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19
Braxton leads me out of the courtyard and into a spacious entry with a plush velvet chaise that hangs from the ceiling and a crystal chandelier resting in the center of the white marble floor.
“An upside-down room?” I say, intrigued by the concept, but Braxton just shrugs and waves me down a long wood-planked hallway that reminds me of a lane at a posh bowling alley.
A chorus of voices drifts toward us. The closer we get, the louder they become. Growing in intensity, the shouts resonate, and though I can’t quite make out the words, clearly someone is having a serious argument.
The instant Braxton strides through the doorway, the room falls silent. I stand awkwardly beside him, feeling totally out of my league. So far, Braxton was right—this place is nothing at all like I thought it would be.
I take in the odd assortment of wingback chairs swinging from thick silver chains and the strangers who occupy them. As I run my gaze over the collection of faces, they use the moment to scrutinize me as Braxton starts making introductions.
Oliver, Song, Jago, Finn—I try my best to keep them all straight.
Oliver is brown eyed with white skin and a quick, sure smile that instantly masks a residue of anger.
Song has lovely dark brown eyes and long black hair that drapes around her shoulders like a shawl.
Jago is tall and lean, with warm brown skin and a deep topaz gaze. He greets me with a brisk nod as he swings back and forth in his purple velvet throne, watching me warily.
Finn is slim with a shock of straw-colored hair, a smattering of freckles sprawling over his nose, and a gleam in his sleepy green eyes that makes for a roguish elfin effect.
And as I stand here before them with Braxton’s knit hat yanked past my ears, and the hem of my little black dress bunched around the sagging waist of his sweatpants, it’s obvious there’s been a mistake. Everything about this place is so beautiful, so curated, including the people—surely I’m not the only one who can see I don’t fit.
I need to find a way out.
I don’t care if my mom traded me in for a new SUV; there must be some kind of loophole—or even a way to escape—
Next thing I know, Braxton is nudging my shoulder, shaking me away from my thoughts, as he says, “And of course, you know Elodie.”
