Chapter 7: Sometimes, I’m Not a Good Person
VANESSA BELMONT
Annabeth yelped, grabbed the long, glittering skirt of her haute couture dress, and ran away.
Oliver and I stared as she disappeared into the crowd.
"Did we say something wrong?" asked Ollie.
"Probably," I answered.
"Excuse me."
Ollie and I turned and looked up, up, up into the cold, expressionless, most gorgeous male face ever produced by the creator deities. We both gulped.
"Mr. Thorne," said Ollie, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Mister Thorne. How many we help you?"
"What are you, the salesgirl at the mall?" I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
"Shut up or die," Ollie whispered back.
"The young lady you were speaking to a moment ago," said Mr. Thorne in a deep, resonant voice. "Where did she go?"