Page 114 of Shattered Stars

“You can’t, Rhi. They’re too beautiful.”

“I already have a dress. One Rosa is making me.”

“I hate to shit on my grandma, but her work cannot compete with this.”

“I don’t care. I bet it will look beautiful anyway.”

“Not as beautiful as these. I bet they cost ten times as much as Summer’s. I mean this one – look at the label, Rhi. It’s vintageMona.”

“You know that means nothing to me.”

“They’re priceless. Actually priceless.” Winnie picks up her phone and starts typing, then thrusts the screen my way. “See how much this one went for at auction. I knew Tristan was loaded, but this … I wonder how he even got hold of one.”

“Still don’t care,” I say.

“Well, we may not have a choice. We may have to wear them if that parcel doesn’t arrive from Nonny.”

“I’d rather wear your nightie again,” I say, “or a bedsheet.”

“Rihanna Blackwaters, sometimes you are too stubborn for your own good. You have two other mates who might actually like to see you looking all glammed up and stunningly beautiful. In fact,youmay like them to see you that way. Imagine the sex–”

“Firstly,” I say, wagging my finger at her, “the professor will be on strict teacherly duties and won’t be able to come within twenty feet of me. And secondly, the man in black won’t be coming.”

“Poor you,” Winnie says, with a not-very-sympathetic-looking grin. “I am intending on looking so good that I give Trent a mild aneurysm. That or a boner so intense he has no choice but to fling me over his shoulder and march me to the nearest horizontal surface.”

“Cruel.”

“The sex will be worth it.” She gazes longingly at the green dress, stroking her hand over the bodice. “Are you sure we couldn’t wear these?”

“I don’t want to give Tristan Kennedy any kind of encouragement.” Even though what happened in the classroom was one hundred percent, most definitely, encouragement. Inwardly, I cringe.

“Let’s hope that parcel from Nonny arrives, then.”

My phone beeps as she says the words and she glances eagerly at the phone, obviously hoping it’s a message about another parcel.

“It’s from Stone,” I say, sitting down on my chair and reading the message.

“What does it say?” Winnie asks. My cheeks heat and Winnie’s eyes narrow. “I thought you were no good at the sexting thing.”

“I’m not, but he is. Very good,” I say, reading the message. “Very, very good.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Winnie says, flopping down on her chair. “I bet that man is good at everything.” I can’t argue with that. “Are you going to give me the gist of it or leave me hanging?”

“It seems like you might be right about the looking-forward-to-seeing-me-all-dressed-up-tomorrow-night thing.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh," I say, rubbing my thighs together and rereading the long description about how he’s looking forward to taking any such dress off me, before it disappears. “Oh …”

“Oh?”

“Erm, it also seems you were right about the man in black.”

“Of course I was … which bit?”

“He is coming to the ball. He managed to wangle an invitation on security grounds.”

“Because he doesn’t want to miss out on seeing you, too.”