Page 63

LIA

I socialized like a debutante.

Everyone wanted a piece of me and I was inclined to let them feed.

I touched base with CEOs and CFOs of other companies, I made Trevia dance with me, I mugged for selfies with other women of my own age, and generally had a blast doing it, inside and out.

Because after tonight I knew I’d be free.

It was the moment I’d longed for, ever since I’d turned thirteen—once I realized that freedom could even be an option.

And now, here I was on the eve of it, running away with the man I loved, just like I’d always wanted.

Proving myself and taking over Corvo would’ve been lovely, too—but there was no way to rewire what my father thought of me, not without bathing myself in my past victimhood, a tarpit from which I’d just gotten loose—and after encountering Freddie Sr tonight?

Fuck him.

Fuck my past.

And fuck Corvo.

Fuck everybody —except the magnificent man who was in love with me.

I watched the clock tick down—I even danced with my father again—knowing it might be the last time we saw each other—and then I left at midnight, pulling a reverse Cinderella, practically running for the elevator lobby, because I already knew who my prince was.

The only problem was, someone was sitting there, waiting for me.

Marcus.

He glanced up when I arrived. “Miss Ferreo.”

“Mister St. Clair,” I said, with a head tilt, before looking around to make sure no one was watching us—that I wasn’t about to be punked.

“I bought a gift for you, for tonight,” he said, standing up. “Before last night,” he added, then gave a short laugh.

“I’m sorry you had to find out about your son’s drug use like that,” I said, without a hint of emotion: like I was repeating letters at a spelling bee. “I understand how painful it can be to have secrets exposed.”

He pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small velvet case. “Consider this a consolation prize, for the end of our engagement,” he said, opening it up to reveal a necklace with a large teardrop shaped emerald pendant inside. He picked it up and it swung out at me. “You should put it on.”

I frowned and backed up. “Red and green?” I said, flicking the line of my dress with a hand. “Too Christmasy.”

“Well—it’s yours,” he went on, settling it back in the box.

“I don’t want it,” I said, shaking my head. “And—I’ll have my engagement ring sent back to you tomorrow morning.”

“I insist,” he said, offering the velvet box again.

“And I don’t care,” I said. But then a burst of party attendees stumbled out, hitting the elevator buttons too.

“Just take the goddamned jewelry,” Marcus growled—and people were starting to look over.

I wanted to tell him to shove the box up his own ass—but I’d promised Trevia—and I could make it for another two hours, I was certain.

Now that I knew that everything had an end.

“Fine,” I snapped, grabbing it, and throwing it into my purse.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

The elevator arrived. I got on with a crowd of other people, as Marcus stayed behind.

And just like that—I was free.