The Glass Goddess: MARA LANDS, #1

By Rosana Rainhart

To be speechless, trapped without rights to her own life, forced Fiora to bury herself deep within – where her mother's abandonment and her father's ownership couldn't touch her. The incessant need to claw at the world and allow the violence within her blood to be freed painstakingly held at bay. Then the man she thought to be the enemy arrives with a smirk…

 

He's the head of the Tavares family ruling Radland, harbouring only a dark void within his chest – allowing his savagery to reign freely. But the world around Rawler was changing. The Varga family encroached on his territory, politicians and law enforcement put up roadblocks everywhere, and the vermin called traitors infiltrated the family. Then she created a desperation within his darkness – making the void ripple…

 

His powerful darkness seeks her violent light. 

Her violent nature seeks his powerful strength.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deering Publications
• Release date: Sep 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9789198821840

Book preview

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Copyright ©2023 by Rosana Rainhart

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form

or by any electronic or mechanical means, including but

not limited to information storage and retrieval systems,

without written permission from the publisher or author,

except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

Apart from those clearly in the public domain,

all characters and events are fictitious and any resemblance

to real persons – living or dead - is purely coincidental.

Base photo and title graphic for cover by

Aphrodite-Anastasia Menegaki Photography

Interior illustrations drawn by Reineke Fox at Reinekefoxart

Published by Deering Publications

ISBN: 978-91-988218-4-0

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For all who are

surviving behind walls

constructed by others,

you deserve to be free.

MARA LANDS SERIES

The Glass Goddess

The Heartless Mobster

The Devious Puppeteer

PLAYLIST

Madness – Ruelle

Pass The Knife - No/Me

I Fell in Love - Ask Embla

You Can Run - Adam Jones

I'm A Wanted Man - Royal Deluxe

Wicked Game - Ursine Vulpine, Annaca

I Have the Power - All Good Things, Phil X

War of Hearts (Acoustic Version) - Ruelle

Be Careful What You Wish For - Nine One One

One Way Or Another - Until The Ribbon Breaks

Couldn't Stop Caring - The Spiritual Machines

Take It Out On Me - Thousand Foot Krutch

Let It Go - Chandler Leighton, Lø Spirit

Hide and Seek - Klergy, Mindy Jones

Prisoner - Raphael Lake, et al.

Painkiller - Three Days Grace

Darkness Inside - Astyria

In My Bones - The Score

Toxic - Sofia Karlberg

DARKSIDE - Neoni

YOU MAY WANT TO KNOW

This is a dark mobster romance with on-page sexual

and gory scenes intended for an adult audience.

This book features dark elements, questionable morals, unlawful acts and harmful/violent behaviours that may be disturbing for some readers. The author advises you to visit their website at www.rosanarainhart.com/content-index for a fully disclosed list of tropes, topics and themes contained within this book.

Contents

Prologue

1.FIORA

2.FIORA

3.RAWLER

4.FIORA

5.FIORA

6.RAWLER

7.RAWLER

8.FIORA

9.FIORA

10.RAWLER

11.FIORA

12.RAWLER

13.RAWLER

14.FIORA

15.RAWLER

16.FIORA

17.FIORA

18.RAWLER

19.FIORA

20.RAWLER

21.FIORA

22.RAWLER

23.FIORA

24.RAWLER

25.FIORA

26.RAWLER

27.RAWLER

28.FIORA

29.FIORA

30.RAWLER

31.FIORA

32.RAWLER

33.FIORA

34.RAWLER

35.FIORA

36.FIORA

37.RAWLER

38.FIORA

39.RAWLER

40.FIORA

41.FIORA

42.RAWLER

43.FIORA

44.RAWLER

45.FIORA

THANK YOU

ABOUT ROSANA RAINHART

FIND ROSANA RAINHART ONLINE

BOOKS BY ROSANA RAINHART

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Prologue

FIORA

Thorn stood tall and proud, a magnificent building begging you to enter — to come play with fire. Luxurious, raving, dangerous fire ready to burn each sliver of visible skin to the beating rhythm of intoxicating music.

Goosebumps travelled along my arms — the smell of saltwater mixing with late summer air — as my eyes followed the sleek building all the way to the dark, starless sky above.

Fio, we shouldn’t do this, Becca mumbled while we stood on the sidewalk, watching the nightclub across the street with its blacked-out windows and bright neon sign casting its purple light out like a summoning beacon for those seeking a thrilling night.

There’s lots of things we shouldn’t do, I said, seemingly carelessly, without taking my eyes off the door leading inside. A hurt rage burned within me. But I’m done playing puppet.

Becca grabbed my bare arm with her short fingers decked out in intricate silver rings studded with little gems that spoke of wealth in a subdued way — a classy way. Her beautiful brown eyes looked up at me as I turned to smile at her, determined to get her inside with me even if deep down I knew that this, at the core of it, was a terrible idea. A terrible idea fueled by the bottled anger thrumming and humming in my veins, behind my walls, within them.

As my eyes moved down to Becca, they first latched onto her silky curls, perfectly arranged and styled. She was positively gorgeous; a plump and short jiggling pudding one could squeeze in utmost comfort with the longest black locks of hair and the most beautiful olive skin. My too-pale, long, pear-shaped body made for a stark comparison. I did, however, have black hair courtesy of home dye, unlike Becca’s natural hair which her mom refused to cut short or allow any dye to touch.

Sure, I had legs that went on forever and could match any man when I wore heels — which I did at all times when shoes were necessary — but I could never find any clothes that fit, always being visible wherever I went with my five-foot ten-inch frame usually elevated further by five-inch heels or higher, and someone always threw the wow, you’re so tall comment my way. After twenty-four years on this earth, eleven of them being this godforsaken height, I’d heard most of those remarks.

Fio, please, Becca pleaded and tugged at my shimmery mini dress of mossy green velvet, right by my hip, nearly pinching my love handle with her acrylic nails.

No, I’m doing this.

But it’s Tavares territory. If anyone recognises us—

I know that, Becs. That’s the fucking point. I want the thrill of fucking over Dad, milling around with the enemy, in secret. Just for me. But I’m dragging you into far more danger than I should. Maybe your dad is right about me being a bad influence… I certainly don’t fit into his polished world. I don’t fit anywhere.

Becca sighed and glanced toward the nightclub, my own eyes followed the motion. I really wanted to get in there, mill around right under their unknowing noses, and take my life into my own two hands. For once have the upper hand, have something they had no idea about, that they couldn’t control.

Okay, fine, but you’re paying. Becca sighed while looking up at me with some form of goading while she crossed her arms beneath her impressive tits. It pulled me out of the encroaching thoughts about my life not being mine, or of any value — even to those who should have loved me unconditionally from birth. Interrupted the hurt that bared its gleaming talons every time I let my guard down for even a second.

Obviously. When do I not pay? I scoffed, taking the bait to play along.

"You never pay! Even everything you’re wearing I bought for you!" she laughed and we both beamed at each other, dull green eyes meeting sparkling brown ones for a second.

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Chapter one

FIORA

We crossed the street and sashayed up to the bouncer at the door, a huge man with nearly black skin and shoulders broader than the entryway’s frame. He appeared to be built of brute strength rather than anything defined. He didn’t fit the stencil in my head for bouncers, though. He appeared to be… more . I couldn’t quite put my finger on the intriguing quality but he was too aware, too present, yet seamlessly blended in despite his large form.

Ladies, he said, greeting us with a strangely soft, nearly humming voice that seriously mismatched his intimidating looks. It caught me off guard for a second, and I couldn’t hide the scrunching of my darkly drawn eyebrows.

He looked at me for a mere blink of time before his eyes landed on Becca, though, far below both of us with her five-foot three-inch height slightly elevated by three-inch heels, and there his eyes stayed, so it didn’t really matter what expression slipped across my face.

Hi there, big man, Becca said sweetly, blushing beneath his gaze. Even if I couldn’t tell in the dim light with her darker skin covered in an artfully drawn mask of makeup, her body language gave her away. We’d like to get in, please.

It’s invitation only, he hummed shortly — but not dismissively.

That’s not what I heard. Becca beamed sweetly at the brute peering down on her while she spoke in a slightly pitched voice, betraying her in my ears.

Is that so?

Becca nodded so that her curly hair bounced around her sweet, rounded face. It made me drag my fingers through my own straight strands, slightly jealous of her volume in all places. She was a big girl, and it seemed like no man on earth was safe from her charm — especially with her publicly bubbly personality.

Becca held out her hand with a wad of cash that could easily have fed a family of four for a week in it, smiling the whole time. And we promise to be good, super promise! she continued as if there hadn’t been any pause while I remained quiet with as sweet a smile as I could conjure. Sweetness wasn’t really something that existed naturally within me, it never had. Not even as a child as far as I could remember.

Watching her work her endearing charm on the man whose shoulders had already softened a tad was nothing new. Becca was perfect, with all her self-proclaimed imperfections, and men spared little means to get to her — for good or bad.

I doubt a politician’s daughter can behave, he said, and Becca giggled, a nervous tic of hers everyone took as a sweet behaviour showing shyness.

Of course he’d know who she was. Her face was everywhere, and her father used her rigorously in his campaigns. Is this already over then? No, there has to be something I can—

If she doesn’t, her dad would take her credit card, I intervened while pulling an innocent look, even tilting my head to kick up the innocence an extra notch while I circled my hands around her arm gently.

Ah, that is quite the incentive, the man hummed and Becca did her thing once more, blubbering something about not surviving without her credit card and that she would die if she couldn’t go shopping every day so she would absolutely behave and then, we were in, courtesy of some white lies and me innocuously pushing Becca a little closer to the bouncer with my hands around her arm and my hip pressed into her waist.

Works every time, I said, giggling by Becca’s ear as the door closed behind us, even if guilt had begun to trickle into my blood.

I was seriously putting her in danger here. After shaking off her bodyguard to come and meet me, I had not only gotten her to leave well-paid security behind but to also step into a den of vipers without any antidote on hand.

I still think this is a bad idea. Becca sighed as she looked ahead while nibbling her plump bottom lip.

We were in a long, maroon-coloured corridor leading to a black door up ahead. The faint thrumming of music came through it. A tingle of excitement skidded along my spine, chasing the guilt away ever so slightly at the utter idiocy of it all.

Even if Becca hadn’t been Senator Alfonso Silvano’s daughter, or I the daughter of a man with nearly half a million in debt to the mob whose establishment we had entered, it was not a good idea to party in a mob club. Many didn’t even know it to be a mob-owned club, though. After all, how many ordinary people were in the loop on that stuff, realistically speaking?

Let’s go. This will be great! I smirked and grabbed Becca’s hand before tugging and pulling her along, our heels clicking and clacking against the tiled flooring — as if they were in cahoots with the club to hurry us on in.

She held onto me tightly. I grabbed the golden handle and looked down at her, determined to make the whole thing worth it at the end of the night.

Nighttime raving, I said with a raised brow.

Daylight staging, she finished.

I pushed the door open with a smile. A thumping wave encompassed us completely in one swoop of tingling vibrations as we lingered in the dark hallway that seemed to make the view all the grandeur in contrast.

Wow...

I couldn’t keep my eyes from widening, or my lips from parting, as I looked inside the massive club with surprised awe.

Holy shit, Becca said beside me, barely audible above the pounding music pressing its way through our bodies.

We went inside and the door fell shut behind us. We were in enemy territory and it. was. glorious.

From the three-story high roof over the dance floor, to the stainless-steel bar covering the entire right wall backed by mirrors duplicating the laser lights moving all over the place in deep purples and sharp whites, to the luxuriously edgy feel to every single detail, we were in nightclub heaven.

Becca hooked her arm in mine, and we walked right in, trying to look as if we absolutely belonged there. This night was only for us to know about though. Even if the bouncer had recognised her immediately, a chance remained that we’d get a night of freedom out of it all, in the darkness that hid some of our features until the laser lights hit us for a split second from time to time.

It would be one of many secrets we kept within our hearts. My own pounded. It hammered so hard behind my ribs I worried it was visible even in the dim light.

I had done stupid things, but this? It topped the list of idiotic experiences. Did I go too far? I glanced down at Becca, knowing she was only there because of me. Her father’s words, words not meant for my ears, rang through my head as guilt tied my stomach in a knot. He’d called me a deadbeat gambler’s offspring with a parking garage between her legs — as if I weren’t a worthy human, or even his daughter’s best friend. It made my teeth grit despite my efforts to control myself.

Becca hadn’t known I’d heard the phone call a year ago between the two. I intended to keep it that way. There was no reason for me to dispute the senator’s claims when both Becca and I knew half to be false. I understood why he thought it, and I had been called all things between princess and whore throughout my life. A parking garage only landed around the middle. The world of men, every man a self-serving judge, but never judging themselves. Fucking hypocrisy.

That wasn’t what got to me, though. The insinuation of me being no good for his daughter had been the hurtful part and fuelled my own worry about what Becca got up to with me, even if nothing bad had ever actually happened when we were together. Is that why I’m pushing it?

Let’s get a drink, and a damn shot, I called over the music and Becca nodded eagerly, clearly in need of some liquid courage while I needed to placate the gnawing of my conscience and the slicing of past memories’ rusty blades.

I easily waved down the bartender, a petite blonde looking to be around her late thirties and having barely any clothes on yet looking absolutely stylish. Being so visible with my height made it easy to get her attention.

Hey girls! she said with a smile. What can I get you?

Two bone-dry martinis, and two shots of Three Wise Wen. Make them Wild Turkey and straight, I said somewhat firmly and the blonde looked at me, a little perplexed for a second, but then she beamed.

Girl, you know your shots! Comin’ right up! she called with joy and got to mixing.

My eyes never left the drinks, and neither did Becca’s. We knew it only took one second for something to go massively wrong. She’d experienced it when partying with her father’s political friends’ daughters abroad a while ago and it had only made us even more cautious.

I shivered as I remembered her slurred call. I’d been able to do jack-shit to help her. Fortunately, the bodyguard, who she’d shaken the tail of today, had been right there that time — like always if Becca didn’t manage to give him the slip.

Here you go, the bartender said and slid over the drinks along with a credit card reader. Becca swiped her card and we were good to go.

First downing! I laughed while grabbing the whiskey shot and placing my hand flat over the martini to cover it at the packed bar. Becca did the same. We clinked glasses and down it went — with fire and searing heat erupting in my throat. Fuck, that’s good and needed. My head spun off in too many directions. It had been going on all day and I honestly wanted to devour another shot right away to just make it shut up.

We slammed down the glasses. The bartender beamed at us while her eyes jumped up and down between our faces.

Have a great evening, ladies! If you head up three floors the view is spectacular, she said with a wink and handed over two bracelets in neon purple that severely clashed with my green dress and Becca’s red one. We slipped them on either way, the words "Top Thorn 11″ in white across them.

Wanna go right away? Becca asked as we moved toward the edge of the dance floor, where a staircase following the rounded shape of the edge of the dance floor stood, built of stainless steel and glass. I shivered thinking about going up all the way, even worse so when thinking about having to go down.

I looked around, taking in the dancing bodies, the swaying hips and raised hands. I wanted to dance, to squeeze in between bodies and lose myself to the thumping music that already vibrated through my body, but I knew Becca needed at least two more drinks in her before she’d let loose and dared to move that gorgeous body of hers — all luscious curves which she frequently claimed lived their own lives when she moved. I didn’t see it that way, though. She could dance, as could I.

Up we go, I said as I took her hand and pulled her behind me, squeezing between groups and singles to get to the staircase.

We moved up quickly. It was always better to do things that scared you as fast as possible, and the view was already fantastic like the bartender had said. We could see the entire dance floor being merely one floor up.

Holy shit, it’s big, Becca exhaled and moved closer to the edge, only safe from falling by a thin-looking glass barrier. I held back. Heights were not my thing. Uh-uh, so not my thing.

I sipped my drink as my eyes scanned the surrounding area with a smaller bar and standing tables filled with people chatting, flirting, and laughing. Some swayed to the music, too. I understood why. A sort of sensual techno I’d never heard before permeated the club. It made me want to move, too.

Come on, I said as I saw the next set of stairs a few feet away, even though I’d rather have remained on the ground floor. Becca wanted to go up, and I did too — for completely different reasons. She wanted the view and I wanted the knowledge of having gone all the way in enemy territory.

A guard stood by the stairs. He glanced at us and as his eyes caught the bands on our wrists, he stepped aside. Did we get lucky with the bartender?

Ladies, he said with a nod, and we smiled at him.

The whiskey started to do its thing. My gut heated and a sort of gentle calmness clashing with my fear of heights coursed through my veins as we moved up the second set of stairs. I kept to the side, not looking down toward the dance floor, as we climbed ever higher while my legs became less steady beneath me — and not because of the heels or alcohol.

Yet another bar met us — more standing tables and a few couches for lounging with sleek glass tables framed with steel, too. The music remained loud but in a less intrusive way. One could nearly hold a normal conversation. But who would ever want that in a club like Thorn?

How big is this place? Becca asked as she pulled me toward the damn edge again. I dug my heels in and she released my hand with a wink.

Becca, don’t! I called out as she leaned over the damn railing while on her tippy toes, her tits hanging over the edge and her ass nearly on display as her red mini dress rode up. My heart leapt toward my throat, and I took an involuntary step forward that sent invisible goosebumps along my legs while my hand hardened around the glass in my hand.

It’s amazing, she said over her shoulder with a smile so wide I had to roll my eyes at her, but I also smiled. She was adorable every time she saw something new she found impressive.

Becca was hard to impress, having seen so much while being charted around in private jets and whatnot, but she still had that weakness for new views that allowed her to get impressed. I, on the other hand, rarely got impressed at all. You’d have to have some sort of joy about the world to get impressed, I think, and I wasn’t sure I’d held that in a very long time.

Sure, I should have felt some kind of continuous awe for the hottest nightclub in Kaine Bay given its reputation and looks. But it was just a club, a place to dance and have alcohol while disappearing into a mass of people rubbing against each other. It was cool, grand, and forbidden, but was I impressed? No. Excited? Hell yeah. Caught off guard when we entered? Absolutely.

I sipped on my martini five steps back while Becca took in the view with her own drink in hand. Her foot tapped a little, and my lips tugged up. She already started to relax. I began to lose the infernal thoughts of my impending loss of freedom that had been gnawing at me all day, too, as the music invaded from outside and the alcohol from within.

Becs, come on, I said and began to walk toward the third set of stairs partitioned with a purple rope and a guard on each side. She caught up with me, sipping her drink and looking around at the space and people, another habit of hers courtesy of her father and upbringing. To always see who’s around, who to greet, who to smile at or strike up a conversation with. I didn’t think she was even aware she did it at that point.

I, however, was fully aware of my eyes roaming all around. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but it had been too easy to get into the club and even easier to get access to obviously exclusive floors. Life, as I knew it, wasn’t easy or cost free. Everything had a price attached to it, including me.

She said the third floor, right? I asked.

Becca nodded and we came to a halt by the rope.

Two sets of blue eyes glared at us until their inspecting gazes came to our wrists. Number? the man with snake-like tattoos at the base of his throat asked.

Number? I asked, scrunching my eyebrows.

On your wrist, the other guard said. His bored expression annoyed me, but at least neither of them glared at us any longer. Besides, it was a little nice that they actually had to look up at me — losing some slice of their intimidation game.

Eleven, I said after glancing down. The first guard jotted something down on a clipboard he’d grabbed from behind him.

Go ahead, the other one said and unhooked the rope to let us pass.

This feels… odd. Either way, I grabbed Becca and pulled her along with me as her eyes had gotten stuck on the bigger of the men.

Thank you, she said to them with a wide smile and that nervous giggle in her voice again. I rolled my eyes and pulled her along a bit harder, struggling not to look down or to the side. It was too damn high, but no way in hell was I going to let the irrational fear of plummeting to my death keep me from going all the way up. I was dead either way. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually the consequences of my dad’s actions would come knocking at our door and I would be the one to answer.

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Chapter two

FIORA

We got all the way up in a rush — I couldn’t slow down. My heart raced and my pulse roared within my ears. Turns out, it was worth the anxiety.

An exquisite bar dressed in dark wood and golden details sat at the back. Booths of the same wood with seats dressed in purple leather lined the edge with a few standing tables sprinkled about. The light was dim and intimate while the music was muted and perfect for private conversations. I swivelled my head to take it all in.

At the furthest right side was a set of five blacked-out, mirrored doors — matching the wall of the same material — perfectly placed, expanding the floor while piquing one’s interest yet firmly telling everyone they were excluded. Things like that always got the wanting, spoiled, self-proclaimed deservers of higher society to dig out their wallets and do damn near anything to get the feeling of being above others. I was honestly just curious to see if there were poles in there or not, as I hadn’t seen a single pole or pole-like feature in the entire club.

This is amazing, Becca breathed out while she tugged me forward, pulling me out of my thoughts.

The edge here, on the top floor, had a wood-clad half wall. It appeared far more secure, but my entire body still protested, getting me to halt before I could see all the way down. I stayed a few steps behind as Becca leaned forward with the widest grin while my jaw tensed.

I polished off my martini and sat the glass down on one of the standing tables to my right before rummaging around in my little black purse for my phone.

Becca, I said, and as she turned I snapped a picture, capturing her genuine smile a second before her trained photography face took over — probably by instinct.

Gorgeous, I said and showed her the picture I would promptly put in my Becs folder. She nodded, but I knew she didn’t agree. Her eyes told me everything I needed to know about her thoughts on her appearance.

I knew who was at fault, too, and it wasn’t society to start with. Mrs Isabella Silvano, Becca’s stunning mom, started it all when Becca was a mere fucking baby with restrictive diets and forced exercise. Who even does that to a baby? A little child? I couldn’t understand it. They were wealthy, had food available — even chefs — and still, Becca hadn’t been allowed to eat any tasty treats or hearty meals even if they’d had every damn chance to make them healthy.

At least my mom gave me what I wanted to eat, when we could afford it. Maybe that isn’t ideal either but... The thought made me shiver as I remembered the super thin pancakes she used to make for my birthday breakfast. She’d turn them into a cake, with yam, sugar, and little pieces of grated white chocolate between. A pancake-cake.

But then you left me.

I hadn’t had pancakes ever since.

I’ll get us another drink, I said while shoving down my phone. Becca dug out her card, handing it to me with a sparkle in her eyes from the alcohol.

I sashayed up to the bar, feeling warm and slightly eased as adrenaline pumped through me, flushing my system with alcohol faster than usual. We were at the top of Thorn, effectively having infiltrated enemy territory without anyone ever having to know (already too late for Becca in that regard, though). Knowing one of my dad’s enemies had me in their den — without either of the two sides knowing — thrilled me. I almost felt alive.

When one had no rights, no chance at claiming one’s own life and to do with it as one wished, a certain satisfaction lay in rebellion one couldn’t get in any other way. Why I did such things in secret was rather simple, while also being the most infuriatingly complex feeling I wished to carve out of my heart and drown in chlorine.

I loved my dad, and I was nothing to him but a bargaining chip. I loved my mom, and she had abandoned me with the man who nearly killed her with his gambling and drinking. I hated myself for loving them, yet I couldn’t sever the feeling so natural between a child and their parents. Love has no right. No. Fucking. Right.

I smirked to myself, in an effort to wipe out the anger that crept along my features, and flipped away my hair, coloured pitch black to erase any trace of the strawberry blonde my dad sported. My green eyes I could do nothing about, never being brave enough to put contacts in. How people managed to do that every day I couldn’t fathom. If I’d been brave enough, though, I’d chosen the darkest brown possible. Maybe even black for the hell of it.

Good evening, the bartender, decked out in suit pants and a white shirt, said with a warm smile as I reached my destination. I smiled right back as I leaned against the high bar, for once not having to bend too much despite being almost six-foot-three in my heels.

Hi there. Could I have a Black Russian? But hold the ice, I quickly added at the end and the bartender nodded, and a Piña Colada with three lemon slices, I continued. The slender young man, possibly the same age as me, smiled and nodded.

I kept my eyes on him as he made our drinks and paid with Becca’s card before grabbing the glasses and heading back to Becca who’d taken a free booth toward the right, closer to the doors that intrigued me than the hellish stairs we’d arrived from.

Piña Colada for the gorgeous lady, I said with a flair, and she giggled happily before fluttering her eyelashes at me. And a real drink for the tall one, I joked and winked at her before sliding into the booth, staying on the outer edge, as far away from the half-wall on the other side as humanly possible while still sitting down somewhat comfortably.

We sipped our drinks, and Becca enjoyed the view while I tried to shut off my brain. The alcohol both helped and didn’t. It acted like a liquefier within me, working to dissolve the walls which held the past and the pain at bay from my heart while also suppressing sensations and feelings with its buzz.

I’m getting married next year, Becca said flatly while I choked on my drink, coughing roughly until my throat cleared while my eyes bulged.

You— what?! She turned her face toward me and nodded solemnly, the sparkle in her eyes all but gone.

Daddy said it’s time.

Who?

Becca shrugged, stabbing her drink with the black straw. Dunno, some rich aristocrat’s son from Waylaine.

Bullshit, I said, deflating in my seat. I hadn’t been prepared for that turn of events.

Becca shook her head, her shoulders slumped while my chest grew heavy. Daddy said he’s well educated and running a successful business, owning several estates, too, over there and in Mountain Valley.

Mountain Valley? Wow, that’s expensive.

Do you get your own credit card? I asked with humour in my voice while leaning forward. Becca chuckled and looked up at me, her eyes grateful for my attempt at lightening the mood, and nodded. Well, there you go then. Spend all his money and enjoy it.

Oh, I will. She smirked, but that nervous giggle of hers came after. My heart ached deeply for my best friend who was a romantic to the core. I knew all she wanted was love in life. She got spoiled and treated like a princess, but her family had no love for her as a person — only as a decoration to boast about with her straight A’s, higher education, and all the charity work one could possibly fit into a life.

Okay, no, this will not do, I declared as I straightened and promptly chugged my whole drink, slamming the glass down and jutting my chin out toward Becca. She followed my lead and downed her own drink.

We, my gorgeous friend, are going to dance our asses off. Let’s go, we’ll turn heads and never let them get close.

Grinding time? she asked while wiggling her eyebrows and I laughed freely, throwing my head back on pure instinct as the laughter coursed through me unhindered in the dim, private atmosphere of the top floor.

"Let’s do