Prologue - Verity
3 years ago
The statuesque woman sandwiched between Ronan and Conal, with flawless skin and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, could have been a supermodel. Or fitness influencer. Golden blonde hair cascaded down her back in smooth waves, brushing the gentle slope of her gym-honed ass.
An ass that was considerably smaller than mine.
I hated my ass.
Like my sister, my body reflected my Italian heritage, with curves for days. Unlike my sister, I barely scraped five-foot-nothing in my bare feet.
At well over six feet, the twins towered over me. Being near them made me feel like a midget. Among other things.
"Bitch." I tried not to stare as Conal slid his hand down the blonde's impossibly pert ass. From the way the woman giggled, she was having way more fun than me this evening.
"Catriona is the twins' flavor of the month." Saoirse laughed in my ear before handing me a fresh drink. This one came with a cute paper umbrella and a slice of orange. From the potent alcoholic aroma, she'd raided the bar without asking Declan, who almost certainly would throw another fit if he spotted us drunk.
Since the time we threw up in the pool after getting hammered on whiskey, he insisted we stuck to soft drinks at family parties. Even Aoife had to limit her intake, and she was 18.
We watched from the sidelines as Declan appeared, his arm slung over the shoulder of a slim brunette wearing a tight cream dress. I frowned, not recognizing her.
"I thought Declan had that irritating actress on speed-dial?"
Saoirse coughed out another laugh before downing her bright green drink.
"No, she flew back to the states last week. I heard them arguing about a film festival and his unwillingness to walk the red carpet."
"He's a mob boss, not a celebrity," I pointed out.
"Yeah. But she doesn't get it. She only sees the money." My best friend shrugged and plucked a pastry from a passing server. Her groan of appreciation almost made me wish I'd snagged one too. "Fuck me, that was good. You should try one."
"Hmm." Anxiety had my stomach in knots. And besides, the dress Saoirse insisted I wear was too tight to accommodate foodandalcohol. I'd done a lemon water fast for 48 hours just to avoid the dreaded bloat.
In hindsight, fasting before the party was a bad idea. Two drinks had my head spinning like a carousel. Perhaps I ought to switch to water. Then I saw Ronan and Catriona sucking eachother's faces off and instantly decided getting comatose drunk made perfect sense.
Lanterns flickered in the trees as I meandered aimlessly through the garden, bumping into tables and chairs. Someone called my name, but I ignored them.
Having a conversation would take more energy than I had available.
I just wanted to be alone.
Why couldn't I forget about my crush on the twins? It was pathetic. They barely knew I existed.
My foot snagged against a rock, and I stumbled, nearly face-planting the grass. A man laughed, probably at me. Someone else snickered as I crashed into a table, knocking a glass onto the lawn. Krug champagne spilled all over my feet in a sticky pool of regret.
No wonder the guys barely acknowledged my existence. They were right. I was just a silly girl who got drunk after two glasses of tequila.
Thea, my older sister, had asked me to move in with her when school ended in June, but I couldn't face the idea of living in her house. Seeing her all loved-up with her five guys made me cringe. Yeah, they were all great, but I struggled to maintain my mask of serenity around my older sister.
The music and laughter faded as I took the path down to the beach. Declan's estate sat high above a small cove, where sluggish waves lapped the shore. Tonight, the black ocean appeared flat, like a mirror. Deceptively calm.
Silver moonlight cast a faint glow over the shore. When I reached the beach, I kicked off my shoes and walked to thewater's edge. The gritty sensation of wet sand between my toes helped to calm my anxious thoughts.
For the last few months, I'd floated through my days in zombie-fashion, attending classes, handing in assignments, and talking to my friends. But none of it seemed real, like the strands tethering me to my life had somehow unraveled.
Sure, I laughed, gossiped, and acted like a normal teenager. But happy Verity was nothing but a caricature of the real me.
Beneath the facade, the real me existed in a gray realm where nothing mattered. An empty place, devoid of emotion.
