The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

I forced myself to look happy and carefree, and it must have been satisfying enough for her, because she snapped a few and then airdropped the best photo to my phone in my lap. She didn’t have to tell me what to do next. I opened the Instagram app.

The picture I was about to post gave me pause. There Alice and I were, looking excited and like new best friends, who’d just enjoyed getting their makeovers together. The whole thing was so fucking deceitful.

And yet, I posted in anyway.

Win at all costs.

The red Donna Willow dress had been altered to fit me, but I held my breath as Alice finished tugging the ribbons tight at the back. Last time I’d had the dress on, I’d felt powerful, and I hoped the magic was still there. I needed every ounce of strength today.

I stared at the finished product in the full-length mirror. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me.

Alice sighed wistfully. “It’s like she made the dress for you.” Her expression was full of admiration. “You are breathtaking.”

I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

She turned to leave, but I did something I’d never done before. I reached out and grasped her wrist to stop her. To make her feel a connection. I wasn’t sure who it startled more, me or her. Her wide eyes went from my grasp to my face.

“Thank you for everything, Alice.”

Did she know what I meant? I’d done my best, struggling through what they wanted, and although at times she’d been aloof and direct, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without her. I wanted her on my side.

The corner of her mouth twisted up into a half-smile, but it looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or apologize. Her normally confident voice faltered. “You’re welcome.”

There was a knock at the bedroom door, followed by a male voice. “He’s asking for her.”

Suddenly, I was pulled close. Panic swamped her face and her words were urgent and low. “Try to enjoy it.”

“What?” I reared back. Had she really just said that?

But the nervous Alice disappeared. She hardened back into her veneer, returning to the cheerful woman from twenty seconds ago. “Come in,” she called.

The door swung open.

Vance Hale looked similar to his older brother Royce. He had the same long nose, blue eyes, and brown hair, but he was taller. More lanky and slender, like a long-distance runner without an ounce of fat. It made his high cheekbones look razor sharp.

The guy’s social calendar put Alice’s to shame, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. His hair was different from before. It was neat and tidy, and he looked so polished and comfortable in his tuxedo, had I not known him, I would have wondered if he’d been born in one.

As I assessed him, he did the same. His curious gaze raked down me and back up again, and his smile was easy. “Hey, Marist. Pretty dress.”

“Hi.” I was so nervous, I was vibrating. “Thanks.”

“You ready? Royce wants a word.”

My feet wouldn’t move. I was rooted to the carpet. Worse, my mouth filled with glue and wouldn’t work. Fear gripped me in its vise. It told me as long as I stayed where I was, I would be okay.

His head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Marist?” Alice prompted.

No. I wouldn’t be an avoider like the rest of my family. I willed my feet to begin moving. I ordered my heart not to beat too fast and make me lightheaded. I demanded my lips and tongue do my bidding. When I’d stepped into the red dress, I’d pulled on the other version of myself—the girl the Hales wanted me to be.

The girl who could handle anything.

“Sorry.” It was surprising how normal it sounded from me. “I’m ready.”

Vance escorted me along the hallway, and when we reached the top of the grand staircase, I grasped a handful of the skirt to lift so I wouldn’t trip. I wasn’t expecting him to take my other hand and help guide me. The gentlemanly gesture was . . . nice. His hand was warm and steady, and it distracted as we descended the stairs.

“I’m glad it was you,” he said at the bottom. His face shifted from serious to playful. “I had such a crush on Emily. This would have been weird.”

Did he know what was about to happen? “Right,” I said. “Because this isn’t weird at all.”

His surprised smile was wide. He nodded toward the closed door ahead of us, the one which led into the formal dining room. “You better get in there. He thinks I can’t tell, but he’s nervous.”

Vance pulled open the door for me and waited beside it.

The heavy curtains had been drawn closed, and the extravagant crystal chandelier that loomed over the dining table wasn’t lit. The room was naturally dark, paneled in walnut that was so deep in color it was nearly black, which made the formal space somber and cold. The red rug, trimmed in gold, beneath the huge dining table did nothing to warm it up.