by CN Thornton
"I will not deny that you are sexy as fuck. It's a given; it's basically your birthright. But vaginas and me…" He shook his head and shivered. "Just thinking about penetrating one of those little monsters makes little Bash want to concave. I'm strictly dickly," he said matter-of-factly.
"Strictly dickly... Yeah, you really are gay." I laughed.
"Say it again." Bash giggled.
"You really are gay."
"No, the first part."
"What? Strictly dickly?" I asked, my forehead creasing.
Bash laughed again. "It just sounds funny when you say it."
"You're an idiot," I mumbled as I took another bite of my food and handed him the tray. "Thank you for breakfast and the tease."
"The tease?"
"I can't overindulge with salty foods today. I'll bloat like a pregnant woman and my mother will kill me."
"After tonight, you are going to be free." He got up and left the room, taking the tray of leftover food with him.
I smiled to myself. I couldn't believe I would soon be free from the clutches of my mother. No longer would I have to succumb to her manipulative ways and the tight reigns she had on me.
I was so happy I had finally realized that I was in control, not her. I had the power, and tonight I would make it known to her.
It was half past three when Bash came in to help me get ready. While I took a honey-and-milk bath, Bash prepared my outfit, its accessories, and got everything out to do my hair and makeup.
The honey and milk gave my skin a soft, silky feeling my mother said men would love, so she required me to bathe in it the day of.
I didn't plan on fucking away my v-card tonight, so I didn't see the point.
Memories of the other night with Theodore Fallmonte flooded my mind. The thought of having almost lost my virginity to an ass-hat like him made me cringe inside.
My first time was going to be special, even if I had to wait five years for it to happen.
"Here is the lingerie I picked out for you to wear tonight. It's very tasteful." Bash handed me a white, lacey thong that I quickly slipped on.
"Where’s the bra?" I asked, toying with the sash on my silk robe.
"Oh, you won't need one," Bash replied as I walked over to my bed to pick up my dress. "The dress your momster sent over is strapless and gorgeous."
I smirked. "Her sense of fashion is the only good quality she has."
The dress was indeed beautiful. It was a blood-red, formfitting gown with a bit of a flair at the bottom and a corset design in the back. The shoes looked to be about three inches high and matched the dress perfectly.
"Okay, let’s get this mess over with," I said unenthusiastically before stepping into the gown.
Bash helped me with the corset ties in the back and then I sat down at my vanity so he could do my hair and makeup.
He kept my hair simple, straightening it but giving it a little inward flip at the ends and adding clip-in bangs for a bit of an exotic vixen look. The makeup was natural; he just contoured and highlighted to enhance my best features.
"You look gorgeous." Bash said as he helped me to my feet.
And I did.
When I looked into the mirror, I could barely recognize myself.
I saw the familiar hair color, eye color and my creamy skin tone, but I was surprised to see the extra cleavage the dress created and my curves making themselves present through the snug fit of the dress.
"Well, take a picture because you will never see this…" I gestured to my body… "wrapped up in fancy package ever again."
I stepped into the matching heels and moved to look at my reflection in the floor-length mirror.
There was no question that my mother would be somewhat pleased with me tonight, despite the hair.
When I finished putting on my earrings, necklace and bracelet it was a quarter after four. The car service would be arriving to pick me up in just ten minutes.
"I don't think I can do this," I rushed out as I turned away from the mirror.
"Why not?" Bash asked.
I shook my head. "This entire event tonight is just guys paying money to date us. It's disgusting. The message it sends is that any woman can be bought, as long as you have enough money."
"Okay, I see where you’re coming from." Bash took my hands and led me over to the chaise lounge at the foot of my bed, then sat with me. "But just for tonight, try to forget about all that and have a good time."
"Bash..."
"Just keep in mind three things."
"What?"
"Eat, drink and be merry."
"That's easy for you to say; you don't have to spend the evening with my devil of a mother. Fuck it. I'm not going."
"Emma, remember what you said. You aren't doing this for your mother, you are doing it for you. I realize that now. If you don't do this, you will never have that peace of mind."
"Bash, I—"
"It's just one more night, Em." He smiled at me before leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. Then he rose to his feet and offered his hand. "Let me walk you out."
The entire trip down to the lobby was filled with a painful silence. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to spend the next few hours faking my way through interactions with the socialites my parents associated themselves with. I didn't want to pretend like my mother and I were the perfect duo. I didn't want to stand up on some stage and let disgustingly rich men bid on me. Most of all, I didn't want to spend the evening on a date with whoever would end up buying me.
Everything about tonight was so repulsive in my eyes, but I had to do it.
The drive to the location took no longer than thirty minutes, and I was surprised to find the event was at the Topanga.
The car came to a stop right outside the ramp entrance and the driver came around to open my door. In one swift movement, he bowed to me.
"Thank you." I said politely and made my way to the ramp that was decorated with a red runner.
Both gentlemen flanking the doors of the Topanga bowed to me as I passed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught one making a suggestive motion in my direction. Shaking my head disapprovingly, I continued on my way and kept my mouth shut, despite the many un-ladylike things I wanted to say to them.
When I came around the corner I heard my mother call my name. Stopping in my tracks, I took a deep breath to relax myself and put a faux smile on my face.
"Mother," I greeted in an overly enthusiastic voice as I turned toward her.
"My sweet Emmaline. You look radiant." She kissed both my cheeks, bringing on a bitter face that I quickly disposed of before she could notice.
"Thank you, Mother. You look beautiful yourself."
She laughed as she looped her arm through mine and led me over to the front desk.
"There are just a few papers you need to sign stating that you willingly give your permission to be part of the auction, and then we can get you settled in." She picked up a clipboard and pen and handed them to me.
"Where do I sign?" I asked, my eyes scanning over the paper, not reading but searching for the line.
"Right here." She lifted up the paper and pointed at a spot near the bottom on the back.
"Okay." I flipped the paper over and signed, then set it back on the desk.
"Perfect," my mother said. "Now follow me."
The tone of her voice sent shivers running down my spine. She seemed almost too pleased with me tonight. Even on the best of days, she seemed perpetually irritated because I lacked everything she wanted in a daughter.
I was usually her biggest disappointment, but today I seemed like her greatest pride.
CHAPTER SIX
Like always, I put on my best face and turned into my mother’s idea of the perfect daughter. Every step I took behind her led me deeper and deeper into a life I did not want.
Just turn and walk away. You owe her nothing, I thought to myself.
Every time I saw someone I knew from all my years playing the debutante role, I
simply smiled sweetly and inclined my head like my mother had taught me.
After what felt like forever, I finally entered the banquet room.
"Margery!" I heard my mother call in her faux-friendly voice. I suppressed the urge to groan out loud.
Margery was my mother’s “rival,” as she’d come from very old money and was richer than my parents. Her constant philanthropy projects also made her quite popular with everyone, which didn't sit well with my mother, who had it in her mind that she should be the center of attention all the time. Naturally, I somehow always got brought into it all, my mother finding any little thing about me to brag about—even though she really thought I wasn't doing enough with my life. It had gotten even worse after the rumors had begun circulating that Margery's perfect daughter, Kylie, was not so perfect after all.
It turned out that Kylie had fallen into drugs and started to socialize with the wrong crowd. Though no one had any solid evidence behind this accusation, Kylie had stopped showing up to these events.
"Margery, darling," my mother greeted her. My mother always said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and she did. Margery, clueless, had no idea how much my mother loathed her.
"Eleanor, hello," she greeted back, pulling my mother into a gentle hug. "Oh, and Emmaline, you look darling!" She turned her attention to me. "Your hair, it's unique."
"Thank you, ma'am. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing," I replied kindly. "How is Kylie doing?"
Margery smiled sweetly. "She is doing wonderfully. She is down in Africa doing some charity work. Always thinking of others, my daughter. I couldn't be more proud."
"She was always a sweet girl. Too bad she couldn't be here today. I would have loved to see her in her dress."
Margery laughed lightly, apparently amused. "She is only eighteen, too young to be participating in this sort of event."
Not knowing exactly how to respond, I turned to my mother. "I'm going to go to the ladies’ room to freshen up a bit before dinner," I said.
Bowing my head to Margery, I gave a sweet smile and headed to the bathroom. Not that I needed it—I just needed to exit that conversation. I could only fake it for so long. Especially when every other word that came out of my mouth had to be a lie.
I had barely finished washing my hands, just to give myself something to do for a moment, when my mother came into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
"Mother," I said.
"Fix your attitude. I will not have you embarrassing me tonight. If you step one toe out of line, God help me, I will send you back to the hospital."
I rolled my eyes. "Please, Mother. Both times you sent me there, I had a blast. I literally begged them to keep me when they discharged me three days later."
She brought her hand across my face, filling the room with a loud smack.
A great surge of anger filled me and for a split second, all I could see was red. I wanted to punch her in the face, but even I knew that wouldn't do any good. Not to mention, I wasn't a fighter.
Pursing my lips, I pushed past her and left the restroom. I made sure to correct my posture as I made my way back into the busy banquet hall. Then, just as I had been taught, I glided across the floor in an elegant manner.
Like every other time we’d come to this kind of event, our family’s table was located in the third row. My father, William, who was already seated there, rose to his feet.
"Emmaline," he said coldly.
I could already smell the alcohol on his breath, and in that moment I was so glad I no longer lived under their roof. That first drink always turned into several, and then would come the beatings.
"Father," I replied to him as kindly as I could.
"You are no daughter of mine," he hissed as he took his seat again.
Tonight would be interesting. Having to sit beside my father always was. Before Camille got married, she’d been the one to sit beside him at these things. If she were here now as a married woman, she would be expected to sit second to Father, between myself and her husband.
Proper seating was complicated. The wife always sat to the right of her husband and the children, starting with the firstborn, would sit to his left.
Ten minutes later Thomas and Cote Almira entered the room. I smiled and waved at them as they sat at the table beside us. With them were four of their five daughters—Kimmie, Dakota, Peyton and Naomi. As Dakota settled in beside her sisters, the head of the society, Mercedes, made an announcement.
"Welcome. It is lovely to see all our beautiful eligible women here today at this event. I am sure it will be a great time and a moment to remember. Before we get started I would like to let everyone know that dinner will be served after the charity event. Plates are one hundred dollars each and you have a selection of lobster, steak, shrimp or quail.
"Now, let us bring up the lovely ladies." She held out her free arm expectantly and I knew this was my cue to rise and follow the others up to the stage.
Mercedes introduced us all as a car salesman would, reading off our names, ages, ethnicities, and special skills.
The first girl was a curvaceous blonde named Grace. She was the same age as myself, Polish and French, and could speak six languages fluently.
Then came the bidding.
"Twenty-thousand dollars," called the first man.
He was quickly outbid by another man, who nearly tripled the offer. The bidding quickly jumped around the room, gradually climbing higher and higher until it ended at a hefty sum of six hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars. My stomach turned almost instantly.
The next girl was tall, thin and had bright red hair. Her name was Nicole. She was Irish-American, and held an Associate’s degree in philosophy. She went for ninety-thousand.
Four more girls were called and then it was my turn.
I easily stood out from the others simply because my hair was still the platinum blond I’d dyed it two weeks ago. That and the blood-red dress.
"As our final lovely lady, we have Miss Emmaline Lefevre." She flourished her hand for an added effect. "She is twenty years old and pure Linacrean. She owns a well-established photography business and currently attends Ludivine."
I gazed out over the crowd as numbers jumped around the room and began to climb. I thought my heart would stop when a man that looked to be twice my age bid a very high amount. Only when he was outbid by a decent-looking guy in his twenties did I relax.
Then it happened again. A frail old man who looked to be in his late fifties bid well over seven hundred thousand. When Mercedes began calling for final bids, I felt like my life was over. There was certainly no way it could get any worse than this, right?
I would have to spend the rest of my evening on a date with a guy who looked like he had one foot already in his grave. He could literally be my grandfather.
Just before she brought down her gavel, another voice called out.
"One million dollars."
Several gasps filled the room.
I gazed around, curious as to whom my rescuer was, secretly hoping he was at least pleasing to the eyes. If he looked decent, I might actually be able to make it through the night. My search ended quickly as I eyed a man crossing the floor, carrying himself with an aura of intensity. The way his perfect eyebrows furrowed made him look even more severe than when I’d last seen him.
"The auction is now over," Mercedes spoke as my rescuer made it to the stage.
"The banquet dinner will begin in thirty. Ladies and gentlemen who have participated in the event, you are now released to spend the remainder of your evening getting better acquainted."
Oh God. Now I had to spend the evening with this man.
Somehow I found myself wishing I’d ended up with the grim reaper who had bid before him. Certainly a night talking about digestive problems with a grandpa who smelled like mothballs would be better than sitting in with this guy.
As I followed the others off the stage, I kept reminding myself to not slouch my shoulde
rs, to look straight ahead, to smile and glide despite how much I wanted to shoot daggers at everyone in the room and stomp off the stage.
"My lady."
He brought my hand up to meet his lips, and I forced a smile.
"Theodore," was all I could say.
The couples quickly dispersed, leaving the banquet room, Theodore and I doing the same. As we got into a sleek, black car, a million thoughts ran through my head.
Where are we going?
What are we going to do?
Is he still mad about our last encounter?
What are his intentions?
Why would he bid so much money on me?
I didn't bother speaking to him until we pulled up in front of a massive building almost twenty minutes later. My door was opened by the driver and I got out, wanting to quickly put some space between Theodore and myself.
At a glance, I knew we were in the town square. I had only ever been here once, by accident when I’d gotten lost on my first day at Ludivine.
"Where are we?" I asked Theodore.
"The Beacon; my home for the time being."
I tried not to think too much on his words as I looked up at the building, taking in the entirety of the view. The building was made of beautifully colored glass that rose up several stories—at least twenty. A sign over the entrance read “The Beacon.”
"Come," he said as the doorman opened the door.
Just get through the evening. It's just one evening, that's all.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside. I barely got a glance at the immaculately designed lobby because he darted straight for the elevator doors.
The elevator was massive and had cushioned benches lining the walls. A minimum of fifteen men could have stood in the center comfortably, though it felt so small with only Theodore and myself inside.
All I could think about was last time I'd seen him. The argument we’d had and the words he’d said.
I’d heard many horror stories from other debutantes about wealthy men doing terrible things to them when they went on dates, but they never said anything in public for fear of tarnishing their pure reputations. Although, from our last encounter I highly doubted Theodore was that type.