We continue past the driveway, up the giant, square steps framed by large pots, white gardenias perfectly rounded inside them.
I hate gardenias and the white does nothing for the house.
I pause when the front door is opened and Elena stands inside, a binder in her hand and a kind curl to her lips.
“Hello, Jameson.”
“Elena.” I offer a smile. “Nice to see you.”
She nods, stepping back as Anthony leads us inside.
I scan the walls, surprised by the life inside the place.
The couches are wide and deep set, as if meant for movie nights or comfort rather than for show, as the ones in my living room are. The ceiling is high, and the light natural.
The walls are a soft gray, the trim stark white, and giant art pieces cover the walls. It’s bright and inviting.
Anthony squeezes my hand and I turn my eyes to his.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“It’s beautiful.”
He pulls me along, up a set of wooden plank spaced stairs to the second story.
There are doors on both the left and right side, a slider that leads to the front balcony behind us and a giant window at the back.
Anthony releases me and steps ahead, but I’m close behind. I get as close as possible and my eyes widen.
The light shines in, the sun high this time of day, and beaming through the loft-like space, creating a tranquil setting.
I step up to the glass, careful not to touch and leave fingerprints behind. “Wow.”
The ocean is just below the hillside, the house at the deepest point of the cul-de-sac, so there are no neighbors to see inside, no private back access for others to look up and through the glass. It’s just pure ocean for miles.
A low rumble sounds around me, and I turn, my eyes sliding to an electric fireplace running along the mantel.
Anthony sets the remote down, slowly peeling his suit jacket from his body next, his eyes intent and on me.
He tosses it over the back of the chair and slowly stalks toward me.
I know what the need for affirmation looks like, and it’s written over every inch of his face, so while I’m tempted to move, I know better than to actually do so.
But over his shoulder, something catches my attention, and my eyes follow.
Pearls.
An iridescent vase full of them.
A frown begins to build, but I refocus when Anthony’s hands land on my biceps.
“This is my home.” He gauges me. “Soon, it will be yours too.”
An anxious laugh slips, but I play it off as well as I can, and repeat what I already said because I’ve got nothing else. “It’s beautiful.”
“You, Jameson, are beautiful.” The look in his eyes shifts and I prepare myself for what follows.
He leans in, and I close my eyes as Anthony presses his lips against mine.
An unexpected, alarming hint of guilt warms my stomach and my features pull. My eyes fly open and I almost blanch when I find Anthony studying my expression, as if he never closed his own.
He straightens and while I quirk my lips upward, his point down.
He nods, sighs, and steps toward the small glass end table, pouring himself a glass of scotch from the crystal decanter, turning to me once more.
I smile, but his facial expression doesn’t budge.
It’s blank.
“Elena,” he calls, and soft footsteps pad on the stairs behind us.
I begin to turn, but he grips my chin. I expect him to tell her to have our meal brought up here or something along those lines, but he stands there swirling his glass and tips his head slightly.
For the first time, he inspects my cheek, his grip on my face tightening, borderline bruising, and my eyes narrow, but his hand falls in the next second.
“Get the car ready to take Miss Filano home, lunch is canceled for today.” He takes a slow sip of his dark liquor.
My blood pressure rises as I stare him in the eye, a million demands flickering within his.
Anthony gives his back to me, walking toward the fireplace, so I turn and make my way down the stairs, but I only get to the third when his words ring out behind me. “Next time you decide to change your hair, let me know beforehand.”
My head jerks over my shoulder, and he cocks his head, a dead look in his eyes as he says, “I want you to appear naturally beautiful and moves like that are proof that you are not.”
I open my mouth, my fist clenching the railing, and he watches me through sharp eyes, as if he’s daring me to object.
He takes another sip.
Any means necessary.
I smile. “Enjoy your afternoon, Anthony.”
His chin lifts slightly. “See you soon, sweetheart.”
I leave, and the entire ride home I can’t help but heed his goodbye as a threat.
I’m in a shit mood for days after my ‘date’ with Anthony.
Thankfully, it’s a short schedule at school all week as the student committee prepares for the upcoming dance. Every day of the week it’s pretty much princess prep once the bell rings.
Monday, all of us girls meet for facials and salt scrubs. Tuesday afternoon, it’s mani-pedis. Wednesday is for waxing and today, final fittings at the boutique.
I managed to get out of the trip to the inner city since I lied and said my dress was on its way. Little did I know but should have fully expected my mother had it covered, and a golden gown arrived late Monday night. What I was unable to escape was the private premiere party at Jules’ house for her mom’s next film.
Every release, the night before the red-carpet event, her mom arranges for Jules and Amy’s friends to come over for the ‘privilege’ of early viewing. Everyone who shows has to sign a waiver, agreeing not to talk about it until the following day, when they are required to blast it over social media.
I didn’t sign, but her mom only smiled my way, so I assume she knows my mom would lawyer her ass if she even thought to ask me for my signature.
The movie is a good forty minutes in, Jules is trashed, Dax disappeared twenty minutes ago, and Cali is engrossed in her phone. Scott has passed out beside me and I’m more than ready to get out of here, so when Beretta texts to say he ‘needs’ to pick me up, I say okay.
I step onto the balcony, my eyes on the street ahead.
Mere minutes pass when headlights come around the corner, and an unexpected sigh escapes.
A mocking laugh fills the air behind me, and I spin, squinting.
Amy slips from the dark corner of the patio, a nasty grin on her face.
“You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” She laughs again. “Being their whore, keeping your secret? Or should I say... secrets.”
My shoulder blades tighten, but I keep my expression blank as I turn to face her, the roar of the engine now at my back.
She eyes me a long moment, her head tilting to the side as a smile spreads along her lips.
“What do you want, Amy?”
“I’m trying to figure out if you really are as clueless as you seem, because, if so, that’s just... tragic.”
My fists clench, but I hide them behind my back. “I can ask if you can join in, if that’s why you care, or why you watch them from across the room every chance you get. Waiting to be seen, are we?”
“Oh, honey.” Her smile surprises me, but I don’t show it. “I’ve been seen, and clearly you’ve had them.”