by Tia Wylder
I hadn’t been in my room for more than ten minutes when Diane barged in, glaring at me.
“What did I say about knocking?” I asked her rudely.
“You ruined dinner,” Diane said, flopping down on my king-sized bed and throwing one of the satin pillows at me. I dodged it and the pillow fell to the floor, landing noiselessly on the plush ivory carpet.
“I don’t care,” I said. “If Dad and Mom make me marry that jerk, they’ll have ruined my life. And somehow, Diane, I think that’s a little more important than dinner.”
Diane bit her lip. “Look, Gianna – I get it. But what if he’s a nice guy? And I mean, he’s not that old – he’s only thirty-seven.”
“When I was thirteen, he was my age!” I exclaimed. “That’s practically ancient.”
“Well, maybe he’s really hot or something,” Diane said. “And maybe he’ll be really good to you.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “Stop taking their side. We’re sisters. We’re supposed to be on the same page!”
Diane didn’t reply. She sniffed and tilted her chin high in the air, but her arrogant look faded after a moment or two. “Look,” she said softly. “Gianna, what else are you going to do with your life?”
“Move out of this place and get a job, and take care of myself,” I said. “And then when I have enough money saved, I want to go to Los Angeles and be an actress. You know that – that’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Yeah, when you were a little kid,” Diane said. “Gianna, you’re not a kid anymore. You’re an adult, and you can’t just indulge these fantasies.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Then I’ll move out and get a job and see what happens. Maybe I’ll meet someone I actually love – and marry them!”
“You could fall in love with Barnaby, you know,” Diane said. “It would be so romantic, like one of those old mail order bride stories where they fall in love after they’re married.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said flatly. “And speaking of fantasies, now who sounds crazy?”
Diane flushed. “I was just saying,” she said, shaking her head and shrugging. “I mean, Gianna, you didn’t go to college. You barely graduated high school!”
I sighed. “I wanted to go to college,” I said. “Dad wouldn’t let me, remember?”
“Well, you probably wouldn’t have gotten in,” Diane said in a gentle voice. “I mean, your grades weren’t very good.”
“Neither were yours,” I said hotly.
“Yeah, I know,” Diane replied. She bit her lip. “But I wish Mom and Dad had a guy in mind for me.”
“Take Barnaby,” I said. “You can have him, for all I care.”
Diane frowned. “But he doesn’t want me. He wants you.”
I snorted. “I highly doubt that,” I said. “To be honest, I don’t think he wants either of us, Diane. He doesn’t seem terribly enthused about the prospect of getting married.”
Diane pouted.
“You’ll find someone,” I said, sitting next to her on the bed and patting her arm.
“You should listen to Mom and Dad,” Diane said suddenly. “Gianna, they only want what’s best for you, and I think you know that.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What, did Mom send you up here to talk some sense into me or some bullshit?”
Diane flushed.
“I don’t like the look of that,” I said sharply. “Are you serious?”
Diane sighed. “Gianna, I’m sorry, but—“
I abruptly got off the bed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Get out of my room,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t feel like talking to you right now.”
Diane looked like she wanted to cry, and for a moment, I felt guilty. But it wasn’t long before my guilt was replaced by vicious anger, and I glared at her until she got off my bed and slumped out of my room.
As soon as she was gone, I groaned and buried my face in my hands. It had always been like this – I’d been the outspoken, strong sister…and Diane had been the spineless sister, always bending over backward to please Mom and Dad. In fact, come to think of it, I couldn’t remember Diane ever getting into a fight with Mom, or Dad.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Jessica. Thankfully, she answered on the first ring.
“Hey,” Jessica said. “What’s up?” She sounded distracted.
“Um, nothing,” I lied. “I just feel like getting out of the house for a while. Are you doing anything?”
“I was going to try that new club, Punky, but I’m not sure now,” Jessica said. She yawned loudly into the phone, and I winced. “I’m really tired. I was at a dress fitting today, and ugh, god, I feel so fat.”
“Well, come out and dance with me,” I said. “That burns calories, right?”
Jessica laughed. “I thought you weren’t allowed to go out?”
“I am now,” I lied. “So, are you in?”
“I guess,” Jessica said. “After all, I’m not going to be a single woman for much longer. What time? You want to go now?”
I glanced outside. The sun was just beginning to set, but it was still too light. “In a while,” I said. “Like, eight-thirty?” I knew I wouldn’t be able to sneak out until it was fully dark, and even then, I’d have to be careful. Mom and Dad had motion-sensing lights installed around the perimeter of their property, and I would have to creep across the lawn, jump the fence, and then somehow manage to hail a cab. The prospect was daunting, but suddenly I felt like I would lose my mind if I had to spend one more second trapped inside their perfect McMansion.
“Okay,” Jessica said. “You want me to stop by and pick you up?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I mean, no, thanks, though. I’ll get a cab and meet you there.”
“Okay,” Jessica repeated. She sounded a little suspicious, but thankfully she didn’t ask any further questions. “Sounds good.”
We hung up, and I immediately went into my attached bathroom and shut the door before filling the tub with hot, soapy water. As soon as the tub was filled to the brim, I carefully climbed inside and let the bubbles flow over my body. It was relaxing, but I was in no mood to relax. I wanted to go out and paint the town red. I wanted to dance with strangers, I wanted to meet handsome men.
In short, I wanted to forget all about my disastrous evening…and Barnaby, before my parents or Diane had the chance to remind me again.
At eight-ten, I slipped out of my bedroom window and carefully crawled down the rose trellis. The night sky was fully dark, and it was chilly outside, but I hadn’t brought a jacket – all of my coats were in the downstairs hall closets, and I knew my parents would ask questions if they saw me sneaking into the foyer wearing a cocktail dress and heels. I didn’t have much in the way of risqué clothing, but in my dark blue satin dress, I felt pretty good. I knew the color set off my pale skin and made my eyes look more golden than brown. Clutched in my fingers, I carried a pair of heels that I’d worn the previous spring as a bridesmaid at a cousin’s wedding. I just hoped they weren’t dreadfully out of date.
The air was still and silent. We lived just outside of Boston, and although I could see the skyline in the distance, the quiet air was almost unnerving as I crept across the cold, wet grass. By the time I got to the large iron fence, I was shivering but feeling triumphant – not a single light had gone off, and I hadn’t heard the telltale barking from my father’s arsenal of security dogs.
Gripping the iron fence with both hands, I hauled myself up and over. For a moment, I thought I wasn’t going to make it. But then I summoned my strength and pulled myself free and clear. Tumbling onto the grass, a smile spread across my face. I did it, I thought as I got to my feet and brushed my hands off. I finally escaped!
Twenty minutes later, Jessica and I were pushing our way into a crowded club. It was much more packed than I’d assumed – every inch was filled with bodies. It was strange, but I didn’t mind. After all, the only times I’d danced before had been at family weddings…and this was ce
rtainly a different atmosphere. Music was blaring from seemingly every angle, and the lighting was so dim that I could hardly see Jess, even though she was standing in front of me.
“I’m going to get a drink!” Jessica yelled.
“Get me one, too,” I yelled back.
Jessica nodded, then turned and pushed through a massive bunch of people clustered around a long, metallic bar covered in sparkles. I swallowed nervously as I watched my best friend disappear. This is exciting.I thought as I looked around. I couldn’t believe it – I was embarrassed to admit that I’d never been in a real club before – but it was growing less strange by the second. Soon, I found that I was even bobbing my head in time to the rhythm of the loud music.
“Hey!” A loud voice made me jump, and I whirled around, expecting to see Jessica with two glasses of wine in her hand. But instead, there was a guy standing there – a gorgeous guy, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
“Hi,” I said, pushing my chest out and smiling, just like I’d read in a girl’s magazine. “I’m Gianna.”
The guy grinned. “Andy,” he said. “Andy Cole.”
“Gianna DiFaba,” I said.
Andy reached for my hand, and we shook. It felt strangely formal, and I laughed again. Andy gave me a bemused look. “So, do you come here often?”
“No,” I said loudly, struggling to be heard over the bass and thump of the music. “This is my first time. I’m with my friend, but I think she went to get drinks!”
Andy nodded. “Let me buy you another one,” he said.
There was a glint in his eyes that made me a little nervous, but it was a thrilling sensation and not a scary one. Aside from school, I hadn’t had much interaction with men outside of my own family. Dad hadn’t ever let me go on a real date, and most of my other attempts to sneak out had been foiled by his bodyguard, Jake.
“Okay,” I said, unsure of what else to reply. “So, what do you do?”
“I’m a student teacher,” Andy said. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “So, you wanna get out of here and maybe go somewhere?”
“No,” I said. “I just got here, why would I want to leave?”
Andy gave me a blank look before rolling his eyes and walking away. I frowned – what had I done wrong? All of the magazines I’d read said men liked direct women.
When Jessica returned and handed me a drink, I took a big gulp without even looking at it. It was sticky and sweet and bright pink – definitely not the fine wine I was used to drinking at home – and I coughed and gagged, staring down at the flimsy plastic cup in my hand.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, still gagging. “It’s disgusting!”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t exactly think they have a bottle of sixty-three cabernet hanging around,” she said with a smirk. “It’s not bad – it’s called the house punch.”
Just as I was about to ask Jessica if she wanted to go to the dance floor and join the crushing throb of bodies, I groaned.
“Shit,” I muttered. “He followed me here. He actually followed me!”
Jessica narrowed her eyes. “Who?”
“Jake,” I moaned, covering my eyes with one hand and hoping he hadn’t spotted me. But it was too late. The beefy, muscular bodyguard was walking toward me at an alarming speed.
“Gianna!” He bellowed loudly. “What are you doing out of the house?”
“I’m at a club,” I said drily. “And I’m not a child! I’m twenty-five years old!”
Jake shook his head and glared. “You’re coming with me,” he said, grabbing my wrist in his giant paw before I had a chance to step back. “And we’re going home. Right now, Gianna.”
“But I don’t want to,” I whined, well aware that I was acting like a little kid. “Come on, Jake. Just go home and say you couldn’t find me! I’ll be back in the morning!”
Jake gave me a deadpan look and shook his head. He was still gripping my wrist, and his fingers were almost painfully tight. “No,” he said. “Gianna, if I return without you, your father will fire me. Is that what you want?”
I stared at him for a long moment before rolling my eyes. “No,” I muttered, my reply drowned in the loud music. “I don’t want you to get fired.”
“Then come with me,” Jake said firmly.
I threw an apologetic glance at Jessica. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed over my shoulder as I followed Jake out of the club. “I really am.”
When Jake and I were in the backseat of my father’s limousine, I sighed and pressed my face to the glass. Our driver, Curtis, pulled away from the club.
“How did Dad know I left the house?”
“Security cameras,” Jake said shortly. “You forget the lawn is completely covered.”
I covered my face with my hands and groaned.
When we got back to the house, my parents were waiting in the foyer.
“I am very, very disappointed in you,” Dad said angrily. He was red in the face and I watched a vein bulging from the side of his neck. “Do you know what could have happened to you out there?”
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “I could’ve had fun, for a change!”
“You could have been raped! Or killed, or mugged!” My father thundered. “Gianna, you are a very disrespectful daughter!”
“You know what,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning in close. “I don’t have to take this shit anymore. I could leave, right now. Just try to stop me.”
My father laughed. “You couldn’t survive in the world on your own,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d just like to see you try.”
As I whirled around on my heel and began climbing the stairs to my room, I pressed my lips into a thin line and narrowed my eyes. Just watch me, I thought angrily. Just watch me, Dad.
Chapter 2
Barnes
“Mr. Harrington, I assure you – I’m very pleased with your services so far. I just…wonder if there’s anything else we could be doing.”
I sighed and looked up. Angela Davis, one of my wealthiest (and most demanding) clients were sitting in front of my desk with a saucy expression on her face. She was an attractive middle-aged woman, with hair the color of straw cut to a long sharp bob and a face that was so carefully made up that she resembled a mannequin. A very, very rich mannequin.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “Do you want to go over the pre-nup again? Because unfortunately, I have to tell you – it’s very airtight. There’s not much of a chance you’ll get another million out of Mr. Davis unless we sue him. And Mrs. Davis, I’m sorry, but I doubt that the judge will decide in your favor.”
“Please,” Angela purred. “Call me Angela.”
“Right, Angela,” I said. “As I said, I don’t think the judge will side with you. You committed infidelity, and you were caught in the act with photographic evidence. You know where your husband stands on this.”
“Fuck Harold,” Angela said with surprising venom in her voice. “He only married me to make another woman jealous, do you know that?”
“That doesn’t matter now,” I said as calmly as I could manage.
Angela’s expression turned sweet once again. “Mr. Harrington – I mean, Barnes, is it okay if I call you Barnes?”
I nodded.
“Well, it’s just…” Angela trailed off, and she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “I’m so unhappy about everything that’s going on. Do you…do you think we could go someplace and talk about it?”
I glanced around. We were sitting my office, and most of my other staff had left for the day. Ever since I’d opened my firm, I’d tried to keep things small. But when you have a reputation as Boston’s most ruthless divorce lawyer, it’s impossible to stay tiny.
“We are talking,” I said. “And we’re alone in the office.”
Angela smirked at me before getting to her feet and walking over to where I sat, behind my desk. I noticed that she was wearing a very tight red dress that clung to her large curves.<
br />
“Barnes,” Angela said in a throaty voice. “Do you ever need…a little stress relief?”
“Not usually,” I said. “That’s what they make beer for.”
Angela ignored my flippant comments and put her hand on my shoulder. “Because I give excellent massages,” she said. “Harold always said so. He said I was better than the professionals.”
