointment he couldn’t cover. “That’s fine.”
It was a good idea, even if I personally didn’t like it. “Alright.”
A couple nights later, we went out to dinner—then back to my place.
When my father watched me, he thought he saw the beginning of a rekindled relationship, but what he actually saw was two people planning to shoot him to death. It was nice to have the upper hand—even if he didn’t know it.
I’d rented a small apartment that I’d found online. The owner was on vacation for the summer, so he rented out the place to someone for extra cash. That someone was me. It had one bedroom, a sitting room with a dining table, and a little kitchen. It was bigger than my apartment in Paris, so it was an upgrade, and it was a fraction of the price of my Parisian place.
Victor entered, took a quick look around, and gave a nod. “Nice place.”
We used to live in a beautiful apartment, two entire floors, a formal dining room for entertaining. It was nothing compared to my father’s estate, but it was still a dream home for most people. We’d sold the place and split the equity, and I bet Victor had moved in to another place even better than the last.