My excitement came off me in waves until I remembered that I didn’t have anything appropriate to wear for the party. Thankfully, I was allowed to have free range of Cora and Casey’s closets to find a suitable dress.
It was insane. I'd never seen anything like it.
I went through everything. I swear, there was more in their closets than in the whole mall in Breakers Flats. I spent two hours searching for something to wear and didn’t even care that I could hear Colton’s late-night activities in the next room. He was definitely having a good time, but no chick is that animated during sex. He was watching porn, or at least, I think he was. Either way, hearing him come through the wall got me so fucking hot but it was worth it. Hearing that low groan was sexy as hell but it didn’t do anything for the whole stupid attraction to him thing.
Once I’d finally found a dress and returned to the safety of the pool house, I had no option but to finish myself off. I instantly cursed myself for thinking about him the whole time.
Today was a mess of people running around and I was annoyed to find that mom had given up the pool house for extra party storage. People were in and out all day long, making today perfect for exploring. With Colton out for the day and everyone else busy setting up for the party, I was free to search for every hidden bar and treasure in the main house.
It’s no secret that I’m starting to make a reputation for myself in Bellevue Springs, some of it good, some of it so bad that I’m surprised people aren’t coming after me with pitchforks and fires. Though, if anyone is lighting fires around here, it’ll be me.
My fingers run back through my thick hair as my eyes sparkle. I feel as though I’m living a real modern-day Cinderella story, only the prince in this story is nothing but an entitled, rich turd.
My gaze sweeps down over the black dress which I borrowed from Cora. It’s absolutely stunning with a straight neckline that flows up to the thin straps which sit just off my shoulders. The fabric melts down my body, hugging my curves and making me feel incredible.
My thigh pokes out through the high slit in the floor-length gown, showing off my nude pumps which make me appear a million feet tall. I feel incredible which only serves as a reminder for how much I don’t belong here.
Glancing up at the clock, I decide it’s time to get a move on. I’m all for being fashionably late but there’s a fine line between that, and being a rude dick.
I throw my phone down on my bed, touch up my maroon lips, and walk out the door like I'm on a catwalk.
This is going to be one of the best nights of my life. I can feel it in my bones. There’s going to be all sorts of people here, celebrities, socialites, and the rich and famous. The best of the best will be here and somehow, that includes me tonight.
I walk out across the property and find people lingering around in fancy gowns, all of them laughing and having an incredible time sipping on their expensive champagne. My mood instantly begins to plummet. None of these women are wearing black gowns. All of them are dressed in white and look amazing.
I take a shaky breath, unsure of why I feel so damn nervous.
I walk through the crowds, feeling as though I have every eye on my back. They’re probably wondering who I am, and the ones who already know are most likely scowling or gossiping about my misfortunes.
I try to put it to the back of my mind. I can’t get inside my head like that or I’m going to ruin it for myself. If anything, these people have no clue who I am, and because my face isn’t splashed over the front of some ridiculous magazine, they wouldn’t give two shits about me.
I walk in through the back door and cut through the staff quarters. I get grins and adoring looks from the few members of the staff who I’ve come to know over the past week and naturally, there’s a scowl from Harrison. He would have preferred that I stayed locked up in the pool house for the night, like Rapunzel up in her tower.
I cut through the massive kitchen and try not to get in anyone's way. There are at least ten chefs madly working at the hot stoves. Waitresses are busily filling glasses of champagne while waiters run in and out with trays of food.
I duck and dodge through them while scanning for mom. I haven’t seen her since dinner last night so she still has no idea that I’ve been invited. I would have loved to show her my borrowed dress. She would have loved seeing me all dressed up like this, but I’m sure I’ll see her at some point during the night.
I reach the back entrance to the ballroom and let out another shaky breath. Here goes nothing; my first elite party, and hopefully not my last.
The door swings wide and I step through.
It’s like I’m transported into a different world, a freaking fairytale kind of world. It’s enchanting.
The lights are dimmed while soft music fills the room with joy. People fill every corner while more pour through the main entrance. Massive diamond chandeliers hang from the ceiling while the huge floor to ceiling glass doors have been opened wide to showcase the beautiful gardens.
There’s a huge dance floor that’s filled with loved-up couples in the most amazing outfits. Gowns don every woman, making them seem as though they’ve just made a stop here on their way to the Met Gala. The suits though … I’ve never really understood men and their suits until now. The men have brought their A-game tonight and for the first time in my life, I’m drooling over fifty-year-old men who look like they'd be fucking bosses in the boardroom and the bedroom.
I make my way around the room, taking in the black and white theme. There’s not a splash of color to be seen yet somehow it just works. A waitress walks past me with a tray filled with champagne flutes, and I quickly scoop one off with a warm smile. She nods her head politely and I thank her before she scurries away. I take a mental note to learn her name later, feeling like we’ll probably become good friends throughout the night.
I lift the champagne to my lips and resist pulling a face. “Holy mother of baby Jesus. What the fuck is this shit?”
This is definitely not the cheap fruity shit I’m used to drinking.
“That, my dear,” comes a familiar voice from behind me as a suited arm slips underneath mine. “Is what we fancy people like to call expensive champagne.”
I grin up at Milo, wondering where these people keep their Smirnoff's and Bacardi Breezers. “It tastes like expensive piss,” I tell him.
“It’s an acquired taste,” Milo laughs and nods toward one of the waitresses who comes scurrying over to him. He plucks the champagne flute out of my hand and instantly hands it over to her. “Bring the lady something fruity,” he tells her, “and keep them coming. She’s not a big champagne drinker.”
“Right away, sir,” the waitress says, nodding and slipping away while making it seem as though she was never there in the first place.
“Well, well,” I say, staring up at Milo like I’m seeing him with brand new eyes. “What happened to the Milo who wanted to be the cream in the middle of the gangbang sandwich?”
“Shut up,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You need to learn the language of pompous ass if you want to fit in around here. It’s kind of a requirement.”
“It makes you sound like a douchebag,” I laugh. “What are you doing here anyway? If I knew you were coming, I would have asked you to be my date and you could have escorted me in like I’m a big deal.”
Milo scoffs under his breath. “My father would have loved that. He’s been waiting for the day that I bring a girl to one of these bullshit events. In fact, come and dance with me. It’ll get him off my back for at least a few months.”
“At least let me get my drink first.”
Milo shakes his head and takes my hand. “She’ll find you,” he promises. “Now come along so I can pretend to be straight for the night.”
I follow along. “Is being gay that much of a big deal with your parents?” He scoffs and glances back at me as though I’m speaking another language. “In that case,” I laugh, “I might even let you put your hand on my ass.”
<
br /> His face scrunches up but he laughs. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Milo gets me onto the dance floor and he instantly spins me around, collecting my body with ease and moving me across the floor. I can’t help but laugh as my gown moves with my body, making me feel as though I’ve been taking dance lessons for years. “Wow, Mr. Rinaldi, you can take me out dancing any day,” I tell him, knowing damn well that this effortless dance is coming from his expertise leading, rather than me fumbling around not knowing the difference between a foxtrot and the salsa.
“Shut up,” he teases. “Any of the guys you’ve met at school could dance like this. They just choose not to show it because they don’t have somebody to share it with. Trust me, even Colton could spin you around the floor and make you feel like a woman with his moves.”
“Colton?” I laugh. “Yeah, right. He seems like the kind to trip over his own feet.”
He shakes his head. “Not even close.”
I look at him with an urgency to change the topic, not wanting to ruin my night talking about Colton. Milo’s hand travels low on my back and I notice him glancing over my shoulder. “Your dad?”
“Yep.”
I nod and press my body close to his and smother my laugh as his arm wraps tighter around my waist. “That should do it,” I say, tilting my face to meet his eyes. “You never told me what you’re doing here.”
“Oh, right,” he says as though my earlier question had completely slipped his mind. “I think I mentioned earlier in the week that my dad is on the school board with Carrington. They share a lot of business contacts. He hates parties like this but missing them would be a mistake. When his contacts are loose on alcohol and having a good time, dad always manages to close their business deals and open new ones.”
“And you?” I ask, slightly impressed with his father’s cunningness.
“Come on,” he laughs. “Like you could keep me away from this shit. Have you seen the guys in their suits? They’re like a walking wet dream. Not to mention, these parties are always off the hook. Just wait until all the old douchebags leave for their 10 pm bedtime and all that’s left are the younger people. It gets fucking insane.”
“No shit. Really?” I question, excited with the idea of having a wild night after all the classiness of the party disappears.
“Uh-huh. Fucking epic, bro. Just you wait.”
Milo glances up once again and with a relieved sigh, he puts a little space between us and his hand raises to a much more respectable part of my lower back. “Oh, look,” he says, coming to a stop. “The waitress is back with your drink.”
Just as promised, a fruity drink waits for me on her tray and she happily hands it over after asking if there’s anything else she can do for us. Once she hurries away to take orders from the other guests, Milo leads me off the dance floor and through the massive backdoors. As we wind our way through the beautiful gardens that Charles is so proud of, I loop my arms through his so I don’t trip in the manicured grass.
“Did I mention that you look fucking delicious?” he asks.
“Me?” I scoff, gliding my eyes up and down his tall frame and taking in the suit that looks like it’s been tailored perfectly to fit his body, though I’m positive that it has. “Look at you. You look like the best kind of treat. It’s amazing you haven’t found some guy to sneak into back rooms with and screw you until you can’t walk.”
Milo laughs, scooping up a glass of who the hell knows from a passing waitress. “I’m sure I would have if we weren’t all hiding in our closets.”
“Good point. What’s the point of these parties anyway? Mom said it was some kind of tradition and as amazing as it’s been so far, it just looks like some kind of excuse to show off how much money they have.”
“Yeah,” he says. “When it comes to Charles Carrington, it probably is, but from what I’ve been able to work out, Colton’s mom used to be the one to host these elaborate parties. She was the big socialite around here. Everyone wanted to be her friend and attend the events that she went to. Her opinion meant everything, then when she left and took the girls, everything changed. That’s when Colton turned into a douche by the way. I think deep down he wanted to go with his mom but the story is that Charles demanded he stay because he needed his son to take over the family business one day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Charles misses his daughters but in this world, his daughters won’t offer him much except a pretty face to say good morning to, and an extra few faces to feed.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “Welcome to my world. Where the wealthy are assholes and everyone else doesn’t exist.”
“No shit,” I say. “I’m starting to see that.”
“Yeah, anyway, so everything changed. He lost a lot of business when Laurelle left, so he kept on the traditions that she put in place and somehow that managed to help. The rumor is that he does it because he’s still hung up on Laurelle and is hoping that the lifestyle might draw her back, but when it comes down to Charles, it’s about business. It’s always about business.”
“Damn … the Carrington’s are messed up.”
“Understatement of the year,” he grumbles as his lips pull up into a grin, just as amused by the topic as I am. He takes a sip of his drink and glances down at me. “So, the rest of your week seemed a little better.”
I shrug my shoulders. “The whole week was pretty shitty,” I tell him, “but there aren’t any dead bodies and I didn’t have to spend hard-earned cash on bail money so I guess it couldn’t have been that bad. It definitely could have been worse.”
“True,” he says. “After all, you are finishing off your week at the most elite party of the month while wearing a twelve thousand dollar gown.”
My mouth drops. “Twelve thousand dollars?” I shriek, struggling to keep my voice down. My gaze drops to the figure-hugging gown that’s currently wrapped around my body like a second skin. Twelve thousand dollars? Holy fuck. The only time I’ve ever seen that kind of money was when I went on a job with Nic and it was either pay up or die.
“Geez,” Milo laughs, discreetly looking around to make sure no one could overhear us. “Way to make it obvious that you’re not from around here.”
I roll my eyes. “Look at me, Milo. I’m not platinum blonde with fake boobs and a nose job. I have split ends and did my own freaking manicure, I think it’s pretty damn clear that I’m not from around here.”
“Good point,” he says as we finish the loop through the gardens. “Let’s head back up. You need another drink, and I’m starving.”
My eyes drop to my glass to find it empty and my brows shoot up. How the hell did that happen? I hardly even remember sipping on it. Though for that to have happened, I must have liked it.
We return to the party a moment later and hardly get through the door before the waitress Milo had tasked to ‘keep them coming’ is there with a new drink to replace the old. I gingerly take it from her, feeling like some sort of princess. No one has ever gone out of their way for me like that. Is this really how the wealthy live their lives?
I’ve never been so jealous in my life. There’s such a contrast from the way I’ve been brought up to how things are in this world. Every little thing is done differently. Just getting breakfast in the morning is different. I don’t think I’ve had to make my own bed once since being here.
Milo leads me across the massive room, dodging all the people while being careful not to step on anyone’s gown. He brings me to a stop in front of a long table that spans the whole length of the big room. Every little section of the table is piled high with food, all of which I wouldn't be able to name to save my life.
“Here,” Milo says, handing me a plate with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Load it up. I have a feeling it’s going to be a big night and you’re going to need your energy.”
Well, who am I to say no?
Chapter 13
My stomach aches with all the food I’ve eaten, and the tho
ught of standing up from this table and having people assuming it’s a baby bump protruding from my stomach is one of the scariest things I’ve ever felt. I don’t know why though. I’ve faced down all sorts of shit. Having a food baby shouldn’t be something that terrifies me but with all these elitist pigs at this party, one bad rumor could do a lot of damage.
I throw back what’s left of my fifth fruity drink as Milo laughs at the way his father just left the table. He’d come over to introduce himself to Milo’s special friend then Milo explained that I was Charles' niece from out of town, the same girl he’d heard all those stories about involving Coach Sylvester and Dean Simmons.
Realizing that I’m the only girl at school surrounded by five hundred boys, Milo’s father grinned proudly, clapped his son on the back, and chuffed about the Rinaldi DNA being the best. After all, out of all those boys, it was his son I’ve chosen to spend my time with.
“Geez,” I grin, pushing back from my chair and standing up, deciding that showing off my food bump is probably a better option than pissing myself in this gown. “He thinks you’re some kind of stud.”
“I am a fucking stud, babe” he laughs, digging a hand into his suit jacket that hangs on the back of his seat and producing four condoms. “He just slipped these in my pocket and reminded me that my grandmother is coming to town next week.”
My brows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He wants me to ask for the family ring. Apparently, the fact that your part of the Carrington line and a woman, means you’re suitable marriage material.”
“The fuck?” I laugh. “Damn, he’s got his wires crossed. He’s going to be pissed when he realizes that I’m a nobody from Breakers Flats.”
Tough Sh*t: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rejects Paradise Book 1) Page 14