Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I drop the lid onto the floor so I can inspect the entire contents of the box. I pick up the corners of the red fabric and lift the dress up, finding a pair of stilettos on the bottom of the box. It’s a little bit more flashy and revealing than what I would normally wear, but other than that, it’s actually a pretty dress.
I strip out of the sweater dress I’m wearing and slip on the red dress Xander sent. Surprisingly, it fits perfectly. The only problem I have is that the bra is showing since the dress itself is completely backless. I’m not really comfortable going without a bra, but I don’t think there’s going to be a way around it.
Stepping into the shoes that came with the dress, I notice how they match perfectly, and I can’t help but wonder who actually picked this out.
I doubt Xander has this kind of fashion sense.
All dolled up and ready to go, I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the clock to turn to seven. With every passing minute, the feeling in my gut that something terribly bad is happening tonight grows. The worst part of it all is that I’m actually hoping for Quinton to walk in. I could never get so lucky.
A part of me waits for the familiar clicking of the lock when he swipes his key card and walks into my dorm room. It never comes. Instead, another knock fills the room, and my stomach sinks even lower.
I open my door for the third time today, even though I want to do anything but that. This time, I find someone on the other side I did not expect—someone I loathe. Someone I wouldn’t touch if he was the last person on the planet.
“Well, hello, Aspen. I see you dressed up for me.” Matteo gives me a mischievous smile. “Are you ready to go, or do you need help with the dress?”
“One, I didn’t dress up for you. Two, I’m only going because I’m forced to. Three, if you even think about touching me with your slimy fingers, I will cut your dick off in your sleep.”
“That’s a bold threat for a rat like you. You hide out in your room all day, too scared of your own shadow, but you expect me to believe that you will come and find me at night to break into my room?”
I hate that he is right almost as much as I hate him.
Shoving past him, I walk into the hallway on shaky legs. I’m used to walking in high heels, but the anger and fear I’m feeling right now leave me on shaky ground. Matteo holds his arm out as if there is a world where I would actually take it.
I glare at him, and he shakes his head. “Suit yourself. I hope you trip and fall on your face.”
“I hope you trip and fall onto a sharp knife.”
“Oh, that mouth of yours, it’s just begging to be stuffed with my cock.”
I walk away from him, hoping that he’s not going to follow closely, but of course, that would be too much to ask. He catches up to me with ease, walking beside me the entire way to the ballroom of the castle.
A tiny part of me had hoped that I could somehow blend in tonight and not be the center of attention. When we enter the lavishly decorated ballroom, I know right away that blending in won’t be possible.
“I guess no one told you that this was a black and white ball.” Matteo chuckles, amused with himself.
“I like being different,” I lie, trying to play off my ever-growing distress.
Every pair of eyes is on me as we enter the large space. All the men wear black tuxedos while most of the women wear white dresses. You would think I would be used to the sneers and glares by now. But the truth is, I’m more uncomfortable now than I have ever been.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Matteo grabs me by the hand and leads us to a table. It’s one of the larger tables that seats about fifteen people. At the very head of the table sits Xander, his wife, Ella, next to him, and Quinton on the other side. I glance at the blond girl sitting beside Quinton, expecting Adela or Scarlet to have that spot, but instead, I find Anja from PE class smiling back at me like she just won the lottery. Another man sits beside Anja, and I consider the fact he might be her father, but then Matteo speaks beside me.
“Hello, Father,” he greets. The man looks up from his phone, and the first thing I notice about him is his pointed nose and the gleam of hate in his eyes.