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My cousin Charlotte? She married a man from another wealthy family and has become the new darling of New York high society. It’s kind of cute, how so many people want to spend even a sliver of a second with Charlotte and her husband, Perry.
Oh, and my cousin Crew, Charlotte’s little brother? He’s become the toast of Europe along with his fiancé, Wren, as they travel all over to attend various art shows and make purchases from new artists, helping elevate their careers and sales.
All of that is so incrediblyinteresting, while I’m over here living a not-very-interesting life. Stuck in the shadow of my former-playboy father and my beautiful, elegant mother. That important name that’s been well known across the country—the world—for centuries.
I know I’m only eighteen. My life is just beginning, and I haven’t done much, but I wish...
That I were somebody.
I want to stand out, stand on my own two feet. I want to make a mark on this world, and I don’t want my family name or history to burden me.
“You’re so much more than that one girl who kissed Tate Ramsey at her birthday party.” Mom settles her hand over mine, her expression and tone reassuring. When I meet her steady brown gaze that’s so much like mine, I’m immediately calmed. “Don’t worry about it, darling. This too shall pass.”
My anxiety ratchets up at my mother using clichés to try to make me feel better.
News flash—I don’t feel better. Not at all.
Dad changes the subject, talking about a couple they’re friends with who attended the party last night, and I tune him out, mulling over my situation and how I can deal with it. Is it best to ignore what happened? Pretend that kiss between Tate and me never existed? The more I post, the more buried the story will get. Eventually everyone will forget that I kissed Tate Ramsey at my party.
And that’s exactly what I want. This entire situation behind me.
Never brought up again.
CHAPTER7
TATE
I figured everyone would forget about me for sure by Monday. Some new scandal or celebrity war would come along and overshadow my performance, which, in the scheme of life, isn’t that big of a deal.
My chance at finding fame one more time shot down within twenty-four hours. Sounds about right when it comes to my luck.
But that isn’t what happens. Not even close. Monday morning rolls around, and I’m still blowing up. I have another meeting scheduled with Simon today along with someone from my old record company. The same company that fired my ass so fast my head spun.
Or maybe that was the recurring hangover I was experiencing at the time. Still not sure.
Now all the network morning shows are talking about me. Airing clips of my performance at Scarlett Lancaster’s party. They always end their segments with the kiss between Scarlett and me, asking the camera if we’re together.
It’s like they want us to be a couple, which I get. She’s gorgeous. And I can’t deny we look good together.
She’s not really my type.
I checked in on my video-sharing account, and the number of personalized-message requests is unbelievable. No way can I manage them all, so I had to write on my storefront that I’m no longer available and set the account to private. I will probably piss off a ton of people, and that’s most likely a mistake, but right now, I don’t give a damn.
I’m not about that life anymore. I’m ready to move on to something bigger.
Something better.
By the time I’m rolling into the meeting at Simon’s office, I’m a bundle of nerves, but at least I look good. Went right out and bought myself a new outfit for the occasion at Gucci. Yeah, I know Harry is the face of the company and has his own line.
If you can’t beat them, join them, am I right?
“Looking good,” Simon’s assistant tells me as she leads me to his office, her gaze appreciative. “Gucci?”
“Yeah.” I run a hand down the front of the shirt I bought off the rack. I remember back when I was in the band and they would send over clothes to us before they were in stores, allowing us to choose whatever we wanted, free of charge. They’d send over a personal tailor and everything. Times have definitely changed.
But at least I can afford the good life again.
“Don’t be nervous.” She rests her hand on the door handle of Simon’s office, glancing over her shoulder to meet my gaze. “This is all going to work out in your favor.”
