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CHAPTER1
SCARLETT
I enter the elevator carefully, my dress nearly taking up the entire space.
“And where am I supposed to stand?” My mother sounds amused as she studies me.
Offering her a nervous smile, I grab at my wide, layered pale-pink tulle skirts and try to pull them in closer to me. That only gives up a few inches of space, max, but it’s better than nothing. “You can stand next to me.”
Mom glides into the elevator, careful not to step on the tulle. She’s wearing impossibly high Louboutin stilettos, and she could tear the skirt with ease. Those shoes are like weapons.
But my mother is very careful and would never do that. This is my night, and she wants me to shine. This event is being thrown for me, and it is huge. Outrageous.
Maybe even borderline completely over the top.
Okay, there’s nothing borderline about it. The party is definitely going to be completely over the top, thanks to my father. He never does anything halfway. It helps to have money like our family does. When multigenerational wealth is managed correctly, like it’s been for the Lancasters all these years, it’s guaranteed to take care of the family forever.
As long as no one comes along and spends it all. My father comes close with his lavish ways. As the youngest of the Lancaster brothers, he’s considered the black sheep of the family. The rebel. The outlier.
Sometimes, as his oldest child and only daughter, I find his reputation hard to live up to.
The moment the mirrored elevator doors slide shut, I stare at my reflection, drinking in the extravagant dress I’m wearing to my eighteenth-birthday party. I’m suddenly afraid it’s far too grand, and I mentally fight the panic rising within me, desperate to remain calm despite second-guessing my choice.
“I probably look ridiculous,” I say on a sigh, wishing I could go back to my suite, where I got ready earlier, and change into something less ostentatious. Why did I think such a large dress was a good idea again? I look like a little girl desperate to play dress-up in her mom’s fancy clothes.
Which, I can’t lie, was sort of the look I was going for when I chose the dress in the first place, but...
“You’re beautiful.” Mom’s cool palm presses into my forearm, her touch gentle. Reassuring, as always. “The dress is stunning.Youare stunning. Remember how you said you wanted to make a statement when you walked into your party?” When I nod, she continues. “Trust me, darling. In that dress, you’re going to do it. No one will be able to look away from you. Not a single person, including you-know-who.”
My heart beats heavier at her not-so-subtle reference. I wring my hands together, taking a deep breath, holding it in for a beat too long before I let it out shakily. I shouldn’t be nervous. This evening promises to be fun. Magical.
Possibly even life changing.
“Have you spoken to Ian yet?” My mother’s voice is hushed, as if she doesn’t want anyone else to hear her question, which is funny considering we’re the only two people in the elevator.
“We texted earlier.” Just thinking about him sets my heart aflutter.
Ian Baldwin. My friend. One of my closest friends. He’s smart and sweet and handsome, and he always makes me smile when I first see him.
Pretty sure he doesn’t realize that I have a huge crush on him. I’ve had a crush on Ian for years, which seems like such a silly way to describe my feelings for him, considering our ages. Crushes are for middle school.
But that’s how he makes me feel when I’m near him. Like an awkward preteen who can barely speak.
Our parents have known each other for years—Ian’s father is my father’s lawyer, who he keeps on retainer. Ian is twenty and will eventually go to law school, and he has his entire life planned out. Eventually he wants to work for his father’s law firm. He wants to be married by the age of thirty and to live in a two-story house not far from his parents’ home. He also wants two children—a boy and a girl. His biggest desire is to be respected in the same legal circles his father moves in, and he wants to handle the biggest celebrity clients he can find.
“Celebrity is where success is at,” Ian told me once at a family dinner, me sitting next to him breathless and hanging on his every word. “They’re always involved in some sort of scandal and need an attorney to bail them out. It would be easy money, representing actors and musicians. Celebrities who do nothing but make videos for their so-called followers.” He rolled his eyes.
I tried to ignore the insulting tone of his voice when he said that, considering I’m trying my best to become an influencer of some sort. I have a small following. People listen to me. Somewhat. It helps that I come from one of the oldest, wealthiest families in the country and that my father was—still is—somewhat famous.
His infamy is sometimes to my detriment, but I work with his past—and even current—reputation as best as I can. Eventually I want to make a difference with my platform. I’m not out to just get free stuff.
While I’m still not sure what I want to do with my future, Ian has a plan firmly in place. And I want to be a part of that plan so badly I can practically taste it. Not that I would ever tell him, but I often imagine myself as his wife. The mother of his children—the perfect boy and girl. They would be beautiful, well mannered, and well spoken. The perfect representation of their equally perfect father.
My daydreams are filled with images of me attending social events by his side. Hosting dinner parties for our large social circle at our gorgeous two-story house with an impeccable green yard and beautiful garden that I tend to while wearing a large straw hat to protect my skin from the sun.
Does my secret dream make me sound like an old woman? I sort of don’t care. That’s what I want.
Only with Ian, though.
