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“Good.” My father nods, looking at his sleek gold wristwatch. “I have to go.” He kisses my forehead again. “I’m sorry about lunch, but why don’t you order in for yourself and James.” He winks at me. “I’m sure Genevra would appreciate not having to cook as well.”
“Of course, Father,” I say with a sweet smile. You bet they’re going to love the meal I have planned for them tonight. “I’ll get a nice meal for all of us.”
“Shit,” my father hisses, glancing at his watch again. “I’ll call you later.” He’s halfway to the stairs, and he calls over his shoulder. “I love you princess.”
“I love you too, Dad,” I call back with another sweet smile before sliding back into my room and closing my door like an evil villain in a movie slinking into their lair.
I walk over to my dresser and pick up the bottle of sleeping pills James delivered to me this morning.
“Thank you, Doctor Bronston,” I say with a satisfied smile, turning the bottle to read the label. “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll definitely be using this tonight. Take two with food for a full night’s sleep.” Snorting, I slip them back onto my dressing table. “I guess in food is as good as with food.”
Laughing evilly to myself because that’s what all good villains do. Or is that maniacally? Tomato, tomahto! I shrug and tap my fingertips together. If I’m going to be an evil villain, I may as well embrace it.
While I didn’t get to defy my father face to face, I can still start my little rebellion behind his back. Oh, and what a little rebellion it’s going to be, and I know just how to start. My father promised conference voice man’s son a virgin.
Well, that’s the first thing that’s going to go wrong with this little deal. Fuck, I might even jet off to Vegas tonight and get married. That would put a wrench in the works.
I can picture it now. Walking late into my own yawn fest party on the arm of a tall, handsome man. We’d walk right up to my father and his faceless dipshit partner in crime, who is standing alongside his obviously hideous son who couldn’t find himself a wife.
“Hello, Dad, dipshit, and Quasimodo,” I’d say, while giving the handsome hunk I’ve just spent the past two days fucking, a big sensuous smile. “Meet my husband.” I’d pull my blood-stained bed sheet from my purse and throw it at him. “And here you go. Proof of our marriage consummation.”
I snort as I find my phone and dial Stacy, wondering if getting married in two days could be done and then trying to remember how long a flight to Vegas is. Because her phone is basically super glued to her hand, she answers after the second ring.
“Bella,” Stacy sings. “Did you do it? Did you speak to your father?” She pauses, but not long enough for me to talk. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come over? I have a bottle of my parent’s expensive tequila.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, and something stops me from blurting out that my eighteen-year secret betrothal to Quasimodo is going to become official on my big day. “And, no, I didn’t have a chance to talk to my father.”
“No, no, no! Bella!” I can hear the frustration flowing through Stacy’s voice. “Time is running out. You need to confront your father before Saturday, or you won’t get another opportunity to.”
Now I’m frowning again as those tiny acupuncture pin pricks stab my nerve endings, once again setting off alarm bells and making me wonder if Stacy knows about my upcoming engagement.
No! She couldn’t possibly! Could she? I give my head a shake and mentally slap myself. Of course, she doesn’t. I know how good Stacy is at keeping secrets from me, and let’s just say she’s never won a round of poker with me—ever!
“What we can do is go to Vegas, anyway!” I grin, picturing Stacy’s jaw dropping to the floor like the character in the movie The Mask does, complete with popping out eyes, too.
“Are you shitting me?” Stacy asks, and I can hear her holding her breath, waiting for my answer.
“Nope,” I say, my heavy heart is feeling a lot lighter. The thought of a prison break from Prison Moretti has replaced the heaviness with panty-wetting excitement as I picture a night in the daring Dark Velvet Lounge.
“My father has left for a few days, and I’m thinking it’s time to explore the Velvet Lounge and its darker twin for a couple of hours before we jet off to Vegas.”
“We could do that!” Stacy’s voice is now filled with excitement. “Where would we leave our suitcases, though?”
“In the trunk of your car that we’ll leave at the airport so we can get home quickly when we get back in the early hours of Saturday morning,” I tell her. “I want to get back just in time for the yawn fest so my father won’t be able to go berserk about my prison break.”
“That’s a great idea,” Stacy says. “What time do you want to leave for the club tonight?”
“Well, I need to make sure the spy and bodyguard are preoccupied,” and by that, I mean they are out for the count when I lace the lovely meals I’m about to order for them with my sleeping pills. “I’ll slip out and meet you at the gates of the creepy old abandoned house across the road.”
“Time, you haven’t given me a time,” Stacy reminds me.
“Oh, right,” I glance at the clock above my door that James put there so I stop being late. “Give me three hours.”
“Three hours it is then.” Stacy giggles. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this. Do you still have that fake ID I got you?”
“Yes, and in three hours, I’ll be using it.” I laugh, excitement making my belly flutter. “Do you think you could tempt Harry to come with us? I believe he’s home.”
“Oh!” The excitement dies from Stacy’s voice. “About Harry…” she clears her throat.
