Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Since a peek at his meticulous charts proved my mother never actually needed anything in the night—thanks to a heavy-duty sleeping pill that allowed her to rest in peace—I asked him if he’d like the night off to join the party. After all, we were giving out obscenely expensive Maverick Tech tablets that retailed for two thousand dollars on sale, to a bunch of rich people who could afford to buy twelve of their own. Why not spread the generosity around to the people who were actually in Sue’s life?
Because one thing I knew for sure was that I’d had Sue’s phone for almost a month, and not a single one of the friends she invited to the anniversary party had called or texted her once—not even to confirm they were coming.
But, in Reynard’s case, he jumped on the chance for a night off and decided he’d rather meet up with some friends and spend the night with people he did know, instead of partying with a bunch of strangers that he didn’t.
Our group traveled through the shabby east wing and out onto the circular landing, bypassing the second, third, and fourth officer stationed on the second floor.
Music streamed through the vents, doorjambs, and cracks of the drafty manor—welcoming one and all to a good time, and I made sure of it. Christie wanted the classical music and band that Sue and she agreed to, but I was in charge now, and I wanted to party like a woman in my late twenties, not like a woman in my late eighties.
“We’re about to blow this shit up,” I crowed, head bobbing and body bouncing down the stairs. “Christie, I better see you on the dance floor shaking it with the rest of the rich and gorgeous.”
“Mrs. Kim, please,” she cried, blushing away. “I couldn’t possibly. I’m here as a member of staff, not as a guest.”
“Well, between you and me,” I started, dropping my voice. “I won’t rat you out to the boss.”
She giggled, swatting my arm like we were conspiring to get away with something.
My party brought me to the doors of the ballroom, and then melted away. Whispering, giggling, and throwing me thumbs-up—the makeup artists escaped down the hallway toward the second sitting room where a nice dinner was waiting for them before they made the long drive back to the city.
That left me, Christie, Davis, and the two tuxedoed gentlemen—yes, tuxedos, gloves, and hair slicked back in the full pomp and circumstance. The men bowed to me, then to each other, before grasping the door handles and welcoming me inside.
Time stopped. Slowing to one awe-filled moment.
Soft, ivory flakes fell from the rafters, blanketing the snowy-white world in a dusting of magic. High above, aerialist angels wrapped in silk spun, soared, and danced through the air—transporting us to a world unknown.
Every detail down to the patterns on the forks was deliberate. The cream platform placed over the worn hardwood. The cream linens. The white rose centerpieces, and the white gowns, heels, tuxes, and bowties on all the laughing, flirting guests. Christie promised me she’d take the simple of simplest themes—white—and give me something that had never been done before. And the statement piece to her creation—
—was me.
The music stopped—a hush fell—as my dress and I swept into the room.
My wings crested overhead, catching the light from the chandeliers in its diamonds and thanking them with dancing rainbows. A pitch-black sheer bodice hugged my frame like a lover, delicately preserving my modesty with a swirling pattern of rubies that flowed down to my voluminous layered skirt—lining the hem of each tier with more rubies. And that’s where the effort to preserve modesty ended.
The skirt barely covered the apex of my thighs, and that’s because it was too busy parting down the middle and fanning out to reveal my black, ruby-encrusted stockings and black stiletto heels—those same, gorgeous satin heels stubbed with the citrine gems that graced my train.
Midnight gown, diamonds on my wings, rubies on my body, and citrines on my hem—I was the red admiral butterfly. A tiny, beautiful delicate creature that carried their multicolored bands and spots like I carried the loves of my life with me always: Micah, Rhodes, and Alexander.
Or at least that was the flowery shit Soo Min poured in Christie’s ear when she told her to find a dressmaker who could bring this spectacle to life. But if I knew my sister, the real reason she wanted a dress decked out in real diamonds, rubies, and citrines was so she’d get worldwide attention from wearing one of the most expensive gowns that ever existed—and with the dress coming at a cool eight million, she put herself at number seven on the list.
That is until the party was over and Sanders and Sanderson’s Jewelers ripped the thing off my back and pried every rented gem off of it—along with the ruby choker, earrings, and tiara. That was why we had to endure armed cops at every entrance and exit, and one following me at all times. The jewelers would make sure they collected the publicity coming their way, and their stones—before the night was over.