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I hoped that the woman in my reflection was the kind of person Isaac’s parents would want to meet. We didn’t speak of love, or even marriage, yet. But he kissed me again and again. He followed me into private corners, had given me a gift, and littered our days with small phrases about savoring our time together.
Surely that must count for something in this world? If I did well in the tournament, then maybe the Marriage Council would give me more leeway in my choice. Isaac was definitely going to do well. He had one of the best mentors.
A mixture of hope and nerves settled in the foundations of my soul.
I reached up, touching my skin gently. Lashes which had always been black were now longer and thicker. My naturally pinkish lips were bright red, and gold powder adorned my eyelids, nose and cheeks. An expensive floral-scented perfume had aromatized the entire space. Though it smelled nice, it coated the air with a disgusting aftertaste.
“Is this… real gold powder?” I asked. Fixation on the glinting particles took place over the inspection of my hair.
Isolda gave me a strange look. “Claro, señorita.” She spoke as if there was any other option for someone like me.
My cheeks heated again, thinking about how expensive something like this would be—how many mouths it could feed and house-rents it could pay. But being an Élite was about living a wasteful life—that’s why it was brushed across my cheeks for a singular use that would be washed away at the end of the night.
When I looked at myself this time, I was caught in between vanity and decency. I hadn’t marked the exact moment that I’d shifted from just thinking about my future to the rest of Arrebol, but the thoughts had inevitably planted themselves in my morals. I was seeing the world with a wider lens.
Somehow, with the use of a contraption that was both shiny and hot, Isolda had pressed my curls and turned my hair into shiny silk tresses before swirling them up into a dramatic up-do. Gold leaves and crystals had been woven artistically through the now-glittery locks.
Was I beautiful? Yes. Sort of.
But beauty wasn’t the most important thing. Beauty was selfish, external, shallow. Actions, thoughts, even words, were infinitely more important. How could I be this kind of woman, reduced to wearing a stunning dress to a luxurious party, when I understood the nuances of modern living? Everything came at a cost.
“Hoy usted va a ser la Chica Dorada,” Isolda said.
And… that was how I could play this game. Because I needed to survive if I was going to make a change. I half-smiled at Isolda’s halfway compliment. I was always the golden girl. Tonight it would be true in an artificial sense.
I took a deep fortifying breath, stacking my spine up to a ramrod straight position. “I’m ready to put on my dress, Isolda.”
Chapter36
Meeting The Parents
The Flores Jimenez estate was only slightly less elaborate than Antonio’s. To be clear, the manor itself was three easily visible stories tall, but the major difference came from their land. Whereas Antonio had acres upon acres of fertile land for his orange grove—plus the other land which made up his driveway, and patio—the space around this hacienda was much more conservative. Merely a small garden and driveway.
Apparently, they had qualified to audition on the Quinta Isla because his mother, Señora Jimenez, owned a small town house there.
Semantics.
These people belonged to the main island as much as the Canciller did.
As the car pulled up close, I was dazzled by twinkling lights. They glittered and flickered all across the estate, and the majority of it was concentrated in the space right in front of the house.
I realized it wasn’t static lighting, but camera flashes. My stomach twisted.
Antonio’s estate was a mix of gold-orange—something that had admittedly grown on me, even though it was nauseatingly big—this house was painted with creamy white and trimmed in reddish brown.
It had something in common with the Hacienda Rosa de Oro, though. There was no rational reason that so much land should be dedicated to such a small group of people.
All the lessons I’d had to prepare for this evening with Ana were dancing through my mind. I saw different silverware, along with rules and codes of conduct. How to call people, how to say hello.
It all was there, passing as quickly as the landscape outside my window.
I let out a long breath and glanced at the mysterious man revered by so many sitting on the seat opposite mine, arm resting on the window while he stared outside.
Cameras flashed ahead of us, but the tint on the windows was dark enough that they felt more like flickering candles than blinding lightning.
My regular body guards, Javier and Manuel, drove in the car behind us, but Antonio had been quiet, resigned to stare out the window while we raced down the road.
When we’d met in the garage, he’d taken one look at me before his face turned back into solid ice.
