Page 1 of Taboo Flames

CHAPTER 1

Aurora

My bedroom resembles the aftermath of a battlefield. It’s an upheaval mess, with clothes strewn everywhere after hours of ransacking my closet to find something suitable to wear for tonight's party.

Thankfully, I’ve managed to piece together a stunning ensemble.

The mess is a small price to pay for the satisfaction of looking absolutely fabulous. Looking fabulous is non-negotiable, which is really all that matters anyway.

Right on time, my phone pings with a text notification from my friend Kara informing me that she is waiting downstairs. I take a moment to smooth out the wrinkles on my blue silk dress, snatch up my silver mask adorned with feathers, and rush downstairs.

Outside, my chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce is idling in front, and as I approach, the driver emerges like a silent sentinel and holds the door open with a courteous nod.

“Looking beautiful as always, Signora Aurora,” he chimes.

“Thank you, Angelo,” I respond with a smile before climbing into the spacious back seat.

Kara dives straight into the gossip as soon as I settle in. “Can you believe Carlotta found out I was going to be wearing that red dress and managed to find the exact replica?” she reveals, her tone dripping with disdain.

“No way. She didn’t!” I say with a gasp, genuinely in shock, although my shock has a bit more to do with why this is even an issue.

“She did. I saw it in one of her minion’s stories. She didn’t even look that good in it. Red isn’t her color at all, and her legs are too short to pull off a thigh-high slit,” she sneers.

I glance at the black bandage dress she has on. “You still look drop-dead gorgeous, Kar,” I reassure her.

“Not that particular Coco-Chanel-red-dress-gorgeous,” she retorts. “I practically baked myself under the sun getting tanned yesterday just to rock that piece. We need to put Carlotta in her place.”

I raise a brow at her. “And how, pray tell, do you propose we do that? Throw champagne in her face at the party?”

Kara rolls her eyes, unimpressed by my jest. “You’re the most well-connected person I know, Rory. Can’t you arrange for someone to give her a little scare in a dark alley or something?”

I laugh, amused at her active imagination. “And which one of us will make sure she walks through that dark alley so my diabolical scheme can unfold?” I tease.

Kara gives me a dark look, a scornful and overly unenthusiastic glare before huffing and turning away in annoyance.

Kara and I are only friends by the loosest definition of the word, so I was more than a little surprised by her sudden invitation yesterday to attend the party together.

It has barely been ten minutes, and I’ve already gotten to the root of her ulterior motive. This is disappointing but not unexpected.

The car slides to a stop as it joins the long line of cars waiting to get into the compound where the party will be taking place.

“This line is endless,” Kara begins her familiar whining. I know this is also one of her attempts to leverage my connections for VIP treatment, so I ignore her, leaving her to mumble and groan about everything.

Finally, after a few minutes, we enter the compound and are now pretty near the entrance of the building. However, most of my entire focus is now on what is happening across the street.

A slender man in a tacky-looking suit is trying to drag a girl in a barely there mini-dress toward a car. The girl is fighting back with all her might, but it’s clear she’s outmatched. The worst part is that no one seems to be all that interested in helping the girl.

I don’t even think. I just swing open my door, hop out of the car, and hurry toward the two.

“What are you doing, miss?” I hear the driver call out to me in panic, but I ignore him and quicken my pace.

One of the party’s security personnel tries to intercept me, but I deftly sidestep him, effectively evading him and grabbing the baton hooked onto his belt as I pass.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” I demand as I reach them.

The man looks over his shoulder at me and growls, “Stay out of this, princess.”

“Help me,” the thrashing girl cries. “I don’t want to do this anymore, and he won’t give me my money so I can leave. I don’t even want the money anymore.”

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