Page 51 of The Havenport Collection

Prologue

ASTRID

]March

J ust my luck. The day I realized I was in love was also the day I got arrested. When I woke up this morning, I did not expect this day to end with me getting my mug shot taken, but given how my life had been going, it was not a shock.

I was a planner. I carefully examined every decision and its statistical implications before implementing and executing with precision.

Needless to say, I had never imagined getting myself into a situation that culminated in my arrest. On the bright side, I was wearing a gorgeous evening gown and had professional hair and makeup done, so the odds were good it would at least be a decent photo.

I wonder if I could get a copy of it? I could post it to my Instagram.

Getting arrested sucked. And I was pretty sure it would ruin my career and reputation.

But damn, it also felt really good. After years of taking other people’s shit and smiling politely, it felt good to finally fight back a little.

To do what I wanted to do, what I needed to do.

It was about time I reclaimed some of the dignity that had been stolen from me.

And if a criminal record was the consequence, so be it.

The holding cell was pretty gross. There were a bunch of other women in here with me.

Everyone seemed like they were keeping to themselves.

Yes, I was dressed like a beauty queen, but I was also pretty tall, and years of being a lawyer had helped me develop an excellent “don’t fuck with me” face, so I was fine.

I knew I would be bailed out soon. I was only going to get slapped with assault and battery, nothing crazy. Even murderers made bail sometimes.

If anything, the greatest tragedy of the night was the loss of my shoe.

My new friends Christian and Dante had given them to me as a gift, and they were sparkly Louboutin perfection.

A four-inch platform stiletto with a delicate sling back, the toe box was covered with small crystals that created a purple and blue ombre effect.

My toenails were painted a perfect purple to match, and they set off my eggplant gown beautifully.

They were the most perfect shoes I had ever seen.

And now I only had one of them. Apparently, my right shoe was evidence, so the odds of me getting it back were slim.

As I sat in the grimy holding cell, wearing one shoe and waiting to be bailed out, I realized that this had been one of the most memorable days of my life.