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With a triumphant smile, I turn Luxury around. There will be no rest for the weary. My hands stretch wide. I grab the silkiness of her legs and pull her to the edge of the bed. Lifting her legs up and against my chest, I slide straight in.
33
Luxury
Skin dewy from a lightning-fast shower, I sit at the vanity in a black panty and bra set. The lights shine down on me as I apply a bit of mascara. I catch Victor’s reflection, eyes all over me as he makes quick work of a bowtie.
“Hey, we really should’ve finished the night with what we just did.”
There’s laughter in his eyes as if he already knows, but asks, “Why is that?”
“Because I fucking can't stop smiling.” I grab the designer raspberry lipstick.
“Choice words, Little One.” His thumb lengthens a cork of my hair, letting the spiral bounce free before he exits.
The smile adorning my cheeks won’t fade. I’ll probably grin at Princess Mary all night—even if she crosses the line.
Fully satisfied with my look, I slip into the peach silk dress Victor selected. My phone’s alarm trills. With a sigh, I step toward the dresser, pick up the phone, and mash the button for the alarm to stop. I pick up my clutch, take out my pills, and pop a birth control pill from the perforated packaging.
My shoulders tense as aggressive footsteps draw near, and I drop the pill.
“Shit!” I scream when Alba’s head pops into the bathroom doorway.
“Oh, Lux, I'm sorry.” Alba gives a wry smile. “I can’t go down there alone. The door to your bedroom was open, but I should have knocked.” She continues to ramble. “I’m just not ready to meet Princess Mary.”
I should get the implant.I find the tiny pill and pick it up from the marble floor.Five second rule. I blow off the germs, then swallow it without water. “Take a deep breath. No matter what, you’ll make a better first impression than I did.”
Alba’s cheeks flame. My story was one of our icebreakers when Graham left us to finish cooking. My stupidity made us hit it off.
By the time we make it downstairs, our spirits have lifted as she tells her own graduation day horror story.
In the sitting room, Graham appears apprehensive, tugging at the silk button of his tux. Victor sits confidently in an oversized chair, paying the princess half his attention as his grandmother talks. The men rise when we enter.
Graham hurries to Alba’s side and takes her hand. “Grandmother, Mother.” He turns to the women who are so different yet resemble each other in appearance. “Meet my love,my fiancée, Alba!”
“Drinks! We must have drinks!” Lady Sarah shouts. “Where is that sexy delectable, Burt—”
“Grandmother, do not refer tomybutler with such vulgarity,” Victor cuts in.
“Rubbish! My daydreams about the chap, now those arevulgar.” The old lady blushes.
In shock, since Graham was only throwing around theL wordearlier, notfiancée, I can't help but envy Alba. No matter how friendly she is, my jealousy writes itself across my face. Luckily, all eyes are on a prissy royal.
“Fiancée? This is absurd.” The princess rises. Victor nears her, eyeing her like a hawk, prepared to swoop in and save her from falling. I cross my fingers, hoping Mary faints and hits the floor.God, that’s cruel.Technically, I just want the playing grounds to be even. She fainted because of me. Why not because of Alba, too?
“Congratulations,” I say, finding it hard to smile as I once did earlier. The motto “You can't feel happy for someone else until you're happy for yourself” is in full effect.
Graham and Alba do appear genuinely happy as they thank me in unison.
At this exact moment, I notice that Princess Mary hasn’t and won’t acknowledge me with a glance. She places a hand on her pale forehead. “Graham, you daft fool. Where are my sons? These two boys before me are feral. No affluence whatsoever. One goes gallivanting around his dukedom with . . . with . . . a,” she stops. “The Queen?” She gulps. “Graham, have you warned Her Majesty?”
“No, I have not given Grandmummy the good news. Mum, I don't have any duties. It’s of no importance.” Graham places his hands in his pockets and looks down.
While the princess argues, Sarah scoffs. “Where is the bloody champagne? There are three beautiful women in the room. And this prissy—” Sarah looks at her daughter.
“Mother!” Mary grunts.
Sarah snorts. “Might I have just a—”
