Page 1 of Always Knew It Was You

CHAPTER ONE

CARLY

“Oh my gosh, that is the most darling bracelet I have ever seen in my life!”

I glance over at the grandiose exclamation, eyeing the tennis bracelet encircling the brunette’s wrist. I’m standing with a group of women near the newly installed French windows overlooking the glistening lake in front of the vast forest.

“Thank you,” she responds graciously. “Remy bought it at Boucheron the last time he was in Monaco. Allegedly, it belonged to the Countess of Castiglione herself. Only three of these are in the entire world. It cost Remy a hundred thousand and one of his properties in London, but gosh, isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is,” the three other women coo and I join them. Internally though, I’m reeling.

I’m lucky there’s a mask hiding my expression, and I sip on champagne to cover up my gape. A hundred thousand dollars? Plus a house? For that? Sure it’s a nice bracelet, but I’m pretty sure I could get something similar at Nordstrom out in Bayview for a couple hundred dollars. Maybe half that, if it was on sale.

But then again, the women standing beside me are pretty clearly in a whole different financial stratosphere from me. Everyone in this party is.

It’s a VIP event, a masquerade ball held in the grand hall of the Pink Hotel, meant to remind of the glory days of the historic hotel. Across the rich brown of the exotic hardwood floors, various guests in suits, gowns and elaborate masks gather in groups to enjoy the first exclusive showing of the hotel and the famed Pink Pearl.

The elite guests drift around the newly renovated Victorian ballroom of the Pink Hotel, some admiring the artwork lining the intricate Windsor-paneled walls. A few others coagulate in groups like the one I’m part of, making low conversation with occasional bursts of laughter. Some are reclined in the vintage Restoration-era armchairs fixed in the corners of the room. Others–thanks to the ample champagne–are clearly enjoying a nice buzz, and are now dancing to the softly lilting classical music coming from the quintet on the raised stage. They’re apparently a famous orchestra group, consisting of a piano, saxophone, and a variety of violins. The theme of the evening isScarlet Nightand so the orchestra, like most guests, are masked and dressed in satin and silks of reds and blacks, sparkling and shining under the warm golden light of the crystal chandelier. Set high into a blue ceiling, the light fixture resembles a thousand diamonds dripping from the sky.

I feel like I’ve walked into a scene fromThe Great Gatsbyand I’m trying not to feel out of place.

Trying and failing.

“Remy’s been working hard these days, and he wanted something to make up for his absence,” the brunette bracelet-owner–Cherise she said her name was–continues.

“Aww, how adorable,” the blonde one with her hair in an elaborate coiffe says. She never introduced herself, but the other women call her V.

“Your love is so beautiful it makes me sob,” the third, dark-haired woman says in a quiet voice. She seems to be the quietest of the group and has neither introduced herself nor has she offered up any information about herself.

“I know!” V says. “I’m so jealous because you literally have the perfect husband.”

“The absolute perfect husband,” the final woman, Heather, says. “With the perfect family and the perfect life. I can’t even be jealous, because you deserve it so much, my friend.”

The other two women hum their approval while Cherise beams.

I wonder if I’m the only one who can taste the utter fakery in the atmosphere.

I can’t see any of their expressions, thanks to the lacy asymmetric masks sitting on the upper half of their faces, but I definitely know they’re being less than honest.

And then they turn that look to me, and I realize that I’m the only one who hasn’t said anything yet.

“It’s a beautiful bracelet,” I admit.Not a hundred thousand dollars beautiful but beautiful all the same.It was jeweled squares laced around a simple band. High-carat diamonds probably. It undoubtedly cost a lot to make, thanks to the intricate craftsmanship.

But a hundred thousand…I can imagine a plethora of other things I would do with that money. I wouldn’t have to worry about my scholarship. Maybe get my parents out of that slowly dilapidating house. Get my cousin out of jail…even though he wholly deserves to be in there; I can’t help the tightness in my gut whenever I think about it.

“Thank you,” Cherise says. “And don’t think I haven’t been eyeing yourQueen’s Dynastyall night.”

“My….what?”

Her eyes flash in surprise. “Your necklace? Don’t tell me you don’t know what it’s called?”

My hand drifts up to touch the elaborate ruby gems webbed around my neck. “No?”

My best friend Emma called it a statement necklace when it was handed to me, but never mentioned it had a name. Truthfully, I thought the jewelry was a little much, but it matched with my sleek black dress perfectly. And the dress was a simple silk strapless number that even I had to admit made me look wholly like a million bucks.

But neither were mine.

Both the dress and the necklace belonged to Rachel, Emma’s fiance’s ex-wife. Rachel is a fashion designer, a pretty prolific one, who recently had a string of successful shows at Paris Fashion Week. She insisted on dressing both Emma and me for the occasion today after she took one look at the outfits we planned to wear.

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