Page 14 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

“Look at the bright side,” Lenora says, sitting on the edge of the bed, puffing at a lock of her hair, and I look at her expectantly. “You’re back home.”

“I guess, yeah.” While one might think at twenty-one I can do whatever I please and don’t need anyone’s permission for anything, it’s not really true when it comes to the Dawson family, who have connections everywhere.

Until their veto was lifted from my exile, I had no chance of coming back. God knows I’ve tried many times, but anytime I went further and wanted to involve the authorities, Grandmother would call to ask me if I liked psychiatric wards, because one was waiting for me the minute I landed.

She would have totally put me in one to teach me a lesson of obedience, not to mention involving the Dawsons in a scandal.

And ironically, I never doubted her words. I prefer to be called weak and stupid rather than spend the rest of my life in a psychiatric ward with people believing I’ve lost my mind.

When you’re all alone in this world, you have no one but yourself to rely on.

One of the reasons I worked in Greece like crazy, earning money whenever I could and never touched the stupid credit cards they sent my way when I turned seventeen. The only thing they paid for was my education, but even that changed when I got a scholarship for my last year, as I didn’t want to owe them anything.

My gaze travels to the bag, and I lift my chin in its direction. “What’s that?”

She taps her fingers on it. “A little welcome home gift from me.” She must read my confusion, because she rolls her eyes and gets up.

She leans forward, unzips it, and takes out a rich, silver-colored dress, holding it proudly for me to see before exclaiming, “Ta-da!” I just stare at it, and she cocks her head to the side. “Well, don’t just stand there. Say something!”

“You bought a new dress?”

One thing Lenora loves more than her grandfather and me is fashion, her greatest passion and career choice. She got into one of the top universities due to her designs and has big plans of becoming someone famous one day.

“Yeah, I bought a dress and decided to show it to you. Are you crazy?” She shakes the dress in her hand, lifting her other hand up and down over it. “This is for you.”

“For me?” I ask dumbfounded, studying the dress and wondering why I need something so beautiful when I don’t wear dresses and spend my days in shorts sculpting.

The strapless dress is mid-length, probably reaching down to my knees with a full skirt and a narrow waist, as the upper part of it has a bustier. The silver reflects the light, and the silky material almost begs me to touch it.

“For tonight’s party. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she prompts and grins at me. “The minute I spotted it in Frankie’s warehouse, I knew it would be perfect for you.”

It only takes a second for the information to register in my mind. “Frankie, as in Francesca, one of the best new designers in the country?” Or on the way to it—she’s trying to conquer the high-fashion world now while her online store has year-long waitlists.

Lenora nods happily and I groan. “How did you get it? It’s super expensive.” Lenora works two jobs in order to support herself, refusing to let her grandfather help her. The last thing she needs is to give me expensive gifts. “You have to take it back.”

She bursts out laughing, strolling to the hanger on the closet door and hooking the dress there, carefully adjusting it so it doesn’t get wrinkled. “My boss, aka Frankie, gave it to me when I told her about you.”

“Since when do you work for her? Besides, doesn’t she live and work in New York?”

“Since I won an internship with her. She’s awesome. She has a warehouse here too and comes twice a month to check on supplies.”

Taking a deep breath, because sometimes catching Lenora’s train of thought is like pulling a cat by its tail, I ask another question. “Did she rent it to us? We have to give it back by tomorrow?”

“Frankie gave it to you as a fucking gift, Briseis, so just accept it.”

“I don’t need a dress.”

Lenora turns to face me, crossing her arms. “Okay. Do you have a dress for the party, then?” She already knows the answer and gives a brief glance to my still unpacked suitcase. “I bet it’s full of shorts and T-shirts.”

“Grandmother will find me a dress. You know her. She thinks of everything in advance.”

“Give me a break. She will give you—” Whatever she wants to say gets interrupted by a loud knock on the door before one of the maids opens it, bowing her head and saying, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Ms. Dawson. I brought you a dress.”

“Thanks.” I want to take it from her, but Lenora beats me to it, snatching it from the maid who hastily retreats with a nod, carefully closing the door after her.

Lenora opens the cover, and we both blink when the hideous, purple dress comes into view, looking as if someone found it on the side of the road after several cars had driven over it.

I don’t even have to think for long to know who ordered it for me.

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