AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She snorts.
I mean it as a warning to her, but of course she takes it the wrong way. “He’s dangerous, Ana.”
“Are you jealous?” she asks, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You always were jealous.”
I open my mouth to respond but decide it’s not worth it. She’s not worth it. So I close it again.
“Who’s that family?” she asks after a minute. I follow her gaze to find the family from earlier being led to a table at the very front, to the tables that are reserved for the most generous donors. I’m grateful we’re at opposite ends of the room. Once they reach the table, the younger two of the four are seated while the older man and woman excuse themselves. The two left at the table turn their attention directly to me.
“Do you know them? They seem to know you.” Ana is still talking.
“Excuse me,” I say, standing, turning to find a bathroom to disappear into. But Val is at my side in an instant.
“Mrs. Augustine?” he asks, so respectfully. I should remind him how he handled me last night when he deposited me in my bedroom and locked the door.
“I need to use the ladies’ room,” I tell him, trying to shoulder past him. I don’t manage to, of course. But Ana stands and takes my wrist in a too tight grip.
“I’ll go with you. I know where it is,” she says, and Val follows us as she hurries toward an exit I hadn’t noticed. We reach a door marked Ladies, and she turns to Val. “Sorry, women only,” she tells him as she pushes the door open, and we slip inside.
She makes a motion like she’s wiping sweat off her forehead, her smile revealing the dimples on her cheeks. I wonder if she needed to throw me under the bus to get in with the it crowd in school. She always had the looks but lacked the confidence, always had an inferiority complex.
“He really does keep you under lock and key, doesn’t he? There’s something so sexy about such a possessive man.”
“Not really,” I start, but she shrugs.
“I need to wee,” she says, using the term we used when we were kids. She walks down the corridor toward another door. There are several. It’s not just a bathroom but a full lounge with separate rooms with sofas, private stalls, and a nursing mother’s room.
Hiding out in a toilet stall takes me back to high school prom, and I promised myself a long time ago I wasn’t doing that anymore. I walk into the next room, where there’s an empty attendant’s table with a sign on top that says she’ll return shortly. On the counter are various perfumes and other toiletries. I walk to the farthest end, setting my clutch down and taking my lipstick out just to have something to do. I wonder where Santos and Caius went, if their departure had to do with that family.
I need to talk to Santos about his plans to remove the De Léon name from the company. How is he able to do that? What does he have on my father that he has so much power?
I dab on lipstick then tuck the tube into my purse and choose one of the bottles of perfume. I spray it into the air and sniff and am about to test another when the clicking of shoes signals someone walking in behind me. I assume it’s Ana, so I don’t bother turning or even looking at the reflection in the mirror, so I’m startled a moment later when the woman steps up to the counter beside me.
“This one’s my favorite,” she says, picking up one of the bottles and holding it out to me.
I look up to find the younger woman from that family standing closer than necessary. I’m caught off guard and find myself staring for a long, awkward minute. I could see from across the room that she was beautiful, but close up, she’s stunning.
“He’ll like this one.” She smiles, although it’s not a real one. She’s studying me, taking in every detail of my face. She’s about an inch taller than me with palest blond hair pulled into a chignon at the nape of her neck. She’s so close I can see the pins that are holding it in place, and I wonder if it hurts.
I register what she just said but don’t really know how to respond. She puts the bottle down and takes a lip gloss out of her clutch. I watch her in profile as she turns her attention to her reflection to reapply. I get the feeling she’s giving me time to look at her, to see her.
Each of her features is perfect independent of each other, and it makes for an almost unreal, inhuman beauty, the kind that hurts to look at. Once she’s satisfied with the gloss, she drops the tube back into her clutch and turns her cornflower blue eyes to me. I’m still staring. Her skin is the palest, smoothest ivory. Her eyelashes are thick and dark with mascara and it makes the pale of her skin and the blue of her eyes that much more striking.
Her pink glossed lips stretch into a wide smile. She’s used to people staring. I can tell, and it somehow takes away from her power. I clear my throat as she steps slightly back to look me over fully, taking her time. I don’t know if she doesn’t realize how awkward it is or if she just doesn’t care.
“So, you’re the girl Santos married. Madelena, right?” she asks, tone soft and sweet like you’d expect someone who looks like her to sound. But I know there’s nothing soft or sweet about her. She’s dangerous.
I nod. I’m not easily flustered. I know how to deal with women who don’t like me. But this is different than that. “And you are?”
“Camilla,” she says, extending her hand toward me—not to shake it, but the way a royal might hold out her hand to be kissed. I don’t. “Camilla Avery. Maybe you’ve heard the name?”
I don’t like her. I wouldn’t trust her with a kitten. “Can’t say I have.”
“Oh, that’s surprising.” She makes a face like she truly is surprised, but I already know that everything this woman does is calculated. “Santos and I go way back. I thought for sure he’d have mentioned me.” I shake my head again. Her face falls. “Well, my father did have a greater influence in his life, of course. Commander Avery? Alistair Avery. Ring any bells in there?” I almost expect her to tap the side of my head.
“No, sorry to disappoint you,” I say, irritated and not sure what she wants with me. I just want to leave.
“Well, Santos knew him as the Commander, of course, so maybe…” she trails off, shrugging.
