Chapter 1 - 5
"Avie, your future hubby is here!" Silas hollers from downstairs.
"In a Rolls Royce," Luciano adds.
"In a Rolls Royce!" Silas echoes.
I tuck sheets of my straightened hair behind both earlobes. My eyes dart over my rose-gold dress, form-fitting with sequins and matching chains that lap over my bare shoulders and arms. I hurry out of my room, grabbing my clutch bag on the way out. When I’m close to the last step, Silas appears to offer his hand out with a theatrical flourish.
"Lady Avara," he says in a royal accent.
I snort and take his hand as I hobble to ground level, trying not to slip in these toothpick-thin heels. I thank him quickly, and his response is a gallant bow. Luciano waits by the door, ready to walk me out as Silas tails me from behind.
"Where’s my real bodyguard? Where’s Michael?"
"He was ceremoniously retired," he says, opening the front door without looking. "Colton convinced dad that he’ll take care of it from here." A tincture of disdain in his voice. "I’m sure he wants his daughter-in-law to have the best security money can buy."
I exit the house to see not one but two cars. A Rolls Royce Phantom and a matte black Mercedes Benz AMG behind it. The chauffeur stands with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting next to the open door. Fear rouses panic and they both wreak their havoc within me. I glance back at Silas, who flashes me a heart-warming smile, and Luciano gives me an encouraging nod.
I lift my head a little higher and I turn around to strut down the steps with fraudulent confidence, making my way to the Rolls Royce. The sleek body shell is made from super formed aluminium panels—large, light and streamlined, the gold-plated emblem crowning its bonnet. I slip inside and the driver closes the door behind me. Vance is next to me, outfitted in a bespoke suit, custom-cut, an exquisite combination of royal blue and burgundy. His hair, with rippling quality, has a pristine Ivy League side-parting and a high fade. He has his phone glued to his ear and a MacBook on his lap.
"Just get it done," he says with gritted teeth. He glances at me askance, irritation pinching the corners of his face. "I have to go."
He hangs up. "Avara," he greets icily.