“Was that what Max and I had?” I mused. “And what would you call whatyouand I had?” I dropped my voice so we couldn’t be heard. “A gap of judgment wide enough to drive a tanker through?”
“A mistake.”
“If there’s one mistake here, it’s you.”
“No doubts there. We all know the story of my origins.”
“Listen here, you ass—”
He reached over, pressing his forefinger to my mouth with a dry chuckle. “What I am is irrelevant. Whatyou areis what’s important. And you’re a client. So let’s pretend that night never happened and move on. Believe it or not, I’m here to help you. Especially as it seems you lack the motivation and resources to help yourself.”
I was about to bite off his finger when the Escalade pulled to a stop in front of the wrought-iron gates.
He unbuckled, sliding out of the car.
“It’s showtime, Princess.”
A dime was not spared on the rehearsal dinner, which consisted of the two lovebirds’ families and close friends. Two hundred people in total.
Security was through the roof. Dozens of black-suited men patrolled the grounds of the mansion, with helicopters swirling low above the rooftop. Pink peonies and white roses poured out of tall antique porcelain vases, bracketing the pathway to the entrance. A wedge of golden light shining down from professional projectors made the open double doors shimmer. Ransom and I walked in to find the open-plan foyer teeming with people in suits and gowns, clutching flutes of champagne, babbling about the upcoming event.
“…heard they’re going to spend 20k on fireworks alone…”
“…the invitations are apparently decked out with invisible ink and holograms to avoid wedding crashers…”
“…gown should be fantastic. The tiara is said to be on loan from the Queen of England herself. Apparently, she is an avid Julianne Thorne fan. Can you believe it?”
Plucking a glass of champagne from a wandering tray, I glided toward the inner rooms, Ransom at my heel. I brought the drink to my lips, only to have Ransom snatch it from between my fingers.
“No alcohol for you tonight.”
“Tell me you’re a petty baby without telling me you’re a petty baby,” I purred, trying not to show him how frustrated I was. I wasn’t expecting a tearful reunion, but why was he so awful to me?
“Bad things happen when you drink,” he reminded me.
“The worst thing that recently happened to me occurred when I was stone-cold sober.”
He didn’t respond. Good. I had bigger fish to fry. One of them stood at the end of the hallway, haloed by a flock of women in evening gowns.
Hera.
She looked tragically stunning. A modern-day Audrey Hepburn in a lime dress, with a boat neckline and a hem that wasjustlong enough to announce she was the star of the event. Her dark hair was pinned up, her side bangs swiped to one side neatly. She wore minimal makeup.
“Oh, yes. It’s been so horrible to lose him.” Hera touched a gloved hand to her chest, presumably talking about Craig’s grandfather. “I kept asking—why me? Why us? It was such a difficult time for me. Still is.”
Me, me, me.
Was that how I sounded? No wonder the tabloids loathed me.
Without realizing, I gravitated toward the circle of women. I felt safe, cloaked in the invisible cape of my failure to become a successful Thorne daughter. So much so, that I was genuinely surprised when my sister’s eyes zeroed in on me. First, with open contempt.How could I wear something so gauche to her rehearsal dinner?Right before she plastered a delighted smile on her face.
“Hallie! My gosh, finally! I’ve missed you so.” She stepped between two middle-aged ladies with too much makeup and clasped me into a special Thorne hug, where arms were involved even though bodies did not touch. I felt instantly cold. Her mouth found my ear. “Don’t fuck it up for me, little sis. Please. I really want to just survive tonight. I’m exhausted.”
Hera rarely showed signs of weakness, so I was actually pretty touched.
Disconnecting from me, she fluttered a hand over my arm. “Look at you! I cannot believe it’s been so long.”
“I can,” a voice behind me said dryly. Ransom. Hera frowned at him.