Prologue: Isabella
“Tonight, I’m going to dance, get high, and fuck some good dick,” Elena manages to say while dabbing her favorite shade of red lipstick against her lips.
“As always.” My mutter is drowned out by the blaring music coming from the club. And that’s the first thing I hate about tonight. The second thing is how my ass feels one hitch away from exposure in the short gown Elena forced me to wear.
The third? My life.
But that one’s been on the list since I learned what favoritism and alienation feel like.
Spoiler alert. It feels like a bad haircut you can’t grow out of.
My twin sister makes a small sound of displeasure at her reflection in the hand mirror, smacks her lips together, then turns to me.
“Bella, you think my makeup is too light?”
I adjust the phone’s flashlight in my hands and let my eyes roam her perfectly caked face. She looks gorgeous in a way I’d never be. “No.”
She sucks her teeth and is about to say something when the lipstick slips from her grasp and skitters underneath the banister, disappearing to the floor below. I pause, waiting for the inevitable.
“Do me a favor and get that for me, please?” She pries her phone off my hands.
Of course. Elena gives the command, and I have to oblige. Story of my life.
“Okay,” I say, shooting her an empty smile that fades off once I step into the club and start making my way downstairs.
Red lights cloud my vision, and the music gets louder as I struggle to navigate through sweaty bodies gyrating as if they have no care in the world.
Maybe they don’t.
And for a split second, I dare to wonder what it’d feel like. To do things on your own terms, to have a loving family…and not be the typical, loser ginger.
One day…just one day, I want to taste what it feels like to be loved. As usual, I begin to drown in my thoughts when my head collides with a wall.
“Oof!” I grunt, and my butt hits the ground, then something cool and slippery trickles down my cleavage.What just happened?
That’s when I register a tall, broad figure hovering above me. He’s leaning over me in a way that blocks the weak strip of light from illuminating his face. My throat tightens.
Now, unlike Elena, I’m not one to ogle hot men and spread my legs for them like I’m doing community service. I’m too fucked up for that. But this…what I see is enough to seize the breath in my lungs.
He’s dressed in an expensive three-piece suit that clings to his wide shoulders and runs down his strong biceps. It’s hard to decipher the color of his suit since Elena made me ditch my glasses, but the way his skin pops beautifully under the light is enthralling.
His hair is cropped short, the dark edges sharp against his temples and drawing attention to the hard, straight line of his nose. His piercing grey eyes are unmissable as they lock onto mine—cold and predatory, sending my pulse into a frantic spike.
I quickly lower my gaze when I take in his hand that holds an empty glass. Suddenly, I’m back to my senses, and I realize the liquid trickling down the valley of my breasts is wine.
He spilled wine on my dress. Ugh.
This is usually not how it happens in the romance books I read. Guess the universe is pulling an Uno reverse on me.
The buzz in the background seems to fade as we both stare at each other. As his eyes roam my body, I feel more self-conscious, and maybe that’s why I don’t stand.
Or maybe I’m waiting for him to render an apology and offer a hand. But he does nothing. His eyes move from me to his empty cup and then back to me.
“Watch where you’re going next time.” He grits his teeth.
He did not just try to blame me after staining my dress.
My blood boils. I glare at him, but before any words leave my mouth, he sidesteps me like I’m nothing and leaves. I curl my hand into a fist, muttering curses as I pick myself up from the ground. Then I dust debris off my dress.
