Just to piss her off, I gag over her favorite runner rug in the foyer. She squeals indignantly and holds up her hands. “That’s it! You’re an impertinent little brat, and you need to go. I want you married and gone. Do you understand me, Alexandra?”
I snort while flipping around on my heel. Though part of me thinks I look confident, another part of me is distinctly aware of how drunk I must look. Stumbling up the stairs takes a hot minute, but I manage to make it to my bedroom, where I throw the flask onto the bed and plop into the chaise lounge near the vanity.
With my arm over my eyes, my mind drifts. My body tips sideways while my awareness stays rigidly fixed in place, the world tilting on its axis like I’m on a ride at the carnival. Loud sounds invade my ears from the party—Tomas panting in my ear, someone shouting nearby, EDM pulsing through my eardrums, Soren laughing indulgently—and it makes me feel like I’m still there.
Am I? Or have I disappeared altogether?
Time passes in strange spurts. Every time I try to grab hold of a thought or a memory, it slips like sand through my fingers, trickling back into the greater subconscious ocean, where it becomes one with everything else. In this state, I don’t have to worry about being Alexandra Moretti.
All I have to do is worry about making it to the bathroom in time.
Regaining consciousness to the sound of my hurling sends me spiraling into the past. For a split second, I feel like maybe Tomas is behind me with his hand sweeping over my spine. But he’s not. It’s just my dress scraping against my skin.
I hurl again and then flush the toilet, shakily rising to my feet. I strip out of the dress and grab one of the water bottles from the mini-fridge in my room, taking it with me into the shower. After flipping the knob, I settle onto the tile floor, shivering while the cold water turns into a steady warm stream.
A few sips from the water bottle clear my head, and everything comes crashing back. My behavior in the foyer was abominable, even with how angry my mother has made me lately. It occurs to me that she has no idea what’s happened under her roof, and she deserves an explanation—and maybe even an apology.
The shower sobers me up, and I pull on a pair of jogging pants with a T-shirt. I wrap my hair up into a loose bun and pad down the hall, listening intently to the sound of the house settling around me. Muffled voices carry from the rooms below. Once I’m in the foyer, I follow the hushed whispers to my late father’s office.
The cracked door sheds a light that streaks across the dark carpet.
My mother’s voice cuts through the silence, one word that rattles me to my core. “…knife.”
With my interest piqued, I sneak closer, trying to hear over the sound of my racing heart. What is my mother talking about? And who is she talking to?
“…for hire, yes…”
Covering my mouth keeps me from being discovered. It’s easy to be discovered snooping out here, especially since there aren’t any rooms nearby for me to lunge into should my position become compromised.
But I can’t help it. I’m too curious.
“…discreetly…”
The light illuminates my eye as I dare to peer through the crack. Footsteps pound across the room and the door slams in my face, freezing me in place. I close my eyes as adrenaline courses through my veins.
It takes an extra effort to get my limbs to move. I rush back to my room and shut the door quietly, leaning heavily against the wood. I didn’t hear much, but it was enough to know my mother has done something wicked.
And I want to know what it is.