Page 42 of Blood Descendants


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Yes, I answer him, my brow furrowing.

Open it.

So, he wants to brag, I think to myself as I reach for the white envelope. I tear it open and pull out the pages.

Only it isn’t a statement. It’s a brand-new black card. And it has my name printed on it.

What the fuck is this?I fire off.

I know you said money is a touchy subject, but I can’t ask you to pay for shit you wouldn’t normally be buying, he answers me.Don’t make it more of a thing than it is. Take it with you. Billings knows where you’re going.

Okay, Augustus, I send off, both amused and annoyed.

Don’t ever call me that again, Lana. This is your only warning.

My face heats as I blush.

That really was rude of me. Ares might have money, and hemight be sending me on a shopping trip, but he’s nothing like his shark of a father.

Sorry, I type out.That was a dick thing of me to say. Thank you.

He simply likes my message.

I’m not sure how to interpret that, but I don’t let myself overthink it. I peel the card off the page and activate it. And then I dash into the shower to hurry and get ready.

Exactly an hour later, I walk out to the curb just as Billings pulls up. He opens the door for me, and I climb in. And he sets off down the road. Just fifteen minutes later, we stop in front of a shop with a name so fancy, I don’t even know how to pronounce it.

But as I walk into the shop alone, I swallow once. Ophelia should be with me. She loved an excuse to get dressed up.Loves, I correct myself.

I internally chide myself for thinking in past tense.

I’m going to find her. It’s taking forever. And currently, with no leads, it’s easy to feel hopeless. But I’m going to find her.

But damn. I really need more friends. Who wants to shop for a fancy event by themselves?

I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. When I reach her name, I click it and hold the device to my ear.

“Lana,” Clementine’s friendly voice comes through. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Hey,” I greet her. “Any chance you’re free. Like, right now?”

“Everything alright?” she asks, her tone shifting to worried.

“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “Ares has just sent me on a shopping hunt, and I feel pretty fucking lame doing it by myself.”

“I am so glad you called,” she simply says and asks for my location. She assures me she will be here in fifteen minutes, and we end the call.

I would have called Ares’ sister, Florence, but as the head of a pharmaceutical company, there’s no way she won’t be busy at work at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday. But Clementine, her wife, is the sweetest and calmest person I’ve ever met.

Twenty-five minutes later, because she does everything with understated flare, Clementine glides through the front doors, a serious set of sunglasses perched on her face.

And it’s the perfect afternoon. Trying on dresses that cost over ten grand a piece. Rejecting the ones we hate. Complimenting one another. Twirling before the mirror. And I don’t know if the shop workers know who we are or if they can just smell the money, but they bend over backward for us.

And a huge part of me hates it. Acting like a spoiled, rich girlfriend. Looking like one.

But there’s another part, one that appreciates having someone wait on me for a change. That feels like I’ve let out a breath at being taken care of for the first time in forever and ever.

By the end of the afternoon, Clementine stands beside me wearing a deep blue dress that lays across her chest and stomach in folds before fanning out around her. In contrast with her skin, she’s radiant. And I stand there in a golden dress that is dangerously close to the same shade as my skin. I damn near look naked. It hugs my chest with a severe pattern that’s sharp and pointed. And then it looks damn near painted on my waist. It hugs my ass and hips before gathering into a gorgeous bustle and then cascading down to the floor.