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Elizabeth King was a stunningly beautiful woman, more along the lines of Violet and Maximus than Minerva.
They all looked a lot alike and there was no question of the fact that they were siblings, but there was something about the way her parents’ features had rearranged themselves on both Violet and Maximus to be an even more pleasing configuration. And somehow, on Minerva it had always seemed wrong.
Her nose was similar to her mother’s, but it was longer, more like her father’s.
Her mother had a full upper lip, slightly more so than her lower, which gave her the brilliant look of a rather exquisite doll.
Minerva’s was yet more imbalanced, her cheeks somehow looking round, rather than sculpted, in spite of the fact that Minerva didn’t have an ounce of extra fat on her body, nor curves to speak of.
What was commanding height on Maximus was gangly on her.
Her mother’s hair could be called a brilliant toffee, while Minerva’s was more mouse-ish.
“I’m here,” Minerva said.
“You look lovely,” her mom said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Minerva said, suddenly feeling horrendously insecure. “Don’t I look ready?”
“Of course you do,” Elizabeth responded. “That isn’t what I meant. I meant... You want this, don’t you, Minerva? Because I will tell your father to call the whole thing off if you don’t. I know that he got angry and he insisted that Dante do the right thing, but if you don’t love Dante then this isn’t the right thing.”
Bless her mother, who only wanted her happiness, but of course this wasn’t for Minerva. It wasn’t about Minerva.
It was all right, she was used to that. Nothing in her life had ever truly been about her.
Every member of her family was a brilliant gem that shone brightly in their own right. Her mother was a former model and beauty queen. Violet modeled herself, and additionally was a business tycoon. Maximus had taken his share of their father’s fortune and multiplied it exponentially. His face was famous, his business acumen renowned.
And her father...
California Kinghad been the headline of business pages for years, along with the requisite mattress jokes. But Robert King was not a joke. He was one of the most highly successful manufacturers the world over. Managing to be both savvy and profitable, while maintaining a strict standard of treatment for workers.
Only Minerva was nothing.
And she had been content to be, in many ways. Privileged to be.
Because there had been no pressure for her to go out and make something of herself in order to survive.
Her survival had always been a given. Because no King would be tossed out onto the streets if they failed to make a living for themselves.
Her survival had always been a given until Isabella. Until Carlo.
The one good thing about all of this was that at the very least she had discovered that when things were difficult she did possess the mettle to get through it.
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she said to her mom. “I know what I’m doing.”
Really, for the first time in her life she felt like she knew what she was doing. At least with a grander and broader purpose than simply trying to stay unnoticed.
And everything would be fine in the end. Because this would buy her time, it would keep her safe, and then she and Dante could be free of each other.
Her mother escorted her down the stairs, to the exquisitely decorated backyard.
Their home and the large courtyard overlooked the beach and the ocean. The family had private access, and the whole stretch of sand belonged to them.
There was a bonfire already going there, and the sun had set, casting an orange glow that faded to purple in the sky, silhouetting the palm trees that lined the shore.
So many people had come, and she didn’t know any of them.
She had friends from school, but most of them were out of the country still.
