Page 33 of Stolen Vows
That’s not a role I’m used to playing, though. Stella Ricci was hidden away at these kinds of events. My parents didn’t think Iwas capable of contributing, so they’d often shut me in a room until the gathering was finished.
Back then, I didn’t mind so much because it meant I wasn’t party to the expectations of abusive criminals. My parents’ shame mostly felt like a favor. Now I’m wondering if I didn’t claim some of it subconsciously, as I find inserting myself into these conversations incredibly daunting.
My mind flickers back to my roommate. Valerie Van der Vorm demands attention. She gets what she wants.
If I’m ever going to obtain that promotion and make a real example of myself, that’s who I need to emulate.
But first, I need alcohol.
I make a beeline for the bar on the opposite side of the ballroom, noting a few vaguely familiar faces among the lingering crowd. Wealthy socialites like Juliet Bryson—a beautiful brunette, and someone who definitely overlaps in the Van der Vorm circle—crowd the balcony overlooking the room. I steer clear of her and the two men she’s speaking to, just in case.
At the bar, I order a lemon-drop shot and down it quickly, letting the liquid heat my insides. The bartender quirks a brow, and I nod toward them, taking the second glass they slide in my direction.
Just as I press the rim to my lips, a voice startles me, and the alcohol dribbles down my chin instead.
“Oh,quelle pauvre petite chiot. Are you nervous?”
My gaze swivels toward a tall woman with striking brown eyes, pale skin, and jet-black hair. Her deep-red gown does nothing to hide her lithe form and curves, and she gives me a feline smile over a martini glass as she openly ogles me.
Her assessment is warm, and I feel it somewhere in my chest.
As people pass by, they can’t seem to help staring at us—ather. She oozes sensuality, and a low heat simmers in myabdomen as she slides closer, her grin widening as she seems to tower over me.
I will a response past my lips, wiping them with the back of my hand. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”
She cocks a brow. “Aside from how quickly you just took that shot?”
My chin lifts slightly. “Okay, maybe I needed a little liquid courage.”
“Ah.” My new companion nods as if she’s already come to the same conclusion. “Let me guess: you’re a scorned lover who thought coming to an A-list party might make you feel better about your shitty love life, but you’ve quickly realized how out of your element you are. That even if your former paramourishere, they might not even care that you are when there are so many other options.”
As if to punctuate the accusation, a couple several feet away from us twists into a corner, their hands disappearing beneath their clothing as class and elegance devolve into something heady and dark. The air shifts in puffy clouds around us, growing thick as I rip my gaze from the sudden display.
At my side, the woman gives a low chuckle. “Now you’re wondering how long you have to stay before you can slip out unnoticed.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you,” she continues, her voice like pure honey, “butunnoticedwon’t be possible. Not with this crowd and not with someone like you.”
“Is that so?” I purr, leaning in. I’m not adept at flirting, but she seems to be eating it up as she moves closer. “I haven’t seen any double takes, and no one is lining up to buy me a drink.”
Our hands rest next to each other on the bar top.
“They wouldn’t dare try to denymean opportunity.” A pause as she once again sizes me up. I wonder if my cheeksare as bright as they feel. “If you know any of the people here, rest assured they know who you are, too. Even if everyone is pretending not to notice, you’re an impossible sight to look away from.”
My eyes narrow slightly as I return her sultry gaze. That almost sounds like a threat.
“You’re very forward,” I note.
Her grin widens. “‘Forward’ is synonymous with progress. How would anyone ever get what they want by standing still?”
“Ever heard of the long game?” With each word that comes from my mouth, my nerves tangle together like a cluster of fine rope.
There’s no doubt she’s out of my league.
“Are you suggesting you need to be courted?” she asks.
“It might be a nice change of pace.”
