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Now that the idea had taken root, she didn’t know how to dig it out. It hadn’t been easy to turn down his date requests here in her normal sphere, but she’d been able to stay grounded in reality and keep saying no.
Pretending to be something she wasn’t and live like a princess for a weekend—more importantly, pretending to be Derek’s girlfriend for any amount of time, even an hour—sounded like a fairytale she’d never let herself even dream about. If she had such a dream during sleep, she’d wake herself up, pray hard for deliverance, and put the temptation in a box where it should never leave.
Ellery was approaching the apartment complex before she even realized it. Despite all her stern talking to herself, she’d let herself indulge in the daydream of Prince Derek August for the past forty minutes. Five miles had never flown by so quickly, despite her elevated heart rate from simply thinking about her dream prince.
Parked in front of her reddish-brown, five-story apartment building was a white stretch limousine, and nobody was even bothering it.
Ellery slowed to a walk, drawing in great gulps of oxygen and staring at the extravagant vehicle. It was completely out of place against the pitted cement, graffiti, and garbage lying about.
Isn’t that how she’d look on Derek’s arm at a royal wedding, but reversed? A shabby girl amongst perfect and wealthy people? Even if she somehow got her hands on the right dress and shoes, it would ooze from her that she didn’t know how to stand, how to walk, how to tilt her head regally.
Could she watch YouTube videos and learn? Not quick enough to be convincing. It had to be instinctive.
The back door popped opened, and a woman climbed out, grumbling, “Calm down, darling. I can get my own door on occasion.”
The woman wore a white silk pantsuit. She was thin, average height, maybe in her sixties, but she’d had a lot of plastic surgery done, so it was hard to tell her age. Her face was to the point it almost looked rigid and inhuman, but still breathtakingly beautiful, like a caricature or a Barbie doll.
She smiled at Ellery, or at least her lips moved up a centimeter. “A little tip, beautiful girl—don’t refuse the chauffer opening your door. It upsets them. I’ll give him a handful of extra euros when we’re finished to smooth it over.”
Ellery arched her eyebrows. What alternate universe had she dropped into? A charming and handsome prince had asked her to fly home to his brother’s wedding less than an hour ago, and now this fake woman was climbing out of a limo and giving her tips on how to treat a chauffeur. Was this woman her fairy angel? Would she give Ellery a beautiful dress and shoes and tell her the limo would turn to a pumpkin when she flew back from Augustine?
It was getting very weird in her mind.
“You are Ellery Monson, the Adorkable Boston Beauty, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I think your title is only partially correct. Even sweaty, you are very, very beautiful. The farthest thing from a ‘dork’.”
“Thank you,” Ellery managed to squeak.
“I have a proposition for you, dear. Climb into the car with me, we’ll discuss what I need, and then you can rush inside, shower, and eat your too-healthy dinner.” That attempt at a smile again. It seemed sincere and hard to accomplish. “I am certain you’re starved after all that physical exercise you do, and I know you long to take care of your mother. Such a sweetheart of a daughter. I am terribly sorry to hear of her illness.”
Ellery didn’t move. She kept on staring, blinking quickly, but the picture didn’t change. The white-silked beautiful lady next to the limo next to her low-income home.
What was it with her accent? So familiar.
The lady gestured toward the car. “Come, come, dear. I’ve got places to be, and I know you do as well.”
She sounded like a fairy, but she also sounded like … Derek.
“You’re from Augustine,” she burst out. Finally, a grasp of why the accent intrigued her so much.
“Of course I am.” Again that smile that the rest of her face resisted.
“Interesting.”
White silk lady was from Augustine. That shot out the theory of her being a fairy or a misguided advertiser who thought she could use Ellery’s semi-fame with Ninja Warrior to her advantage. Until she realized that she’d wasted their marketing money because Ellery was pathetic at even still-shot pictures. She’d never learned how to smile naturally on command.
“Can you climb into the car, please?”
“Um, ma’am? I don’t know how things work in Augustine, but in Boston, Massachusetts in 2023, especially in neighborhoods like mine, young ladies who do not want to get trafficked do not climb into the back of a limo with some wealthy lady they don’t know.”
The woman laughed at that. It was a pretty laugh. It was sad that her face couldn’t cooperate. “Hmm. I see your dilemma, dear. But we do need privacy, and I am not sure it’s advisable for me to walk in there.” She pointed at the rundown brownstone with more money in the jewelry on her fingers than the entire building was worth.
Ouch.
Ellery didn’t blame her. Her apartment complex was far sketchier than climbing into a limo with someone you didn’t know.
