Elegant Sins (Dark Secret Society 1)

She shrugged, but her eyes remained downcast. “We have to do what we have to do.”

“Why?” I asked. “I’ve never asked you why you’re doing this Initiation. Is it just because of money?”

For some reason, I didn’t believe it was. There was something in Grace’s determination that made me believe there was a much larger purpose for her decision to be a belle of the Order.

“You’ve never been poor,” she said as she stared directly in my eyes for the first time since leaving the ballroom. “You have no idea what it’s like feeling strangled with the fear of not knowing if you’ll have enough money to eat, or to have shelter or to”—she threw her hands up—“just to live. There’s a constant feeling of hopelessness that you have to fight daily. You live your day to day out of need rather than desire.

“I don’t wake up happy.” There was vulnerability in her voice as she said it and I wondered if she’d ever admitted it to anyone else out loud. “I never end my day feeling that I had a good day. I’m tired. I’m beaten. I’m just going through the motions of a life I haven’t wanted for a while now. And yes, I know that I can work hard and get out of the cycle, but it’s not easy. And lately, every time I’ve tried, I just get knocked back down to where I started.”

She let out a loud breath like it was a weight off her chest to confess it all to me.

“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know what that feels like.”

“Do you judge me for it?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. I can’t judge you for doing the exact same thing I’m doing. No one knows our stories or our intentions but ourselves.”

“But do you think I’m a prostitute?” she asked, and the way her voice cracked while asking told me that she worried I did.

“No.” I took a step toward her. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

She shook her head slowly, though I could read in the narrowing of her eyes that she was thinking about my question. “No. Not at all.”

“So, then we are both in agreement. We are doing what we have to do for our own reasons. You may be poor, and I may be rich, but we still have reasons that force our hand.”

She nodded. “I’ve always been poor and had to struggle, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have dreams. Big, big dreams. I want the fairytale just like anyone else.”

She lifted her arms and motioned around the room. “I want wealth and comfort too. But I wasn’t born with it. If I want this kind of life, then I have to make tough decisions to make it happen.” Her eyes narrowed as if she were working through everything on the spot.

“Do I want to go through with this Initiation? Hell no. But at the same time, do I want to go back to waitressing at a crap diner in a crap town? Every day I’d watch my dreams slip further and further away with every dollar tip I may or may not get. No.”

She shrugged, her eyes still distant. “Was tonight hard? Yes. But I’ll do it again if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to reach my dream. Because as much as I want to be Cinderella, there is no Prince Charming who is going to come and rescue me. I have to save myself.”

So, she wasn’t over-romanticizing this and seeing me as her Prince Charming. Good. But every word out of her mouth only had me more intrigued. “What is it you want when this is all over?”

“The same as you,” she answered. She stretched her neck like she was getting the kinks out. It was a very natural gesture, but it only emphasized the delicate, feminine slope of her shoulder and throat.

“I want a business to run. I want power. I want money that I earn on my own terms. I want to be the one who decides my fate rather than be at the mercy of some shithead boss. I want to be in control of my destiny and build a legacy of my own. I want to be able to show off my intelligence and be respected.”

“Well, you’ve managed the last part of that already,” I said with a smile. “I see how intelligent you are, and I most certainly respect you. I can see how strong you are. I see your purpose in those green eyes of yours. But I can understand why you want more.”

She walked toward the fireplace and stood before it, staring at the empty space where a fire would burn if it weren’t such a sticky, hot night.

“I feel dirty though,” she admitted in a faint voice. “I don’t even think showering will take this away.” She sighed deeply. “I know why I’m doing this. I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come before every invitation, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do feel dirty.”