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Turning, I give her my back, and she zips up my dress, then I zip hers. While moving in sync, we step into our black, red bottom heels, then stand side by side in front of the floor-length mirror to pose for pictures. Spencer loves a good selfie. Unlike me, she’s crazy for social media.
My dress is a floor-length red satin off-the-shoulder gown with a slit up the left side. The color is impeccable against my flawless, smooth olive skin. It’s perfect for tonight and gives me the bit of confidence that I need to be able to face the vultures known as Seattle’s finest socialites.
“Holy fuck. You look like a million bucks.” Spencer snaps a few more photos and sends them to our mom, proving we’re ready and will be meeting her and Dad.
Frozen in place, I stare at our reflections in the mirror. A smile tugs at the corners of my red-painted lips. I’m not conceited by any means, but I know I’m a looker. Spencer and I have our mother's looks. We have the same heart-shaped face, long, thick luscious hair, and sharp features that have caused to turn a few heads once or twice toward us.
Spencer is taller with a slimmer figure, while I’m a few inches shorter with an hourglass figure and a peachy ass. I’m surely not missing any meals or turning down dessert. Her stomach is tight and fit, and her thighs have a gap, while my stomach is soft and squishy, and my thighs touch. From all the times I’ve seen her in a bikini, I know she doesn’t have a single flaw to her skin, while I have cellulite and stretch marks.
Not that I’m complaining, because soft or not, I love my body.
“All right, let’s go so we can get this over with,” I say, giving myself a final once-over.
Arm in arm, we exit my building and climb inside the black SUV waiting for us outside. Mom always insists we use our family driver, Stefan, whenever we attend events.
With my stomach in knots, I take slow breaths, dreading the night that is to come.
Exactly as I expected,Spencer left me the moment we stepped inside the over-the-top building that’s hosting Seattle’s most elite residents. Mom and Dad are busy mingling with their friends and a few of Dad’s colleagues from the hospital, and I’m a standing duck that’s entirely out of my comfort zone.
This is the time to mingle, but there’s not one single person in this room I want to associate with. I’m alone and already thinking of ways to escape without Mom noticing, although I know there's no chance. Even though she's across the room, busy in conversation, Melanie Lambert doesn't miss a single thing. I'm positive she'd know the second I fled.
To help calm my nerves, I take a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, swallowing half of the contents in one gulp. The cold bubbly drink does nothing to settle my nerves. I’m as on edge as I’ve ever been.
My palms are sweaty; I’m breathing through my mouth; my skin is covered in goosebumps; and the hair on my arms is standing straight. The feeling of unease is setting in, but I can’t quite tell why I’m feeling so on edge.
I’m anxious as fuck.
“Camille?” A familiar accented voice catches me off guard, causing me to put aside my escape plans. Turning toward the voice, my eyebrows hit my hairline in surprise.
What the fuck is she doing here?
“Karina? Hi, what are you doing here?”Is she stalking me?I wouldn’t put it past her, and I’m not ruling that out yet.
She laughs her throaty laugh, pulling me in for a hug. I’m willing to bet that physical touch is her love language. “I told you I had an event to attend with my husband. This is the event.” She waves her hand around with a wide smile.
“Wow, I didn’t realize. So, your husband is here?”
“He is! He just got back into town this afternoon. You must meet him. I told him I’ve made a new friend, and he will not believe me unless you meet him.” She laughs, looping her arm in mine. “Are you here with your husband as well? I’d love to meet him.”Ugh. Please, for the love of God, don’t bring up my husband again.Next time she brings him up, I might throat-punch her.
“No, actually, I’m here with my family. My parents always attend these events, and I tag along.”
Karina nods. “This is my first time attending. I’m so glad I found you here. I had no idea what to do. Oh, there he is! Come, you must meet my dreamy husband.” She practically drags me alongside her, leading me over to a man standing with his back toward us, speaking with two other men. “Honey.” She taps the man’s shoulder to gain his attention.
The moment the man turns around, my heart drops into my stomach, and the color drains from my face.
No, no, no.
Time stops, and I become frozen in place. Everything and everyone else fades into the background and becomes nonexistent.
My jaw drops right along with my heart, and my wide eyes connect with hazel eyes that I’ve spent countless hours staring into, countless hours remembering.
“Dean?” I audibly gulp, my voice becoming shaky and my throat as dry as the desert.
“You two know each other?” Karina asks, but I pay her no attention. My attention is solely on the tan-skinned man standing before me.
Dean stands tall, his shoulders broad, his black suit perfectly tailored to fit his muscular body. Eleven years later and he still takes my breath away.
His jaw clenches as if he’s grinding his teeth together, and for a moment, I’m unsure if he remembers me or not.
