Page 12 of Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

He looked upon me and I very nearly vomited onto the carpet at my feet. I was scared of very few things but of those few things, my father stood atop the list.

“Ah,” he said, drinking in my appearance. “I see you’re alive.”

I nodded once succinctly. I was standing in the doorway and Pemmy prodded me forward. I glanced behind me briefly to scowl before fixing my expression ahead. Pembrook was on the verge of laughing. Sod off! I wanted to yell, to borrow a phrase from his people’s vernacular, but I kept my mouth shut instead not wanting to wake the dragon before me any more than he was already awake.

“Let’s see,” he said, settling into his creaky, leather office chair. He began to stuff his pipe. “A second drug offense, Sophie Price. I’m not exactly sure how I plan to keep this out of the media this time. PR has their work cut out for them, it seems. I can barely stand to look at you, so this will be brief. You are required to attend a formal dinner tonight. I expect you to get some sleep, remove those hideous bags from underneath your eyes, dress properly and entertain the son of Calico’s CEO. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I squeaked out.

“Do you? By entertain, I mean show the boy the house, make conversation. I do not mean offer him anything illegal.”

“I would never—” I began, but my father cut me short.

relessly pushed the rest of my belongings in a pile over to me and I almost screamed at him that he was handling a ten-thousand-dollar outfit like it was from Wal-Mart.

“You can change in there,” he said, pointing at an infinitesimal door.

The bathroom was small and I had to balance my belongings on a disgusting sink.

“Well, these are going in the incinerator,” I said absently.

I got dressed sans hose, returned my ridiculous jumpsuit and entered the lobby. Repulsive, dirty men sat waiting for whatever jailed fool they bothered to bail. They eyed me with bawdy stares and I could only glare back, too tired to give them a piece of my mind.

Near the glass entry doors, the sun was just cresting the horizon and I made out the silhouette of the only person I would have expected to come to my rescue.

Standing more than six feet tall, so thin his bones protruded from his face, but with stylish, somewhat long hair, reminiscent of the nineteen-thirties, clad in a fitted Italian suit, stood Pembrook.

“Hello, Pembrook,” I greeted him with acid. “I see my father was too busy to come himself.”

“Ah, so lovely to see you too, Sophie.”

“Stop with the condescension,” I sneered.

“Oh, but I’m not. It is the highlight of my week bailing you from this godforsaken pit of bacteria.” He eyed me up and down with regret. “I suppose I needed to get the interior of my car cleaned anyway.”

“You’re so clever, Pembrook.”

“I know,” he said simply. “To comment on your earlier observation, your father was too busy to get you. He does want you to know that he is severely disappointed.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I shall try harder next time not to get caught.”

Pembrook stopped and gritted his teeth before opening the passenger door for me. “You, young lady, are sorely unaware of the gravity of this charge.”

“You’re a brilliant attorney, Pembrook, with millions at your disposal,” I said, settling into his Mercedes.

He walked around the front of the car and sat in the driver’s seat.

“Sophie,” he said softly, before turning the ignition. “There’s not enough money in the world that can help you if Judge Reinhold is presiding over your case again.”

“Drive, Pembrook,” I demanded, ignoring his warning. He’ll get me off, I thought.

My house, or I should say, my father’s house, was built a year before I was born, but it had since been newly renovated on the outside as well as the inside so although I may have grown up in the home, it barely resembled anything like it did when I had been small.

It was grotesquely large, sitting on three acres in Beverly Hills, California. It was French Chateau inspired and more than twenty-eight-thousand square feet. I was in the left wing, my parents were in the right. I could go days without seeing them, the only correspondence was out of necessity, usually to inform me that I was required to make a dinner appearance, and that was usually by note delivered by one of the staff. I had a nanny until fourteen, when I fired her for attempting to discipline me. My parents didn’t realize for months and decided I was capable of caring for myself after and never bothered to replace the position.

Freedom is just that. Absolutely no restrictions. I abandoned myself to every whim I felt. Every want I fulfilled and every desire was quenched. I wanted for nothing.

Except attention.

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