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Today was a mess of people running around and I was annoyed to find that mom had given up the pool house for extra party storage. People were in and out all day long, making today perfect for exploring. With Colton out for the day and everyone else busy setting up for the party, I was free to search for every hidden bar and treasure in the main house.
It’s no secret that I’m starting to make a reputation for myself in Bellevue Springs, some of it good, some of it so bad that I’m surprised people aren’t coming after me with pitchforks and fires. Though, if anyone is lighting fires around here, it’ll be me.
My fingers run back through my thick hair as my eyes sparkle. I feel as though I’m living a real modern-day Cinderella story, only the prince in this story is nothing but an entitled, rich turd.
My gaze sweeps down over the black dress which I borrowed from Cora. It’s absolutely stunning with a straight neckline that flows up to the thin straps which sit just off my shoulders. The fabric melts down my body, hugging my curves and making me feel incredible.
My thigh pokes out through the high slit in the floor-length gown, showing off my nude pumps which make me appear a million feet tall. I feel incredible which only serves as a reminder for how much I don’t belong here.
Glancing up at the clock, I decide it’s time to get a move on. I’m all for being fashionably late but there’s a fine line between that, and being a rude dick.
I throw my phone down on my bed, touch up my maroon lips, and walk out the door like I’m on a catwalk.
This is going to be one of the best nights of my life. I can feel it in my bones. There’s going to be all sorts of people here, celebrities, socialites, and the rich and famous. The best of the best will be here and somehow, that includes me tonight.
I walk out across the property and find people lingering around in fancy gowns, all of them laughing and having an incredible time sipping on their expensive champagne. My mood instantly begins to plummet. None of these women are wearing black gowns. All of them are dressed in white and look amazing.
I take a shaky breath, unsure of why I feel so damn nervous.
I walk through the crowds, feeling as though I have every eye on my back. They’re probably wondering who I am, and the ones who already know are most likely scowling or gossiping about my misfortunes.
I try to put it to the back of my mind. I can’t get inside my head like that or I’m going to ruin it for myself. If anything, these people have no clue who I am, and because my face isn’t splashed over the front of some ridiculous magazine, they wouldn’t give two shits about me.
I walk in through the back door and cut through the staff quarters. I get grins and adoring looks from the few members of the staff who I’ve come to know over the past week and naturally, there’s a scowl from Harrison. He would have preferred that I stayed locked up in the pool house for the night, like Rapunzel up in her tower.
I cut through the massive kitchen and try not to get in anyone’s way. There are at least ten chefs madly working at the hot stoves. Waitresses are busily filling glasses of champagne while waiters run in and out with trays of food.
I duck and dodge through them while scanning for mom. I haven’t seen her since dinner last night so she still has no idea that I’ve been invited. I would have loved to show her my borrowed dress. She would have loved seeing me all dressed up like this, but I’m sure I’ll see her at some point during the night.
I reach the back entrance to the ballroom and let out another shaky breath. Here goes nothing; my first elite party, and hopefully not my last.
The door swings wide and I step through.
It’s like I’m transported into a different world, a freaking fairytale kind of world. It’s enchanting.
The lights are dimmed while soft music fills the room with joy. People fill every corner while more pour through the main entrance. Massive diamond chandeliers hang from the ceiling while the huge floor to ceiling glass doors have been opened wide to showcase the beautiful gardens.
There’s a huge dance floor that’s filled with loved-up couples in the most amazing outfits. Gowns don every woman, making them seem as though they’ve just made a stop here on their way to the Met Gala. The suits though … I’ve never really understood men and their suits until now. The men have brought their A-game tonight and for the first time in my life, I’m drooling over fifty-year-old men who look like they’d be fucking bosses in the boardroom and the bedroom.
