Page 15 of Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

I stepped into the tiled shower and started the water. Piping hot. I closed the glass door and decided it was safe. I let go of all the unhappiness that took unending residence in my heart and soul and stomach. I sobbed into my hands and let the water wash away the salt. My heart was in a perpetual state of sadness and the only relief I could find were in those cathartic cries. I lived a fragile existence. I knew it even then but feigning I didn’t was easier than embracing something so altogether daunting. If I faced what I’d truly created for myself, a life of debauchery and seedy fulfillment, I knew I couldn’t have lived another day and self-preservation was very much still alive in me. I loved myself too much to say goodbye. So, I would go on living just as I had been because it was the only life I knew.

I bawled for at least half an hour before washing and conditioning my hair and shaving my legs and even then the tears continued, but I had a job to do that night and damn if I was going to have bags underneath my eyes. My dad would faint, or the male equivalent, anyway. I needed sleep.

Life will continue on. Everyone will continue their worship of you. Just keep up appearances. Just keep up.

When I was done and sufficiently under control of my emotions, I shut off the water and stepped onto the heated marble beneath my feet. Reaching for my robe, I wrapped it around my body and grabbed a towel for my hair. I sat at the edge of my vanity in my room and moisturized my entire body with the five-hundred-dollar-an-ounce moisturizer my mother insisted I used.

By then, sleepiness was attempting to claim me. I was too tired to dress in pajamas so I just slipped under the covers donning my robe and the towel still wrapped around my head. Sleep came easily. It always did. It was a true safe haven from the hell I’d created for myself.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

I woke startled to the sound of rapping at my door.

“Miss Price!”

“Come in!” I shouted.

The doors bellowed open and in poured Katy and her entourage.

“Oh, I’d forgotten you were coming,” I told her.

“Thank you. Nice to see you, too,” she teased.

“Just a moment,” I told them.

I relieved myself and brushed my teeth then met them in my room. Peter had already set up his portable massage chair, modified so Katy could do my nails while he did his thing. I almost sat before realizing I’d yet to put undergarments on. I ran to my dressing room and slipped them on before joining them again.

I sat down and Peter started in with the massage. “Any place in particular I need to focus on today, Miss Price?”

“No, Peter. Just the standard.”

“Very well, miss.”

I’d already closed my eyes when I felt Katy at my feet, removing my polish. “And what are you wearing this evening, Miss Price?”

“I’m unsure. Let’s just do a French. That’s all encompassing.”

“Of course.”

Very well, Miss Price. Of course, Miss Price. I very nearly yelled at them to quiet the ridiculous platitudes but checked myself. It’d be good practice for this evening.

When my nails were dry, they sat me in the leather chair stool in my bathroom in front of the mirror. I studied myself, ensuring my skin was still flawless, my hair still long and beautiful, my eyes still shining. I would never have admitted this to anyone, but I panicked if I hadn’t seen a mirror in a few hours, affirming I still had the only thing that made me so adored.

Katy and Gillian worked their magic and within two hours I was plucked, polished, buffed and readied to entertain the only son of Calico, a company I knew nothing about. Shit.

“Peter,” I called out to my room while Katy finished up my hair.

“Yes?”

“Bring my laptop in here, will you?”

I heard shuffling in my bedroom and then Peter entered the bathroom with my computer. I pried open the monitor and put in my password. My father would kill me if I wasn’t schooled on the boy’s father’s company. I Googled Calico.

Ah, plastics. And a durable product at that. In fact, their plastics were damn near indestructible. It made sense my father wanted in. Impervious electronic products would make him unstoppable. Okay, let’s see. Founded by Henry Rokul, married to Harriet Rokul. One child by Harriet named Devon. Devon Rokul is a twenty-year-old Harvard student studying, what else, business. I further Googled Devon Rokul’s picture and stumbled upon his social media. I familiarized myself with Devon’s Twitter updates and almost gagged at how mundane they seemed to be.

Took the dog for a walk today.

Studying for an exam.

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