Page 33 of Sinful
“Hey watch it. That’s Balenciaga.”
I apologize to the woman and stumble away from them. It’s a mistake. In my chair, I was tethered to something, but now I’m adrift. My heart begins to pound once again as I try to latch onto something, but the table and chairs are out of my reach and I’m disoriented by so many people. I know I must stand out a mile as I walk forward with my hands out, my feet feeling for other designer handbag obstacles that could send me sprawling. It’s like walking through a minefield of designer bags and designer perfume. I let out a breath when my hand touches something hard. It’s only when someone asks me what I want to drink that I realize I’m at a bar. “Champagne please.” I don’t have money to pay for it, but the last one was free, so I’m hoping this one is too. If not, I’ll charge it to Alexander. If he is heir to billions, he can afford a glass of champagne or two. I consider it payment for this great lie he’s dragged me into and for playing his cousin for the evening. It occurs to me that if he has billions, why is he holding me captive for a paltry thirty million? Maybe he likes holding girls captive. Mercier certainly seems to get a thrill from it, but so far Alexander has seemed annoyed by my presence. Maybe Jessica was right, and he was disinherited. There’s so much going on here, that I have to kick myself to remind me that I shouldn’t care. I want information about Dacre, but I shouldn’t be so invested in it.
A champagne flute is placed in front of me. I hear the glass touch the top of the bar. No payment is asked for, so I take the champagne and sip it quickly. I've already disobeyed Alexander by moving from my chair, so there’s really nothing stopping me from doing what I want to do. Fear threatens to paralyze me, but the champagne is doing a great job of keeping it at bay. I step away from the bar, this time with one hand on my glass and the other at my side. No more playing the dumb blind girl. I know how to avoid obstacles. If I walk slowly and feel with my feet, I think I can get away with being just like these people. I want to hear the music. It’s being played in the distance at the other side of a large room, but with the noise of the chatter, I can’t hear it well enough. I make it my mission to find somewhere to sit closer to the string quartet and enjoy my evening.
I bump into a few people as I walk, but a few hurriedsorry’sand I’m not questioned.
The people here are so up their own asses that I could probably get out a cane and wave it around in front of me and they wouldn’t take notice unless I spill champagne on their handbags.
A hand grabs the fleshy part of my arm and spins me around on the spot, sloshing what little is left of my champagne over the edge of the glass and onto my fingers. “What the fuck are you doing?” Dacre hisses in my ear. His voice drips with venom, low and angry. My initial reaction is to cringe in fear, but the champagne has fueled me with the confidence I usually lack.
“You left me!” I say, pulling my arm from his grip. “You know that I don’t know anyone and I don’t know this place, but you left me on my own while you swanned off with your rich friends. What if there’d been a fire? What if I got hurt? Died? I guess you might give a shit then at the thought of losing your precious thirty million dollars now that mommy and daddy have disinherited you.”
I’m not sure if it is true, but is explains why he’s so weird and why, despite hating everything about me, he was the most vocal to keep me locked up instead of just taking me back to my father right at the start.
He takes my hand and pulls me roughly through the crowd. It takes every ounce of concentration not to trip over my own feet.
“Where did you hear that?”
“What?” My brain has started to spin and I’m regretting drinking two glasses of champagne so fast on an empty stomach. I’ve totally lost track of the conversation we were having.
“About me being disinherited?” His voice is lower now. He doesn’t want anyone hearing this conversation.
Oh that. “I don’t know. Some people were talking about it. A man and a woman.”
“Shit,” he lets out a long breath. “Who? Can you describe them?”
“Yes, the man was sixteen feet tall, and the woman was wearing ostrich feathers in her hair.”
I can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, and yet I can’t help it. What kind of idiot asks a blind person to describe someone? “She sounded European, and he sounded bored.”
“How many of these have you had?” he asks, roughly taking the glass from my hand.
“I would have had two if you hadn’t made me spill half the last one,” I say, beginning to feel irritated by this whole charade.
“We’re going home.” He sounds like all the other assholes in here, except with an English accent. His worlds are commanding and stiff and leave no room to be ignored. He pulls me by the arm to another part of the room. Somewhere where the music doesn’t reach quite as well.
“No.”
I don’t know what makes me say it. This whole party is like an alien world full of obstacles, and yet I was beginning to enjoy myself. I’m not ready to go back to the apartment where I’m not allowed to touch anything or do anything. Even as I say the word, I feel the air between us thicken.
“No?” he says darkly. He’s so close to me I can feel his breath on my cheek. I smell the hint of a cigar on him, though I don’t think he’s been smoking, just standing near to someone that has. It reminds me of Josh and in than instant I remember that this is only an interlude in the prison that is my life. They’ve still not told me how they plan on getting the money from my father. I have only a few days left until they realize I’ve tricked them, and then what? They’ll give me back to my father anyway and I’ll go back to my prison.
“Let me remind you, Lucinda, that you are here because I’ve let you be here. I could have left you at home.”
“It’s not my home,” I say to him. I don’t have a home. I’ve never had a home, I’ve had the house I’ve grown up in, but that could never be called a home. “And don’t pretend you brought me here as a favor to me. You brought me here because you needed a date for this miserable function and that’s all. You did this for yourself. You are a sad pathetic money grabbing asshole, who bullies women for their own gain, and I really fucking hate you.”
My cheek stings as a sharp slap rattles my brain.
Dacre has finally done what he’s been threatening to do since the first moment we met. He’s shown me his true colors, and they are all black.
27
DACRE
So the timid Lucinda has finally found her voice and at such an inconvenient time. I don’t need her deciding to grow a backbone right in the middle of my party. She glares at me with such ferocity that the dark glasses can’t hide her anger. For a second I wonder if Nix hasn’t been wrong this whole time, and she’s not blind at all. Maybe everything about her is a lie. There’s certainly enough about her that doesn’t add up. And now is not the time to be trying to figure her out. I just want her to sit quietly while I make my ideas known to Letterman. I’m already riled up by the fact that every single person I’ve spoken to so far has mentioned my father to me, like I’m not capable of doing anything without him. The asshole doesn’t even know I’m here, but he’s sure to find out with all the malicious gossip. Even Lucinda has heard them talking behind my back. They are like a den of fucking vipers in formal wear. Lucinda looks like the only normal person here, which is laughable. She’s the richest of all of them. If any of these gutter snipes knew who she was, they’d be tripping over themselves to talk to her. Then she could spend the evening listening to them blather on about her fucking father.
“I want to go and listen to the music.”
