Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“Thanks for letting me join and for lending me this,” I tell Megan and tug on the tight little black dress.
The stretchy fabric clings to me like a second skin and barely covers my ass. The strapless design shows more cleavage than what I’m usually comfortable with.
But then again, I don’t have party dresses, so I’m thankful to Megan. She even lent me a golden purse and spent about an hour doing my smoky eye makeup that highlights their hazel color and my bold red lipstick.
“Anytime. You look hot as fuck.” She narrows her eyes at my white sneakers. “Would look hotter with heels, though. Too bad we don’t wear the same shoe size.”
Thank God. It’d be embarrassing since I don’t know how to walk in heels.
The Draytons’ house stands proudly in the heart of the town center. A massive colonial-style home that exudes old-money charm with its white columns, dark-green shutters, and perfectly manicured lawn.
As Megan and I step inside, the lively energy envelops my senses.
The walls are adorned with framed certificates, degrees, and old photos showcasing the Draytons’ family history. The soft glow from crystal chandeliers overhead reflects off the polished hardwood floors, their surface so shiny, I can almost see my reflection.
The scent of freshly cut grass mixes with the smoky aroma of barbecue from the food stations set up on the lawn and visible through the large French doors. Laughter and chatter rise from the crowd of townsfolk and university students, creating a hum of excitement. The air is thick with the smell of expensive perfume, beer, and grilled meat, making my stomach churn as we navigate through clusters of people.
Bass-heavy music pumps through the speakers, vibrating the wooden floors, the subtle rhythm beating under my sneakers. The faint clink of champagne glasses being toasted echoes from a nearby gathering of local politicians and the university's elite, mingling in small groups.
Megan snatches two glasses from a well-groomed waiter and winks at him before she offers me one. “I fucking love rich people’s parties.”
I accept the flute of champagne but don’t drink it. Since the creep who rented his attic room to Violet and I tried to drug us with his ‘homemade’ wine, I never consume anything that’s not sealed.
My gaze flits over the crowd, trying to locate the hockey players. I see Drayton with his dad and the Vipers’ management crew, but the rest don’t appear to be nearby.
“Nice dress,” a tall, slender girl tells Megan as she sashays to us with two other stunningly beautiful girls.
Her blond locks cover her shoulders, and her sparkling silver dress catches the gleam of the chandeliers.
“Thanks.” Megan smiles, but it’s tight.
“I hope you didn’t pay much for it at the thrift shop. I donated it to charity last year.” Blondie motions at me. “That one, too. I wore them better, but it’s nice to see they found a new home.”
Megan’s face twists as if she ate something foul and she tries to pull on my hand, but I remain in place and plaster a smile. “Thanks for your charity. You’re such a good person.”
Her smile stiffens and nearly falls before she forces a wider one. Her friends, however, don’t hide their shock, their eyes throwing daggers in my direction.
“Please keep donating so we can wear nice things,” I add with a blinding smile.
“What’s your shoe size? I’ll send you heels so you can dress appropriately.”
“Thanks, but I can’t handle heels. Heard they hurt and I’m not a fan of pain.”
Megan squeezes my arm, and I think that’s her cue for me to cut it out.
“Funny.” The blond leans over and whispers in my ear, “Because you let Kane use you like a worthless rug. You looked like you were in pain, but maybe that’s a whore’s kink?”
My hand trembles around the flute of champagne and I stare at her with wide eyes.
She was there? I look at her again, but she’s not wearing the ring or the necklace. Is she part of Vencor? How…?
It’s her turn to smile as she pats my hair and murmurs, “You’re a worthless, penniless piece of trash, but I’m willing to consider you charity. That’s all you’ll ever be. Don’t look up. Don’t covet what’s not yours. Stay away from what’s mine before I squash you beneath my diamond heels.”
And then she walks away in a cloud of flowery perfume, followed by her two minions.
“Bitch,” Megan mutters under her breath.
“Who is she?”
“Isabella Drayton. Gavin’s twin sister. She comes from old money and thinks she has a monopoly over the team players, especially Kane. She’s a snotty princess, so just forget about her.”
But I can’t.
Not after I know she watched the initiation video.
Just…how many people watched that damn video?
My skin prickles as I sense eyes observing me, and I can almost hear whispers of recognition and judgment lingering in the corners of the room. The air ignites with subtle oppression and heats the blood in my veins.