Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 34243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
No one is to take photos of him and Miz Tiara.
No one is to take photos of him and Miz Tiara.
I drag myself into the shower. I let the water run over me for a long time, and I don’t cry because I still can’t. The tears are in me somewhere, crowded up behind my ribs, but they’re not coming out.
I turn off the water and change into the dress Arkane’s handpicked for me. Black silk. Swirly. Pretty. Matching heels with ribbons that lace up my ankles. He had it delivered yesterday with a note that just said “for tonight” in his handwriting, and I had squealed—actually squealed, like a cartoon—when I opened the box.
I face myself in the mirror.
I probably look like a princess. Probably. But I can’t be sure because everything is just a blur.
I take a deep breath.
I want to tell myself it’s okay.
But the words...
They don’t just materialize in my mind.
I’m already stepping out of the room, and everything’s still a blur.
I’m going down the stairs, and the staff I heard talking earlier, we meet again, and they’re all smiling at me like they weren’t just wondering a while ago if—
“Good evening, Miz Tiara.”
I actually manage a smile.
“Good evening.”
Because once their manners have rubbed off on you, you’re apparently contaminated for life.
And so it continues.
Me showing impeccable, just really impeccable manners as I join the rest of the family in the ballroom. It’s bigger than any ballroom has a right to be—high ceilings, chandeliers, a string quartet playing softly. Most of the family is there already. Aldrich and Joy, Raiden and Icelle, Lucius with his precise posture and a glass of something amber in his hand.
But the other Youngs—Benedict, Marius, and of course, him—
They’re still not here.
Maybe they’re in Spain, who knows?
Who the hell cares?
“Hey, you.”
I’m halfway across the dance floor when someone suddenly blocks my way.
“I know you.”
He’s older, but not too much. Maybe Arkane’s age? Silver-spooned like everyone here. And handsome. But he doesn’t make my skin crawl. Arkane’s cured me of that.
“You’re that girl with Arkane.” The slur in his voice is like a barometer. I’m thinking slightly past tipsy, but not quite drunk yet.
“I attend Cornwall with Icelle.”
“Whoa, whoa.” He starts laughing and looks at me in amazement. “This is rich. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a girl deny being with Arkane. Are you in your right mind?”
“Are you?”
The words are out before I even realize what I’m saying, but he just laughs it off. Whatever. I guess I’m finally cured of manners, too.
I’m about to walk past Mr. Almost Drunk when he suddenly cups my elbow.
“Hey, not so fast, babe—”
He whirls me around, and I’m about to knee him where it’s going to hurt most when I see it.
Arkane walking inside the ballroom.
And that blur? Everything suddenly becomes so painstakingly clear the moment I see Arkane come to a halt, his gaze narrowing when he sees me right next to the frog.
Because Mr. Almost Drunk?
That’s another thing that’s become perfectly clear. He’s not a man, but a frog, and isn’t there a story about kissing a frog to turn him back into a prince?
“If you’re not with him, then how about you and I...”
Well, this frog is just a frog, and my prince is already a prince, and I’m Tiara who doesn’t have a tiara, but that’s fine. My prince says a princess, and all that’s missing are the words—
Mr. Almost Drunk Turned Frog is pulling me closer to him, and I’m letting him.
Everything is still super, super clear because Arkane’s still not moving—
Mr. Frog lets go of my elbow and cups my chin. “Anyone told you how hot you are?”
His head starts to lower, and Arkane is slowly fading from my view.
Any moment now, I’m thinking.
Any moment now, any moment, any moment he’s going to stop this from happening.
He’s going to prove me wrong.
Prove everyone wrong.
He’s going to—
NO!
It’s only when another man’s lips touch mine that I realize—
Oh.
Oh, Mom.
It hits me with a sickening clarity the moment his mouth presses against mine. This is what she talked about. This is what I thought was B.S.
When you think you’re seeing things so clearly—that’s the trick.
Because it’s when your mind is lost in the blur, you can’t tell the difference between truth and suspicions, reality and fears.
I shove Mr. Frog off, and he falls back with a croak of protest.
“Hey!”
Arkane’s gone.
The story isn’t ending the way it’s supposed to—
And Icelle—
It’s the first time I’ve seen her running.
“What have you done?”
Her voice is slightly shaking. I think this is her at her most emotional.
“What have I done?” I sound defensive to my own ears.
“Shouldn’t you ask your brother?” In denial, too.
“Your brother who doesn’t want to have photos taken of us—”
“Because he knows about your mom.”
Because I’m an idiot, not a princess.
“He doesn’t want her to do things that will hurt you.”