Page 16 of In Case You Didn't Know

“So,” she says, one brow lifting, “been to any good sex clubs recently?”

For a second, all I can do is blink at her.

She just stands there, cool as hell, like she didn’t light a fuse and toss it in my lap.

And I hate how much I want to laugh.

How fixated I am on her lips, her smile, the way her hair curls down her back. How often I’ve watched her on that security feed, taking in every inch of those curves in that tight dress.

I push off the wall and head for the door without looking back, before I do something I know we’ll both regret.

Let her think I’m pissed. Let her think I’m cold.

It’s safer for both of us that way.

seven

FRANCIE

“Seriously,” I tell Charlie. “I don’t think I should be let out in public.”

One sleepless night, a bucket of humiliation, and the lingering image of Asher’s face after my sex club comment – and I’d rather be anywhere but Liberty Island.

It’s only because Autumn is my best friend that I’m staying here and facing the humiliation I so rightly deserve. Right now I’m in one of the offices in the Grand Liberty Hotel – the hotel that Hudson bought and renovated and Autumn helped decorate – getting ready to show my face at the party in the extensive grounds that stretch down to the ocean.

The second I dropped that sex club line, Asher stared at me like I’d grown antlers and walked out without a word. I stood there, wondering if it was possible to strangle yourself with your own hands, until Autumn came back.

They were the longest five minutes of my life.

“That sex club’s the gift that keeps on giving,” Charlie splutters. “God, never change.”

“Francie, are you in here?” Autumn calls out.

“Gotta go,” I tell Charlie.

“Keep me updated if you say anything else completely inappropriate,” he tells me gleefully.

“I’m taking a vow of silence,” I reply, only half joking. “I’m going to become a Trappist nun.”

“Good luck explaining your sex club visit to them.” He disconnects before I can reply, and Autumn runs in, her face flushed.

“I need your…” She stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Oh, wow. You look amazing.”

I glance down at the costume she chose for me. She’s already in her dress – a pale blue Cinderella costume made of satin, with a tight bodice, heart shaped low neckline, and a skirt that could rival Scarlet O’Hara for its puffiness.

Autumn decided I should be Belle because the yellow gold of the dress matches my tan skin and dark, wavy hair. She was right, damn her.

“That neckline is completely inappropriate. I love it.” She grins, taking in the cut that’s much lower than hers, and the sleeves that are so far off the shoulder they’re halfway down my arms. I’ve never been known for having ample cleavage, but this dress is working overtime. My boobs are halfway to my chin.

But it’s the skirt I love the most. It’s full and floaty, cascading in golden ruffles from my hips to the floor. Not as dramatic as Autumn’s, but it makes me feel like a Disney heroine with a secret.

“Okay,” she says, grabbing my arm. “We need to get this party started.”

For the next hour I’m Autumn’s servant, running this way and that, hiking my skirt up with my hands because rushing around in a full dress is way harder than it looks. I have no idea how Victorian women got anything done. No wonder they spent half their lives fainting.

Guests start to arrive, and Autumn gestures me over. “I need you to keep Mylene busy,” she hisses, somehow managing to still keep a welcoming smile on her lips. “Because Eileen just walked in.”

“I thought Cinderella was the one who got bossed around,” I complain, but I say it lightly, because I’d do anything for her and she knows it.