Page 38 of The Weekend Getaway

Like a place where Marie Antoinette would have slept. Lots of French provincial furniture.

Next to her, Sarah was disoriented and stumbling, barely able to keep her eyes open. Grabbing Sarah’s wrist, Grace pulled Sarah to the bed and helped her lie down.

“I’ll get you some water,” Grace mumbled, gawking as she glanced around the room.

She could get used to living in a place like this. One day, maybe she would. Of course, she’d probably have to find a way to pay for it herself. Or maybe Chris would do okay, moneywise, in his career and be able to buy her a huge house.

Grace certainly wasn’t going to marry into money. Yeah, itcould happen, but rich people usually ended up with rich people. Like at WBU, the rich guys never gave a second thought to scholarship girls like her, unless they were gorgeous, like Sarah, who had been with her fair share of trust fund babies. But it was just sex. None of them was going to ask Sarah for her hand in marriage. With her lower middle-class upbringing, Sarah didn’t have the money, prominent family, or social status to interest a rich guy beyond the bedroom.

Staring at the art on the walls, Grace wondered how much she could pawn the paintings for. She wondered what other goodies might be hiding in the bureau drawers and the dresser. Might be lots of shit to steal in a room like this.

Grace wasn’t a thief, but since she enrolled in WBU, she’d developed a habit of taking things that didn’t belong to her. Like she was at a party and some rich girl was passed out in her own puke in the bathroom, left behind by her friends, and Grace removed the diamond tennis bracelet from the girl’s wrist because, frankly, she probably wouldn’t miss it, and if she did, she’d just buy herself another one, with even bigger diamonds.

And then there was the time, before she became roommates with Sarah and Mia, when she shared a dorm with an energy heiress, and she would swipe cash from the girl’s Hermes Birkin after she went to sleep. Grace would pluck two, three, and sometimes five hundred dollars from the Chanel wallet. And the bitch never even noticed. Never complained about missing money. Because when all you had was money, you never missed it. Once, someone left anexpensive laptop in her European history class. She’d pawned it for a few hundred bucks.

Maybe, after she got the water for Sarah, she’d look around the bedroom for something to take. Or, maybe not. A place like this, a chalet, probably had hidden cameras everywhere.

She wasn’t going to get caught stealing.

Phil Richart was probably the kind of heartless bastard who would press charges and have her fat ass thrown in jail.

CHAPTER 35

Fifteen Years Ago

1:44 a.m.

Phil

Phil entered the room, hurried to the bed where Sarah lay. From the bathroom, he heard water running. What was Grace doing? Maybe getting Sarah some water? Maybe wetting a towel to place against Sarah’s forehead?

Phil stared at Sarah.

Despite her flushed, damp face, Sarah was beautiful. Sort of like Snow White, Phil couldn’t help thinking. He’d thought that when he first met her, several weeks ago, when Alex introduced them. A fucking gorgeous girl. Glossy, milky white skin. Dark hair. A heart-shaped face and full mouth. Ripe red lips, begging to be kissed. Phil had thought about approaching her. He’d decided not to bother when he’d spotted her andAlex in a small petite salon where they thought no one would find them.

But Phil had seen everything.

He’d been heading back to the party from the restroom when he heard moaning and grunting in the petite salon. Laughing to himself, he’d opened the door a crack and glanced inside. Alex and Sarah had been too busy going at it like the fate of the world depended on it to notice him.

Phil watched for a moment, or two.

Closing the door and stepping away, he’d wondered what Mia, Alex’s girlfriend, would think if she found out.

But most of all, Phil wondered what it was like to hook up with Sarah …

Gazing at her now, with her eyes closed and her pouty mouth slightly open, Phil wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Reaching a hand toward her face, Phil caressed her cheek, moving his fingers along her smooth, dewy skin…

CHAPTER 36

Fifteen Years Ago

1:46 a.m.

Grace

Grace stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She frowned, turning her head from left to right, scrutinizing herself from various angles. She wasn’t bad looking. Actually, with her ski-jump nose and Cupid’s bow lips, she was pretty cute. A sort of plus-sized Barbie, with cornflower blue eyes and long, bouncy curls. But she was still fat. There was no getting around that fact. Her red mini-dress, which she’d shoplifted from a thrift store, was made from unforgiving fabric that made her look like a stuffed sausage. How was she going to attract a football player with her plump face, double chin, and fat rolls? Maybe her large boobs would help her out?

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