TWENTY-THREE
* * *
STEVIE
I look hot as fuck.
I twirl in the mirror again, admiring myself as the train follows my movements. The gold embellishments glitter in the light. I toe on my classic nude Louboutin heels and give myself one last check, making sure that my makeup isn’t shiny and that my hair hasn’t shifted.
I even went over to Deanna’s before she left for work to have her put my hair in an elaborate half-up Dutch braid crown. There are a handful of bobby pins sticking uncomfortably into my skull, but it’s worth it.
My makeup is subtle, a brown eye with smudged black liner and a nude-pink lip. The overall look is giving a Greek goddess vibe, just like Aleks remarked the first time he saw the dress.
I snap a quick selfie in the mirror and send it to him with a wink emoji.
He replies instantly.
ALEKS: You look hot, baby
ALEKS: I think I just came
I snort, rolling my eyes before clicking it off.
After our night together, things shifted. They feel easier.
He brought over tacos for lunch this week while I was deep in the painting groove. It was super sweet. He sat with me while I painted and just played a game on his phone, chattering away every once in a while. But even when we didn’t speak, it was a comfortable silence. Something I’ve never experienced before. Just being around him brings me peace, and the little things he does make my heart flutter more than any grand gesture. I used to think I was Chase’s princess, but Aleks has shown me what it is like to truly be treated like a queen. We plan to meet up tomorrow; he took the night off and has some cute dinner planned. He’s been super hush about it, and it’s adorable.
Guilt slithers into my stomach as I remember my night with Blade a week ago. I had a major debrief with Deanna the following morning, who basically told me that I should embrace my pussy power. But what I’d concluded was that I was all-in on Aleksander. Even if we weren’t technically exclusive, it felt wrong. Plus, something else seemed entirely off about the whole situation. The entire time I was with Blade, my mind kept wandering to Aleks. And it wasn’t in some “oh, I can’t stop thinking about him” kind of way but more of a “this reminds me of him” way…
My phone buzzes, and I pick it up to see three notifications. A bell alerting me that Blade has started a livestream, a text from Deanna imploring me to spill my drink on Felicity if the chance arises, and an update from the driver my father ordered letting me know he is a few minutes out.
I tuck my phone into my purse and swing by to my fridge to pull out an old handle of Fireball. Too lazy to grab a shot glass, I take a swig right from the bottle. The spicy liquor goes down easily, instantly warming my insides and leaving a deep cinnamon taste behind. A little liquid courage is needed before I spend the rest of my night around my insufferable ex and hawkish mother.
Throwing the bottle back into the fridge, I grab my purse and make sure my invitation is inside along with my lipstick, ID, and credit card. A glance at my phone confirms that my driver is downstairs, so I open my door to leave and stop.
There’s a bouquet of pink roses.
Of course.
Lifting them, a note falls to the ground. I pick it up, opening it to read the message within.
Until tonight xo
Lovely.
I turn back into my apartment, throwing them in the trash.
I give myself a smile in the mirror next to my door.
It looks fake.
I try again, imagining my heel digging into Chase’s back.
That’s it. Perfection.
***
The car rolls to a stop in the oval driveway outside the Taylors’ residence. Well, one of their many residences. They decided to host their party at their Orange County mansion this year. The location is more convenient than their Napa or Palm Springs house, meaning I can actually go home after the event instead of staying at a nearby hotel or with my parents in the Hills.
Rolling my shoulders, I take the driver’s hand and step out of the car and into the snake pit.
A camera flashes.
There are a handful of photographers stationed around the entrance, capturing everyone as they arrive and head into the party. They’ll probably move inside once the event starts, documenting everything for the Taylors to brag about later.
I make my way up the steps and am greeted by one of the security guards at the double-door. I pull my invitation from my clutch, flashing it. He crosses my name off the list before gesturing inside.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Andwell.”
Unlikely.
I enter the foyer, stepping onto the white marble floor. A server offers me a flute of champagne, which I graciously accept but refrain from taking a sip of, knowing I can’t begin drinking until the toast is called.
I take in the foyer. There are two large marble pillars on either side, framing the double staircase leading to the second floor. A large raindrop crystal chandelier makes its statement in the middle of the room. The Orange County mansion is one of the Taylors’ newer constructions; they purchased it only a few years back for a good sixty million, if I remember correctly. Felicity bragged about it because it isn’t too far from one of the Broadshires’ homes.
Instantly, I feel eyes on me. I make sure to straighten my spine and keep my expression one of neutral content. Scanning the crowd, I clock a large number of familiar faces. A few smile my way as our eyes make contact, and I make sure to smile and dip my head back.
There are probably fifty people already here, the foyer seeming a little crowded. The Taylors must be waiting for everyone to arrive before giving the toast and allowing guests to mill about the house.
The chattering of conversation rises over a live string quartet, maybe a piano as well. Where the musicians are set up, I have no clue. Probably farther into the house. Knowing the Taylors, the event will spill into their immaculately manicured backyard as the evening progresses.
I spot my mother, father, brother, and Vittoria by the left side set of stairs, near one of the main pillars. A glance up confirms Mr. and Mrs. Taylor positioned on the second-story balcony. I accidentally make eye contact with Annabelle, and she leans in to whisper something to her husband.
He immediately raises his champagne flute, giving it a clink.
Ah, so they weren’t waiting for everyone to arrive.
They were waiting for me.
Aren’t I special.
“Thank you all for gathering here today for our annual ball. We are excited to kick off the summer with the celebration of the year,” Henry Taylor drawls.
Celebration of the year is big talk. Especially considering a lot of the people in this room also hold annual parties and celebrations. People of higher status than the Taylors. It’s an interesting angle for them to pull.
“We hope you will enjoy the champagne throughout the party, and please feel free to stop by the outdoor bar for cocktails—including a custom event cocktail created by my lovely daughter, Felicity, and her new beau, Chauncy Broadshire.”
My eyes twitch as I try to prevent them from rolling at the obvious display.
I had a feeling they would try to peacock this event, I just didn’t realize how blatantly. I mean, Chase and I have only been broken up a few weeks; Felicity is playing a dangerous game. I don’t plan to get back with Chase, but she doesn’t know that, and a three-week “break” for us is nothing new in the grand scheme of things. What is interesting is that Chase would go along with this all while still trying to win me back. Quite stupid, if you ask me.