Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Open your bag.”
Swallowing my irritation, I opened my purse for him to look inside. One by one, he pulled out my self-defense key chain, the flashlight, my phone, and since he was already suspicious by then, he uncapped my pens and lipsticks, and found the pepper spray. He crooked a brow, eyeing me over the fake stun phone. “I will have to take these, ma’am. They will be returned to you when you leave.”
“Sure thing.” I slid back onto the driver’s seat. “You’re very good at your job, security man. I hope they pay you well.”
He didn’t reply, but I could’ve sworn I caught a flash of amusement as he returned to the box and buzzed me in. Finally, I set through the maze, riding down the winding path till the trees and hedges cleared.
Burkhardt Manor appeared in all its glory.
Their home was fit for the royalty they called themselves. If you put photos of Saylor’s house and the Palace of Versailles together, you’d point at Saylor’s and go “oohh, look at that fountain of Greek gods, columns shaped like palm trees, and are those windows lined with gold? I want to go there.”
I’d never seen any place so glamorous in my entire life—and I’ve been inside Wilson Manor. It suddenly made sense how the Burkhardts found themselves on the top of this food chain. They weren’t obscenely rich, they were insanely, Thor-damned offensively rich.
As I pulled up to the steps, three men in suits came out of the house. One came down to meet me while the others waited at the top.
“Good evening, Miss Sinclair.” The staffer boasted a pleasant face, neat haircut, and a smile. “If I may, I’ll park your car in the guest lot.”
“There’s a parking lot for guests?”
Why if they never have anyone over?
Stupid rich, Sinclair, a voice reminded. They have one because they can.
“Sure,” I said. He bowed, taking my hand to help me out of the car. “But park it close, I won’t be long.”
He drove off with Lucien’s car, leaving me well and truly with no means of escape other than my two feet.
“Good evening, Miss Sinclair.” The gentleman on the right bowed. “My name is Campbell. This is Sanders.”
Sanders bowed as well. Since everyone was doing it, I grasped my hem, dipping into a curtsey. “Nice to meet you, Campbell. Sanders.”
“If you would follow me,” Campbell said. “Miss Saylor is expecting you.”
It wasn’t a surprise the inside of the mansion was twice as magnificent as outside. Everywhere I looked there was gold trim, gleaming marble, intricate mosaics, stained glass, and golden chandeliers. Sanders bent for me to take my shoes off in his hands.
“Here you are, Miss Sinclair.” He claimed a pair of slippers from an antique wardrobe and placed my wedges inside. A priceless piece, and it was being used as a shoe rack.
“May I get you anything to eat or drink?” Sanders asked.
“Uh, no. Thank you, I’m fine.” My stomach gurgled traitorously.
Sanders didn’t move. “Please, it’s no trouble. Miss Saylor asked the chef to prepare shrimp tartlets, lamb skewers, oysters, stuffed garlic mushrooms, as well as mojitos and sangria for her guests. What would you like?”
I hesitated. They’ve taken my car and my shoes. The next step was a laced drink and I’m waking up in the maze, stumbling around praying I don’t spring a deadly trap.
“The stuffed mushrooms and lamb sounds delicious,” I said. “No alcohol, but I’d love a glass of water, please.”
“Right away.” Another bow, then he headed down a long hallway. Campbell led me through another opening at the back of the grand room. Stopping before massive double doors, he bowed again as he opened it for me.
“Miss Saylor, may I present Miss Sinclair.”
“Thank you, Campbell. That’ll be all.”
I slowly stepped over the threshold, taking in the scene. Saylor was the only person Campbell addressed, but she wasn’t the only one in the sitting room. Saylor, Everleigh, Piper, Gabriella, and Katie stretched out on the chairs, couches, and chaise, watching four women parade across the carpet like a runway—showing off their dresses, skirts, tops, and jewelry.
Saylor sat in the middle of it all, nodding or flapping a hand at the outfits and accessories. Seeing them, the image took hold. A princess with her ladies-in-waiting.
“Lu-Lu.” Katie ran up, air-kissing my cheeks. “What the hell are you doing here? Why would you actually show up?”
“Really?” I hissed. “Because I was wondering what the hell you were doing here. You and Saylor were fit to rip each other’s heads off the other night.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “Grow up. Saylor and I have been friends since preschool. We fight, we make up. That’s how it goes.”
“It goes like that even after she sleeps with your boyfriend and calls you a whore?”
That got me another eye roll. “Dean isn’t my boyfriend. And I called her plenty of shit too. Aww, Lu-Lu, what kind of shallow, pointless friendships do you have that you can’t understand forgiveness?”