All I've Never Wanted(50)

“When you put it that way,” I groused, looking longingly down the hall, though I didn’t know why. My next class was AP Calculus BC, and I hated math.

Adriana looked pleased. “Good. Come on.” She began to walk down the hall towards the double glass doors that led outside.

Venice, at least, didn’t seem to have any hesitation in ditching school as she practically ran after the blonde, obviously thrilled at the idea of being able to miss calculus.

Sighing, I followed them into the backseat of a waiting chauffeured Rolls-Royce.

“Where are we going?” I asked, settling comfortably into the plush leather seat.

“La Maison de la Sérénité,” Adriana answered, putting on a pair of oversize Chanel sunglasses as she named the most expensive and exclusive spa in town.

“Really? My mom loves that place,” Venice exclaimed. Leaning over, she whispered into my ear, “It’ll be good for you, Maya. I heard the masseuses there are amazing.”

I shrugged. “Ok,” I said. My voice was lackluster, but I felt a spark of excitement.

I’ve always wanted to go a spa.

“So what are you going to do about the whole babysitter thing?” Venice asked. I had filled her in on everything during lunch, which I’d taken in the library because I was too tired to deal with the Scions today.

Adriana’s head snapped up. “What babysitting thing?”

I glumly explained my father’s threat to her, and I saw anger flash across her face.

“Seriously? No offense, but that is so hypocritical of him,” she said, sounding annoyed.

“That’s what I said. What can I do?” I slumped down in my seat.

Adriana smirked. “Blackmail him?”

“I’ve thought about it, but I just don’t think I can go through with it,” I said honestly. “It’s not in my personality.”

She laughed. “That’s what I figured. You’re too nice sometimes, Maya.” She paused. “So you need someone to look after you for two weeks, huh?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“Interesting.”

Right. Personally, I don’t see anything interesting about my situation at all.

When we arrived, I couldn’t help but gaze at the sleek, Japanese-style building in awe. It was surrounded by leafy trees and reflecting pools, and exuded an aura of utter serenity, just like its name implied.

In the breezy lobby, which was open on three sides, a slender dark-haired woman clad in all white greeted us with a warm smile.

“Miss Perry, Miss Lindberg, Miss France, please follow me,” she said, leading us down a long hallway.

She showed us all into different rooms, explaining that “Miss Perry” had pre-booked different treatments for the three of us. I had gotten something called the Tahitian Goddess package, with included a manicure, pedicure, facial, body treatment, and 50-minute massage, all in a section of the spa that looked like, well, Tahiti.

Now, I don't consider myself a particularly materialistic person, but I had to admit, this treatment was nice. More than nice. I wondered briefly what it would be like to have so much money, to be able to buy whatever I wanted and go wherever I wanted without a second thought. I immediately dismissed it.

Sure, it'd be nice to have a private jet and weekly spa days and a closet full of Gucci and Prada, but if it meant I had even the slightest chance of turning into a typical Valesca rich-girl clone, then no thank you. I’ll stick to land transportation and H&M like a normal person.

“Which color would you like, Miss Lindberg?” my pedicurist asked kindly, handing me a book filled with literally hundreds of nail colors by OPI, Essie, and Lippmann Collection.

“Whoa, this is a lot,” I murmured, a bit overwhelmed.

Finally, though, I settled for a gorgeous deep burgundy. It seemed appropriate for fall.

By the time I received my Swedish massage, I was admittedly a million times more relaxed and refreshed than before.

Venice was right. The masseuses here were good.

Unfortunately, just as I was about to doze off, a loud knock on the door interrupted the tranquility. A moment later, the door swung open with a bang.

Letting out a surprised scream, I instinctively shot up from the massage table. Oh my god, was the spa being robbed or something?


No. It was much worse.

My jaw dropped when I saw Roman standing there. He was holding a bright pink handbag, for some reason.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” I stuttered.

He didn’t respond, and just stared at me with a rather stunned and embarrassed look on his face, which was flaming red.

I frowned. What reason did he have to be embarrassed?

Then I looked down, and gasped when I realized that I had to take my top off for the massage. Which meant that when I got up, there was nothing covering my torso. Which meant I was currently topless in front of Roman Fiori.

And that was when I really screamed.

* * *

“It was just a huge misunderstanding. My fault, really,” Adriana said, not sounding repentant enough for my liking as she walked up the little stone path that led to my house.

“Can we not talk about it?” I felt like the redness would never fade from my face, which was bad, because then my grandmother was really going to think I’d been up to “kinky stuff.”