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“Thank you,” I mouth, relief washing over me as my best friend leads my mom out of the fitting room.
The girl staring back at me no longer looks like me. She’s hardened. Older. Wiser. The naïve sparkle in her eyes has been dimmed by the dark world she now inhabits. But she’s also stronger. She won’t go down without a fight. But time is running out, and I’m still no closer to coming up with a plan to stop the Coglio.
Cade and the Electi celebrated last night. Some kind of debauched bachelor party, I imagine. Bexley texted me this morning to reassure me that a) he was okay and b) he hadn’t done anything bad. I can’t deny that I wonder if he’s lying. I know the kind of parties Cade throws. What he demands of his friends. We are but pawns in his game, and as I’m learning, the price of dissension is sometimes far greater than the price of submission.
I love Bexley and he loves me, though.
It has to be enough.
My breath catches. I want to believe it’s enough, that we’ll find a way through this. But once Cade makes me his… what if Bexley doesn’t want me?
I wouldn’t blame him.
It killed me seeing him with Brook, and that was only once.
Tears prick my eyes, but I force them down. If I’m going to survive the Coglio, then I have to turn my weakness into strength, my tears into weapons. Cade might hold all the power, but even the greatest kings fall.
And if Quinctus killed Gregory Kingsley, I have to hope they have a plan for Cade.
“Mia, sweetheart, can we come back in?” Mom’s voice startles me.
“Sure, Mom.”
They come back into the room and help me out of the dress. “We’re meeting Sasha and Brook at the country club in thirty—”
“Sasha and Brook?” I balk.
“Well,
yes.” Mom stumbles over the words. “I asked Annabel who your friends from college were and she said Sasha, and I know she and Brook are stepsisters, so I thought… oh gosh, sweetheart. Did I mess up?”
“No, Mom, it’s fine,” I concede, because although part of me wants to refuse, she’s still my mom and I’m still her daughter, and the need to give her this sits heavy in my stomach.
“I didn’t know,” Annabel whispers to me, and I shake my head.
“It’s fine. It’s just one lunch.” Brook is in my life whether I like it or not. Perhaps it will do her good to be reminded that I’m not going anywhere.
“Oh good.” Mom beams. “I’ve been so excited for today. I miss you, sweetheart. The house just isn’t the same without you.”
I wonder how she can be so clueless. How she can’t see the pain behind my eyes. But that’s Gravestone for you, and like every other verus woman, my mother is entrenched in its ways.
“I’m sure it’ll be great, Mom.” I grimace, pulling on my jacket.
It’s not like it can get much worse.
Gravestone Country Club is the pinnacle of the town’s wealth. Maseratis, Bugattis, and Aston Martins litter the parking lot like sparkling gemstones nestled in a luscious green sea.
“Ah, Javier,” Mom greets the bellhop. “So lovely to see you.”
“Mrs. Thompson. Your guests are already inside.”
“Thank you.”
We follow Mom into the lavish reception room. Everything is coated in gold, from the door handles to the chandeliers, the vases, and even the bell on the check-in desk.
It’s a rich man’s paradise, and despite not possessing even a fraction of the money some of the people here do, my mom feels completely at home.
But that’s Temperance Thompson. She’s always enjoyed the finer things in life, seduced by the glitz and glamor of Gravestone.
