AllFreeNovel
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Our luck would turn.
We’d use my fame, her quick thinking to claw our way out of poverty.
She’d no longer have to rely on her crappy jobs at the gas stations, convenience stores, or the crappy on-again off-again boyfriends that sometimes helped with the bills.
I was going to be our ticket out of the hellhole of whatever dump we lived in at the time, though they were all the same, weren’t they? Poverty tends to take the same shape no matter where you live, or what you’re trying to do with your life.
I never did win. And she never did make it out of the trailer park. But I did.
As Ava said, I worked my little ass off my last three years of Cherry Grove High School, graduating with a weighted G.P.A of 4.2. Then I applied for every scholarship my guidance counselor offered me, finally winning a merit-based scholarship for children who were the first generation in their families to apply to go to a university.
I worked hard in college, too, and majored in English. When I graduated, I beat out almost a hundred other people to get the job at CityScoop. When I asked Mike why he hired me, what he saw in me, he said, “You wanted it more. I could feel it.” Coming from a small town in Ireland with few opportunities, he said he saw something of himself in my resume.
Damian puts his hand on mine, pulling me out of Cherry Grove and back onto his private jet. “I won’t hide you away this time. I promise.”
“Good,” I say.
“The Village is different from the Parrish. There are friends of the family, fiancées, employees, behind our walls. You’ll be free to move around, to make friends. As long as you’re within our walls.” His voice tightens. “There is one thing.”
“What?” I ask.
He says, “In order for you to stay, we need to be engaged.”
“What…” I just stare at him.
He shrugs. Like it’s nothing. “It’s how it has to be.”
I’m still staring at him, waiting to hear him say that he’s joking. That he’s teasing me. Instead, he’s reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
I gawk as he pulls out a small, red leather box. My heart rate increases, sweat prickling at my brow. “What is that? What are you doing?”
“This is how it has to be,” he repeats, and this time his tone is authoritarian, with no room for argument. “There will be no discussion.”
He holds the box out to me. My mind goes blank. I’m holding my breath.
My fingers tremble as I reach out to take what looks like a small jewelry box. I hold it in my hand, staring at the gold swirling letters embossed across the top.
Bachman’s Jeweler.
I’ve seen this store. Never been inside.
I’ve walked the streets that edge the Village. The tall, beautiful brownstones that are a part of the city’s history. They have many stores. A clothing shop, a children’s boutique, a bakery, a gym, among other things.
But Bachman’s Jeweler… it’s the cream of the crop.
One of the most desirable jewelers in the world. People come from all over to shop there for their fine jewelry. They’re known for the quality of their gemstones, the unique designs of their engagement rings.
Is that what’s in this box?
An engagement ring?
Do I open it? Look inside? Of course, the girl inside me that collected bridal magazines her entire life is dying to know what’s inside this box. But practical Lindsey says, open it and it becomes real. You’ll have to accept your fate.
That you will be marrying Damian Bachman.
“Open it,” he demands.
“I—I can’t.” My hands are shaking now.
