Page 29 of Gilded Kisses

My lungs cramp from the level of profanities I want to hurl at him. “Again, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Go home. Have some birthday cake, blow out some candles and I will see you tomorrow.”

Fuck. I forgot. “Who cares about another damn birthday?”

“Go, Aster.”

His blatant dismissal burns me to the soul. “The hell you will.” I give him the same fake smile I give every asshole in this place before turning on my heel and blowing out of this joint.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

I only wish I knew how prophetic my last words to him would be. And how right he was.

Seven

Aster

Half an hour later, I walk into my family’s home to find twenty-seven candles set into perfectly fluffed snow-white icing.

Acid rolls and swashes in my stomach. I hate birthdays with a passion.

I lean in and smell the sugary sweetness.

But I love cake.

I check behind me before I swipe a finger full of buttery cream from the base. A little thing I’ve done since I can remember. To a six-year-old, her life started and ended with cake. Or at least mine did. Now, it does nothing to ease the burn of hurt left on my heart by way too many ruined birthdays.

I sigh heavily. This family drains me of my sanity.

A little of the heat of my anger faded on my drive to my parents’ mansion. I’m not angry now. A little nod toward that therapy bill.

What I am now is livid. What a catastrophic mistake to think Harlon would be open-minded enough to see me as an asset instead of a little girl wanting a seat at the big people’s table.

My godfathers didn’t think I could handle their kind of lifestyle, and now Harlon wants to hold me back.

Fuck him and everyone else.

My heart hurts to admit it, but I don’t know where else I fit in here. I can’t be here anymore. Not and find what I am looking for. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but when do I get to be happy? Or will my life be forever tied to theirs?

I don’t have many answers. But I know I won’t find it in these glittery boxes filled with expensive gifts from my father’s minions. They are only looking to remain in his good grace. I lift a tag and sure enough, the family lawyer has done his duty to leave the boss’ daughter a present for her birthday.

I lift my gaze and stare around the room, sick to my stomach.

Expensive flower arrangements and copious amounts of pink balloons line the entire formal dining room. Gleaming silver cutlery, fine china and a few bottles of chilled champagne fill the leftover spaces.

Overhead hangs a pretty mauve pink birthday banner with my name splashed on it in bone white. It’s the same every year. Of course, it’s my mother’s handy work. All of this is my mother’s work, in fact. Like every year, all this effort is not for my benefit. It’s for the guests set to arrive in an hour. The spectacle they’ll put on to show off their wealth and power. This level of glam took hours to set up and requires help.

Come to think of it…

I turn in a slow circle and find no one. Where is all the help? The family security team—my father’s personal team of hired thugs?

Something is wrong. I can feel it. On my way in, hadn’t I noticed the outside lights turned off? They are never off. Morning, noon and night, the twin sconces on either side of the front entrance are always shining.

Partly because no one can remember to turn them off. But mainly as a sign that everyone is welcome in the Constantine home if they can get past the security gate and armed guards.

Who are nowhere to be seen.

I walk through the downstairs, flicking on lights as I go. The sun will set soon and the long shadows feeding through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows creep me out.

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