Real Girl (Aston Creek High 4)

Seeing the dress up close and personal, it’s clear that this trash is costing a lot of money. It’s got only the finest material and quite honestly, I’m kind of scared to touch it. No wonder Maria has been so crazy obsessed with it. This wedding is going to be the event of the year. Everyone will be there. Hell, I’m sure even people I used to go to school with will attend.

It’s going to be humiliating.

Actually, I wonder who’s footing the bill for this sham. Marcus and his millions or Lucien and his? I guess it depends who’s the sneakier bastard out of the two. If I had my guess, Lucien probably would have written it into the fine print of their contract that none of the cost falls on him. Though, I’m sure Marcus didn’t exactly make his money by doing things by the book. In the long run, I guess it doesn’t really matter. When you have that kind of money to blow through, do you even notice shit like this? Though, the way Maria spends maybe they might.

Realizing that Maria isn’t about to let me out of her sight, I start peeling off my clothes, feeling extremely exposed as I’m not exactly wearing any underwear. I was in bed when Lucien took me. I’m just lucky that I at least had sleep shorts and a tank on. If Slade had his way, I probably would have been naked.

He knew not to push me last night, especially after receiving the news of Lucien being in town and nearly watching Roman Westbrock bleed to death on Shay’s living room floor. Turns out that maybe I should have taken advantage of my night with Slade. If I’d known it was our last night together, I would have made it worth it, given him something to remember and compare the others to when he undoubtedly begins to move on.

I stand before her, naked as the day I was born and as I reach for the dress, I feel her judgmental eyes on my body. “You’ve put on weight,” she says in disgust.

“That’s what happens when you’re happy. I’m sure it’s a feeling you’ve never experienced.”

“Watch your mouth, Skylah. You have twelve days left in this house before you have a new home. Let’s make them peaceful as I can assure you, you will not like your other option.”

And what’s that? Is she going to rape me too? For fuck’s sake. I hate these people.

I press my lips into a tight line, not because I’m giving up but because I can’t be fucked to entertain her bullshit. Thinking I’ve surrendered, Maria nods. “That’s what I thought. We’ll have to get a dietician in to sort out that weight. You’ll be down in the home gym with a trainer every day as well. I won’t have you looking pudgy at this wedding.”

I keep quiet, knowing damn well that I won’t be spending my days on the treadmill. In the past few months, I’ve maybe put on two pounds and that’s it. I look fucking good. I always have and I always will. If anything, the two pounds have gone to my tits.

Maria continues her appraisal of my body. “You really did get shot,” she comments with a frown, leaning in to get a better look at the scar. “Marcus isn’t going to approve of a scar. We’ll have to cover it up. I’ll get you a good, waterproof foundation. You’ll have to apply it first thing in the morning before he wakes and again after your shower in case it rubs off. You can’t have your husband thinking he’s getting less than perfect.”

“Well if your husband didn’t shoot me, we wouldn’t be having this issue, would we.”

“How can you even be sure it was Lucien?” she questions, walking around the back of the dress to start loosening the corset. “Did you actually see his face? Do you have evidence?”

“I just know it was him,” I tell her, not prepared to explain exactly what evidence we have, knowing she’s more than capable of making it disappear. “You’re married to a psychopath. He stood over the bridge and shot me.”

She lets out a huff and holds the dress down for me to step into. “It wasn’t him. Lucien wouldn’t do that. He knows what this wedding means to me.”

Fuck, these people are screwed up.

Maria pulls the dress up my body and expertly does up the corset back. My tits are squished and my stomach sucked in as far as it can go, accentuating my waist. If this dress didn’t look like such a joke, I think Slade would even like it.

It feels as though it fits like a glove and after only having it on for a few seconds, it’s clear that after wearing heels with a full face of makeup and a thousand guests, I’m going to be completely exhausted. Then I’ll have to deal with Marcus after that.