The flower stenciled bedspread looks like a floral explosion and wooden wall panels are painted in duck egg blue.
“What are you thinking? Sexy kitten or understated slut?” Her voice muffles when she moves deeper into the dressing room. “Halter neck or strapless?”
My phone buzzes in my bag, making my ribcage tighten. Taking a deep breath, I fish it out and hesitantly peer at the screen. A missed call from André and a text message.
Dré: Your phone went straight to voicemail. Does Gio live in a black hole? Call me back.
“India?” Ana appears in front of me, stripped to her panties and bra with dresses draping her forearm. “Slutty or sweet?”
I set my bag down and grab a dress, looking at the options. I’m instantly drawn to the satin yellow bodycon and its dazzling rhinestone shoulder straps.
There’s something about yellow that brightens my mood. Some people wear dark colors to depict their grief, however my withered heart is already black, so I may as well lie on the outside.
“How about this one?”
“Perfect.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Fabian will trip over his tongue when he sees you.”
11
INDIA
When I step out of the Bentley, Ana hooks my arm with hers. An excited expression is written all over her face.
Mrs. Vargas arranged for a makeup artist and hair stylist to help us get ready. It’s the first time I’ve had professionals fuss over me, never mind being allowed to drink champagne.
Growing up, I’d experimented with various shades of eyeshadow, different brands of concealers, and tried a multitude of techniques from YouTube. However, I’ve never pulled off a stunning look like this before. I don’t feel like India, the teenager, anymore, more like an independent woman.
A buzz of alcohol warms my veins. Being sensible, I’d stopped drinking after half a glass of bubbly. The butterflies in my stomach made it impossible to enjoy.
Deep dancey beats vibrate through me when we strut towards the three-story building adorned with purple neon lights situated in the swanky part of town.
Elysian’s bouncer gives us the once over and, without hesitation, steps aside to let us in.
Ana leans into my ear. “We’ll get a drink first and then look for Fabian.”
“What will it be, ladies?” The sharply dressed bartender passes a drinks menu across the shiny bar.
While I study cocktail names, my spine tingles as if I’m being watched. Looking at the unfamiliar faces in the crowd, I tell myself that paranoia and guilt go hand in hand.
My emotions are trying to screw me over. Or maybe Reno’s temper is vibrating from the other side.
“What would you recommend?” Ana asks the bartender, her tone flirty.
“Maybe start with a Pacific Mule. They’re a popular choice.”
“Make that two.” I quickly add, not knowing what to pick.
“New girl.” An arm snakes my shoulder. “You made it.”
My lips fall open. The spicy scent of Fabian’s cologne invades my personal space. He pivots, moving in beside me. The arm on my shoulder falls away, and he props his elbows on the bar, facing the room.
“Nice dress.” He nods his head in appreciation, raising his voice to be heard. “I’m glad you came.”
“Yeah, Ana is quite persuasive.” I smile, my gaze drifting down his sinewy neck to a thick gold chain and floral print navy shirt, unbuttoned three quarters of the way down his muscular chest.
There’s no questioning his dedication to fitness. He’s every schoolgirl's fantasy—just not mine.
In any other circumstance, I’d be swooning for this guy. Tonight, I’m not feeling it. Instead, I’m worried about Giovanni and whether I’ve pushed him too far or if he’d see this as childish rebellion.
