Chapter 3
Maya
I hide in a shadowed corner of the ballroom, trying to make myself as invisible as possible.
In my hand is the third wine glass of the evening. I drink it slowly, having absolutely no desire to get intoxicated tonight. Truthfully, I’m only snatching the drinks off the silver trays because I don’t know what else to do with my hands.
Through the corner of my eye, I catch Valeria conversing with a group of wealthy women.
Out of all of them, she is source of the room's gravity—undeniably the prettiest—but the sour look pulling at her features completely diminishes her beauty. Suddenly, she looks right at me. I shiver as the cold fire in her eyes projects across the crowded room, threatening to burn me whole. She’s fucking pissed about the dress.
She couldn’t show it as much as she wanted with Graham standing right there, but now he's mingled into the crowd, and she is hunting me down to turn me into ash.
I’m not God’s strongest soldier. So, yes. I’m running.
Swapping my empty wine glass for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, I turn around, desperately searching for an escape route.
As subtly as I can, I move toward the double doors leading to the terrace.
The entire time, my heart hammers a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I pray she’ll lose sight of me, or get pulled back into a conversation with some bored trophy wife in the crowd.
My luck runs out.
The exact second my heels click onto the tan-colored tiles of the terrace, the air behind me turns freezing. I feel her presence before I even hear her.
She grabs my arm, her manicured fingers digging deep into my flesh as she twirls me around to face her.
Her teeth are bared at me, and I just know I’m going to end up with mascara streaks all over my face by the time this interaction is over.
The difference between her personality when she’s prowling around her husband’s high-society connections and how she treats me is night and day.
Why can’t I be treated with respect like she treats them?
Why can’t she smile at me like she smiles at them?
Why can I never be enough for her?
“Where the fuck did you get that dress from?” she hisses directly into my face, but simultaneously turns her cheek to the side, pretending to give me affectionate air kisses for anyone watching through the glass.
As always, appearances are what she cares about most. The truth is she hadn’t actually kissed or hugged me since I was thirteen years old.
What the fuck am I supposed to tell her? That her husband left it on my bed as a gift? That he wrote me a note telling me I’d look better than her in it in every single universe? She wouldn’t even believe me anyway. It would sound like a delusion.
“A friend gave it to me as a gift,” I lie straight through my teeth, gripping the champagne flute tighter to keep from fidgeting.
She laughs, and her diamond necklace catches the light, almost illuminating the dark night sky. Anyone looking out from the ballroom would think we’re just two loving sisters catching up, but only I know I’m seconds away from being completely gutted by her nasty words.
“Oh my god. I haven’t laughed this much in ages.
You seriously think I’d believe your broke-ass friends got you this?
” Her grip on my arm tightens, turning bruising, and she angles her body to hide it from the crowd inside.
“I’ve been searching for this specific piece for weeks, Maya.
And you expect me to believe it’s a coincidence that you just happened to be wearing it tonight? Are you trying to outshine me?”
Her eyes are completely unhinged. These people may believe she’s sophisticated, but anyone who looks deeper into those perfectly made-up eyes can see it. The demon living inside her. The jealousy that eats her alive.
“What are you talking about, Valeria? You sound insane,” I hiss through my teeth, trying to pull away, but she holds fast.
She laughs again, and this time a little bit of true insanity peeks through. It’s terrifying.
“You’re right. It’s crazy to even think about you outshining me,” she sneers. “You’re just so plain. So untalented. So… boring. You’d never outshine me, no matter how hard you try.”
She snatches the glass of champagne right out of my hand, downing it all in one go.
Valeria hates champagne. But as always, anything she sees me have, she wants.
Anything that belongs to me, she has to consume.
And I know that anger and hatred should be the main things flooding my system right now, but they aren’t.
Instead, all I feel is pity. I pity her because whatever hell is going on inside her mind must be ten times worse than the shit she puts me through.
“You do anything like this again, Maya, and I’ll make you regret it,” she whispers in my ear, wrapping her arms around me in a tight, one-sided hug just in case anyone is looking out the window.
Then, she releases me, strutting back into the ballroom to be her usual charismatic self.
I’m left standing alone in the dark, trying and failing to shake her words off. Boring. Plain. Untalented. You can’t outshine me.
The air suddenly feels thick. Suffocatingly hot.
I turn around slowly. Graham is standing there, holding a crystal glass filled with neat whiskey.
God, it isn't fair how handsome he is. His dark hair is styled back but with a few stray strands falling over his forehead, making him look slightly undone. Dangerous. His pitch-black eyes are fixated on the exact spot on my arm where Valeria’s fingers just bruised me.
I try my hardest to ignore him, like I always try to do. But he instantly crowds my space, lifting his whiskey glass in my direction.
“I don’t want any, thank you,” I mumble, taking a half-step back to put distance between us.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted it, Maya,” he murmurs, taking another step until he’s completely looming over me. He presses the glass to my lips, forcing me to take a sip from his drink, and I try my hardest not to splutter it out at his next words. “The dress is perfection on you.”
His wife is literally standing a few feet away through the glass doors. What is this man doing? Does he fear no one? That’s a mistake. Valeria is something to be feared.
“You shouldn’t have bought it, Graham. If Valeria finds out—”
“Let her find out,” he interrupts, drinking from exactly where my lips touched before setting the whiskey glass down on the stone railing behind me. “You look like a masterpiece. There isn’t a single thing ordinary about you.”
His thumb brushes against the corner of my mouth, the calloused edge of his skin scraping against my skin. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You have a smudge of lipstick right here,” he whispers, pressing his thumb too hard into my bottom lip, parting them slightly.
The touch snaps me out of my trance, my head jerking away from his hand. I whip my head around, looking back at the glass doors. Is she there? Is Valeria standing at the door? Did she see him touch me? The thought of what she would do to me makes my knees buckle.
Graham doesn’t seem to care if she sees. He doesn't care about the consequences at all. He watches my panic with an amused, dark smirk.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he says softly, his breath fanning over my ear. “You don’t have to worry about anything soon.”
Then he leaves, slipping back into the crowd.
Fuck being poor. Fuck the fact that we grew up with absolutely nothing. If I had my own money, I wouldn't be trapped here. I wouldn't be forced to endure this. Poverty is what’s forcing me to live under the same roof as my crazy, abusive sister, and her deeply creepy, terrifyingly handsome husband.
Yet, I have a terrible feeling that the nightmare is only just beginning.