Arranged(27)
I couldn’t think of a thing. “Champagne,” I said automatically. It had become my go-to social drink. When in doubt, champagne.
I didn’t sit down, instead hovered right outside the booth. I locked imploring eyes on Chester. “Since no one else showed up, I can leave, right?”
He sighed. “I think they’re going to show. You’re just the first one, but you can do whatever the hell you want, Duchess. Just tell me what that is, and I’ll lead you to it.”
The waitress brought me a drink and I thanked her. I sighed, then took a long sip.
“I’m going over my two drink limit tonight,” I said grimly.
“I don’t blame you,” Chester remarked from somewhere close behind me, then added, “I believe some of your friends have arrived.”
I turned to look. It was an effort not to point out that they weren’t my friends, but I managed to keep the words in.
Millie was striding toward us with three women I’d met at my wedding and two more I didn’t think I’d ever seen before. They all looked like carbon copies of each other with only slight variations.
Like they’d all come from the same intimidating rich girl factory: Same height, same shoe styles, pretty faces, similar black mini dresses. Even their hairstyles were cut into similar bobs, though two had blonde hair, two light brown hair, and two were brunettes, and they all had varying skin tones.
I wondered if they all looked alike on purpose, or if they were just that influenced by each other.
Millie spotted me and gave me a huge smile and wave.
I smiled and waved back shyly. I had no idea if Millie actually wanted to hang out with me, or if she’d just invited me because of my husband, but I strongly suspected the latter.
She gave me a big hug when she drew close, then pulled back and introduced everyone.
I studied each briefly as she went down the line.
“I know you met some of them at your wedding, but you met so many people that day, so I’ll give you a refresher course.” She pointed to the two brunettes, who were standing side by side like they were choreographed by hair color. “That’s Veronica, Camilla.” She pointed to the two light brown-haired girls. “Beatrix, Hadley.” She pointed to the other half of her own blonde pairing. “And that’s Addison. We all went to school together, and we’ve all been friends since we were kids. Me, Hadley, and Veronica are married and all of our husbands are friends with yours. We’re a very tight-knit crew. You’ll fit right in.”
I smiled as politely as I could, but I knew I wouldn’t fit in with them. I would just be happy if I could remember most of their names.
And of course, I was instantly out of place—I was the wrong height, wrong pedigree, wore white while they all wore black— I was flashy instead of tasteful. They were everything I wasn’t, and vice versa, and I felt it keenly, but I was used to hiding that sort of thing. Every ideal is a judge, and insecurity was a monster that my occupation made me battle daily. I’d gotten quite adept at stomping it before it sank its claws too deeply into me.
They all sat down, huddling together in one small corner of the big booth.
I sat down a few feet away. I wanted badly to look at Chester, I don’t know exactly why, perhaps to feel less alone and estranged, but I restrained myself.
Instead I downed the rest of my champagne.
It wasn’t lost on me that I was the only one that had their personal security with them in the club, and I wondered again why my husband and his family insisted on such strict measures.
I wondered, but I wasn’t upset about it. I enjoyed having Chester around. Often he was one of the best parts of my day.
The waitress came strutting up with two bottles of Grey Goose lit with sparklers. She waved them around theatrically while the ladies cheered her on.
I couldn’t help it. I glanced at Chester. We shared an amused look.
Millie asked the waitress to pour us all shots.
I took mine without protest. It seemed like a good night to try a shot, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to these filthy rich princesses that it was my first one.
Worst case scenario: Chester was big and strong enough to carry me out.
I barely choked it down, though it wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting—it was something surprisingly sweet—but it was still more than I was used to.
I looked around. There were several other VIP booths in the large room, but for the most part the place was deserted. “I thought it would be busier,” I remarked.
“It’s not actually open yet,” Millie admitted with a laugh. All of her friends joined her as though they’d been cued. “It opens in a half hour, and this is a private room. The main club is through there.” She pointed across the room.
One of the girls, Addison, I thought I recalled correctly, asked the waitress for another round of shots.
“Oh,” I was surprised. “So we’re not going to the main club. We just stay in here?”
Millie shrugged, laughing again. “We do whatever we want!”
I digested that as I took another shot with the group. This one went down easier. I pointed at the empty glass. “I like these,” I said more loudly than I needed to.
Shit. Was I already drunk?
The group erupted into fresh peals of laughter at my expense. My face stiffened, cheeks reddening.