PROLOGUE - MARGOT
My cell rings. It’sAll I Want for Christmas is Youby Mariah Carey, which means it’s my best friend Serenity calling. Serenity programmed it into my phone for the holidays last year and now neither of us can work out how to switch it back. Despite her name she’s the opposite of serene, kind of a human whirlwind. But she’s also the only person who’ll understand how utterly shitty my day’s been so far.
“Are you finished? I can’t wait to hear this week’s podcast. Did you answer that email the listener sent you about the dog who started walking backwards? That little pooch was an Aries, am I right?” She laughs.
“I did. But it might be a little subdued this week.”
“How come?”
“Mr. Timson is moving to Cuba. So I have to get a new job. In a month.” I sigh, leaning back to stretch.
“No problem. You’ll get snapped up. Some CEO will spot how cute you are and have you working in his office in no time. Those billionaires need a gorgeous girl like you as their PA to make them look top tier.”
I smile. “You forgot to say I’m good at my job.”
“That too! It’ll be a cinch. Shall I come pick you up? We should celebrate you not having to work for that stinky-breathed miser any more.”
“Wait, there’s more. My landlady wants me out. So I need to find a new place.”
“Oh no. Sorry, honey. Your apartment is actually decent.”
“I know. It’s depressing. I can’t face moving,again.”
“Another reason to come out and forget about it. First shot is on me. You keep your life on such a tight leash honey. Let go a little. Seize the day. Come to the club…” Her voice takes on that wheedling tone I know so well.
“Ah, I don’t know. I might just hare, eat some ice cream and watchThe Incredible Journeyand cry.”
“Now thatdoessound depressing. Put on that red dress we got at the sale and let’s go dancing. Find a hot guy, do something sinful and fabulous with him. I don't have to do another night shift for four days. Time to party, girlfriend. Resistance is futile.”
I laugh. “I don’t know where you get your energy from. If I had to deal with sick people every day I’d probably sleep for a week afterwards.”
“Gives me a zest for life. I want to dance, drink and live in the moment. And so do you, you’re just repressing it. I’ll be over in an hour.”
I stare at my cell, not entirely sure what just happened. It beeps with a text, making me jump.
It’s Dad’s number. My long-lost Dad who reappeared in my life a couple of months ago. He said he wanted to get to know me and, stupidly, I believed him.
Dad: You can’t ignore me, Margot. You’re my daughter. I know what’s best for you.
I clutch the phone tighter. There are so many rude things I could text back to him, but I don’t. I guess I should block him, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
I throw the phone down and head into the bathroom. I’m going to miss this shower, the first one I’ve had that didn’t leak or run icy cold after a few minutes. After I’ve used my favorite body wash, blow-dried my hair, and put on some makeup, I ease into the slinky red designer dress I found at a discount store. It’s way sexier than I’d usually wear, the satin skimming my generous curves and the neckline dipping low. I spritz on some perfume as Serenity beeps her horn outside.
Three hours later, I’m feelingmuchbetter.
The club isn’t too packed out as it’s a week night. There’s a different, more sophisticated clientele to the usual weekend crew. The music pulses through my body as I take in the scene around me. The club’s dimly lit, with neon lights casting colorful shadows across the dancefloor. I sway to the beat, my hips moving in time with the bass.
Serenity found a suave stranger who bought us some delicious-looking cocktails - mine had a hibiscus flower bobbing on its surface and smelled like summer. His hand rests around her shoulders, his lips close to her ear as he whispers to her. She catches my eye and raises one mischievous eyebrow before turning back to their conversation.
A Rihanna song comes on and I get up. I don’t need alcohol to dance, I just love dancing on my own, losing myself in the rhythm. I’m getting into it when a man with a medallion peeking out of his chest hair comes over and puts his hand around my waist.
“Hey, honey…” He has sour whisky breath.
I remove his hand. “Not interested.”
He replaces his hand. “Well,Iam.”
I stop dancing, ready to go into battle. Suddenly the broad frame of an impeccably dressed man towers over me, his body between me and medallion man. His dark hair is swept back and his caramel-colored eyes pierce mine like a sword. His sharp jawline and chiseled features are so hypnotizing that I’m momentarily stunned, barely able to take a breath.
