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Rubbing my lips together, I glance up. Connor is staring at me while talking to some people.
I look away.
I can’t believe I poured bourbon on him. It was a glass I’d planned to take to our private room after a guest advised it had a crack. We hired crystal cut glasses for this event, so there was no way I was throwing it in the trash. Donna will want a refund. The cost per glass was insane.
Suddenly, I wonder if Connor has recognized me.
I don’t recall him being at any family events, where I would’ve been dressed in a designer gown, with full make-up and sparkling jewels. Quite different to how I look today. Even if he had noticed my slim figure and unusual light blue eyes, back then I would’ve been far too young for him to find beautiful.
At twenty-four, I’m a decade younger than Connor.
Plus, if he’d been caught appreciating my beauty, he’d be swimming with the fishes by now. As my family would say.
Yeah, I know. Total cliché.
It would be funny if I hadn’t grown up finding bloodstains in the backs of cars or in the basement. Or worse, witnessed men being dragged—screaming or with a bag over their heads—through the front door.
My mother used to yell at my father and tell him to keep the business out of the house. Like they were bringing home boxes of cookies or car parts.
Not murder.
It didn’t matter. My father had ignored her wishes right up to the day she died, five years ago.
Rest in peace, Mama.
Just as my mind goes to that miserable place, Sienna comes skipping over and presses her shoulders up against mine. “OMG, Mia. One of my ovaries just exploded.”
“What?” I ask, my eyes flying open.
Sienna is my best friend. I have friends from growing up and the university, but Sienna and I clicked on a whole different level. The day I started working at Bloom Events, she immediately took a dislike to me. Donna put us to work on a project together, which seemed counterintuitive, but by the end of the week, we were best friends.
Sienna said she didn’t like me because of my beautiful icy blue eyes. I was too pretty, she said, and in her experience, pretty girls were always bitches.
While not a statistical truth, I had an inkling it was because Sienna had spent her life believing she was a wallflower. After telling me how boring-looking she was—and that her parents had repeatedly told her she needed to do well at school because “ugly kids needed to work harder in life”—I was ready to send one of my father’s men over to off them.
Momentarily.
I felt very protective of Sienna.
What irked me the most was she was gorgeous.
If only she would believe it.
That’s the thing about belief patterns—you almost created them when you bought into them.
One night, soon after we’d become close, I went to Sienna’s and did her hair and makeup, taking a couple of dresses with me for her to wear.
She nearly fainted when I let her look in the mirror.
Talk about sex goddess.
But she hadn’t felt comfortable, so we had toned it down, and she still got hit on all night when we finally left the house.
Slowly over the last two years, she has grown more comfortable in her skin and started to see how unfair her parents’ comments were. I can’t judge. My family is the furthest from perfect, but I still hate what her parents did to her.
I love Sienna completely. She is the first real best friend I’ve ever had. The only thing I haven’t shared with her is my real identity.
Okay, so that is ahugething.
