I cringe inwardly. It should have been Pavel sending me a sexy costume tonight, but I know he’s not responsible for this. Instead of answering her, I ask, “Which one should I wear? My stepmother is going to have my head if I don’t wear what she sent.”
Darby rolls her eyes at me. “Who cares? Maybe you’ll give her the stroke we’ve all been wanting her to have for the past several years.”
“Darby!” I cry out while trying not to laugh and failing miserably.
“I’m just saying…wear what will makeyoufeel good tonight. Fuck her opinion.”
My heart speeds up when I think about Dimitri’s reaction to seeing me wearing something he specifically picked out for me, and then I know my decision has been made. “Okay. Thanks, Darby.”
“You’re welcome. And if you need me to help you with that corset, let me know. I know just how to tie you up to make your boobs look spectacular,” she offers with a wink.
“Wait. How did you know I would pick that one?” I question her with a narrowed gaze.
“Oh, girl, because I would’ve picked that one too. And we both know no guy is getting hard over a long, boring Victorian gown. Just make sure you flaunt your sexy, little ass in front of Pavel tonight. Give that man something to think about before the wedding,” she says with a cackle before leaving the room.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice trailing off. But it isn’t Pavel that I want to show off to tonight. It’s his brother, the man I was once promised to but now am sadly not. And I don’t know when I started to think of that in the negative sense, but it feels more and more like I wish the original contract was still in play. I always thought marrying Dimitri would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But lately, with the way he’s been acting towards me, it’s turning out like that’s the farthest from the truth.
Brushing that idea off and having made a choice on my costume, I do my makeup accordingly. I go with a glittery, smoky eye with winged liner and lots of mascara. The mask that came with the costume is red and bejeweled and only covers the top half of my face, leaving me with the option for the perfect red, glossy lip. I complete the look by doing a fancy braid in my hair, letting it hang down my back and tying it at the end with a red bow that I managed to find crammed in the back of the drawer where I keep my scrunchies and clips.
Darby helps me with the corset, like she promised, and I’m ready just in time when the car my stepmother sent pulls up to the curb outside. I cautiously go downstairs and climb inside the awaiting vehicle, making sure my long cape doesn’t get stuck in the door before the driver shuts me inside; and then we’re zooming down the city streets to the party in New Jersey.
It takes a while to get there, and I find myself texting Dimitri. Maybe a small part of me is worried that he didn’t actually send the costume. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. But my texts go unanswered, and that makes me even more anxious. I’m a ball of nerves by the time we arrive at the party.
The driver parks in the circular driveway before getting out to open the door for me once again. I step out, gathering my costume and making sure I look put together before walking up the paved sidewalk to the enormous, sprawled out mansion situated on what has to be at least twenty acres of ground.
I enter through the massive front door and straight intoa grand two-story entry hall with a sweeping limestone staircase on the right. “Wow,” I mutter as I stare around at the architectural details and elegant décor. I knew my stepmother rubbed elbows with some of New York City’s elite, but this man is on a whole other level. This mansion is above and beyond any level I’ve seen her hobnobbing with before, and I can’t help but wonder what sort of favors she did to make sure her party got hosted here.
“Savina!” My stepmother’s screech comes from across the room, like nails on a chalkboard.
Speak of the devil…
Her high heels click furiously across the tiled floor as she carries the long train of her Victorian gown in her balled-up fists so that she doesn’t step on it. I guess she wanted us to match tonight.Aww, how sweet.But before I can gag on the idea, she pulls me to the side, her long manicured nails digging into my skin. “What happened to the dress I sent over to your apartment?” she hisses.
“It…it didn’t fit,” I tell her. It’s not a total lie; because, truth be told, the dress she wanted me to wear wasn’t in my actual size, so it most likely wouldn’t have fit anyway. If anything, I would have been miserable all night in a dress that was too tight and uncomfortable.
She huffs as her eyes narrow on me, looking me up and down with disgust written all over her face. “It was probably all those wedding cake samples I told you not to eat,” Cosette says snidely. “Maybe you need to go back on that vegetarian diet I had you on when you were gaining too much weight,” she offers.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes right now. “I was eight,” I clarify through clenched teeth. I was the only girl in elementary school who could eat only raw vegetables at lunch. My stepmother lied to the school and told them I had some bizarre allergies to almost everything. I was instantly labeled “the weird kid”; the kid you didn’t want to be around for fear of triggering some kind of airborne allergy. And for a long time after that, Cosette made me have weekly weigh-ins and monthly doctor appointments to make sure I wasn’t “putting on any extra pounds.” I had to sit out of everybirthday celebration, every pizza party, for years. No wonder I was bullied so much. Not only did I have a debilitating stutter, but I was also a social pariah, rejected early on by all of my peers.
“Well, it’s too late to change now. I guess what you’re wearing is…fine,” Cosette remarks with clear disdain. “Just don’t let your father see you. He’ll throw a fit.”
Someone calls my stepmother’s name, and I’m thankful for the distraction. I watch as she turns towards the voice, and then I hightail it out of the entryway and into the next room of the house. I discover a fancy sitting room complete with two Victorian chaise lounges and other antique furniture. Wanting to find the main party room, I continue walking. The sound of music and jovial voices guides me through the mansion until I finally come to the main ballroom.
Tall, arched windows frame the starry night outside, their glass panes shimmering with reflections of the sculptural chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. Fragments of crystal light drip onto the marble floor below in soft, prismatic shards as I walk. Everywhere I look, guests glide past in elaborate costumes and masks, curated with almost absurd care. The smell of expensive perfume, champagne and cologne fills my lungs as I continue to the bar nestled in the corner of the room.
Soft music from a hidden quartet swells and dissipates through the air. Violins and low, velvety cello notes fill my ears as I take a seat on one of the padded stools. The young bartender is quick to take my order, and I tell him, “Rum and coke.” I’m sure it will be the most expensive rum money can buy and maybe even some kind of fancy soda that doesn’t come from a can, but I could care less. I just need the liquid courage to get me through this night.
Needing an excuse to busy my hands while I wait for my drink, I pull my cell phone from my small clutch and check my notifications. Nothing from Dimitri.Why is he not answering me?I wonder. But then Darby’s words from earlier come back to haunt me. What if he’s not answering because the costume really was from Pavel? What if he sent it instead of Dimitri? I sit there and think aboutwhat that could mean. Is Pavel actually willing to try? Is he trying to change? But the question in the back of my mind that sticks out the most is do I even want him to?
The bartender sets my rum and coke down in front of me just then, pulling me from my inner turmoil. I take a long swig of my drink, loving the burning feeling going down my throat to my stomach. And then I put my phone away, shaking my head. I intend to find out the true sender behind this costume tonight even if it kills me. And if it actually was Pavel, well, then that might change everything.
Glancing up, I catch my reflection in the long, gilded mirror behind the bar. I pause for a beat, staring. I look so much unlike myself that it’s almost eerie. I never wear my hair back in a braid, and I never wear this much makeup or this shade of lipstick. It almost feels like an out-of-body experience, like I’m a completely different person. Smiling, I allow myself to fully slip into character, and I’m filled with a confidence I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.
But then I catch a glimpse of something behind me that has my heart stuttering inside of my chest. Several feet away and coming straight towards me is a very tall man dressed just like a wolf. Thick, dark fur is draped over his broad shoulders, and he’s wearing a sculpted mask with sharp teeth and exaggerated features. The mask hides his face with shadows, and all I can do is stare at him as he comes closer.
The fitted, dark leather vest he’s wearing looks like it’s been distressed in places with actual claw marks. Whoever this man is, he spent a lot of money and time on this costume. It was a well thought out plan for him, and I can appreciate his attention to detail. He looks like he just stepped out of a story. My story, perhaps. Because I think I have fantasized about this exact tale no less than a hundred times over the years. All I need him to do is chase me, and my fantasy will come to fruition.
When the beast of a man sits down next to me, his scent waftsover to me, filling my lungs with a woodsy cologne, mint…and a hint of tobacco.
