Page 45 of Wicked Prince

I feel like such an idiot for thinking Lorenzo was enough of a reason before.

Dinner drags on for an eternity, and by the time it's finally over, I can't get into the car fast enough. Luckily, the driver isn't the chatty type, and he's seen enough that he doesn't even blink in the mirror when I break down in tears almost as soon as we're back on the road.

I think for a second about texting Anthony, but the truth is, I don't want to be comforted right now. And I don't want anyone else knowing what an absolute fool I've been.

The only person in the world who could understand what I'm feeling right now is gone, and even if she wasn’t, I'd have no right to go to her for solace.

Not when I spent most of my life secretly resenting her for doing the same damn thing.

ChapterEighteen

AMELIA

Ican't bring myself to go to class the following morning.

Or the one after that.

It's not just the thought of seeing Lorenzo, even if he's finally taken the hint to stop calling. As irrational as it is, I feel like there's a huge scarlet letter on my forehead. Like the moment I step outside my dorm room, everyone is going to know exactly how much of an idiot I really am.

I still haven't told Anthony, even if I've been fielding his worried texts. I feel bad for telling him I'm sick, even if it's not entirely a lie.

I don't think I've ever felt like shit more than I do right now, even if there's nothing physically wrong with me. As I lay huddled under the blankets with a soap opera I don't follow droning on in the background, all I feel like doing is beating myself over the head with a minute-by-minute replay of that night that couldn't be over soon enough.

Everything keeps echoing back at me.

The kiss.

The toast.

The slap.

The final threat I made in a desperate attempt to put some distance between me and Lorenzo, if only because I don't trust myself to keep it there if I have to face him directly again.

And sooner or later, I will. Once I no longer needed it as a carrot to dangle in front of myself just to get through that awful dinner, the idea of running away became as absurd as it always has been.

I'm still in the same position I was in before. I have no money, no transportation, and nowhere to go. The only difference is that now I have even more reason to want to run, without any additional ability to accomplish that.

I have to get my shit together by Monday. If nothing else, my time alone has given me a plan.

I have to get a job. I'm giving myself the weekend to mope, and then it's nose to the grindstone.

Fuck my classes. It's not like I actually want to be a part of this world anyway, so what's the point of wasting time on homework and studying when it has no practical application to my life?

Since I'm stuck laying in bed, I don't have anything better to do than comb through the online want ads anyway. There's a florist looking for a personal assistant down the road, but that sounds way too intensive and I at least need to be able to attend my classes. Otherwise, it's going to top Dad off that something is wrong.

There's a waitressing job that's about a twenty minute walk from the dorms, which is further than I'd like, but it's far enough away that I doubt I'd risk running into anyone at school. It's a nice restaurant, but not nice enough that the rich kids at Bainbridge or my father's associates are likely to frequent it.

I can just imagine what Kayleigh and her friends would say if any of them caught a glimpse of me serving drinks in an apron. They've probably never worked a day in their lives.

The pay is primarily through tips, so that's good. I have faith in my ability to bite my tongue and act charming for a few hours a night. After all, I've managed to get through two family dinners relatively intact. I've practically been training for it, and the customers can't be any worse than mobsters.

There's no formal application process as far as I can tell, just a number to text, so I do. Not five minutes later, I get a reply.

Can you come in for an interview tonight?

Well, that was fast.

Sure. What time?

---