Maybe she saves all her money for pricey dresses.
Or maybe she has a magic hand with clearance sales. It is possible. Kristen picks up a lot of designer items cheap that way.
Kristen continues breathlessly, “I saw it in Vogue last month, and holy shit, I’m going to make everyone super jealous.”
“Lemme see.”
She dashes to put it on. It’s a stunning dress, modestly cut and made with soft, expensive-feeling material. I can see why Kristen’s thrilled, but…
Vogue?
I’ve seen some of that stuff because Kristen likes to shove the magazine in my face from time to time, and none of the featured items are affordable. Vogue is for people who have way too much money and can’t think of anything better to do with it than buy frivolous junk.
“The other dresses Liza brought… Were they all like this one?” I ask.
Kristen nods vigorously. “Yeah. I mean, they’re different colors and cuts, but they’re all amazing. It was sooooo hard trying to decide between the Versace and an Armani she brought. Oh my God, I’d love to see her closet.”
A cold sliver of unease pricks my gut. Liza mentioned her father being busy with his business. Maybe he bought them for her to make up for neglect. I’ve seen plenty of kids in classes with guilt presents—overly expensive and overly flashy. But something about this situation makes me to feel like I just divided an even number by two and ended up with a remainder.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth
I hurry up the steps to Grandma’s mansion. She hates being kept waiting.
I should’ve left Dominic’s place sooner, but I wasn’t able to bring myself to leave the warm bed, especially with him moving slowly down my body. Then I had to make a stop to change because Grandma is the kind of person you see only when you’re dressed in a fresh, stylish outfit from an exclusive boutique. And of course, I had to swap the Civic for the Maserati.
Next time, I’m giving myself an extra ten minutes. I can sense Grandma hasn’t given up on her grand plans, and she’ll use whatever leverage she can to push me into the desired direction. I don’t want Dominic to get caught in the crossfire.
You’re falling for him.
Nope. I’ve already fallen for him. I won’t let anyone hurt him, especially Grandma Shirley, who never cares about collateral damage. Compared to my grandmother, Machiavelli was an amateur.
I should tell Dominic the truth about who I am soon, I think as I open the door. He’s been wondering, I can tell. I shouldn’t have taken those dresses from my closet, but Kristen deserves to have a great prom.
As I turn into the stairs, a woman bumps into me. In her forties, the brunette’s in an off-the-rack black suit, her hair cut into a neat bob. Her dark eyebrows pinch, wrinkles forming on a small forehead, and her mouth opens as though she’s about to cut me down with a few words.
Then her eyes grow large, and she stops. Her thin lips twist into a smirk. “Well. It’s you.” Her gaze sweeps over me. “You dress…rather classy.”
I scowl at the mocking way she stares at me. I’m not used to such looks from strangers, and certainly not in my grandmother’s home.
Her face has a coat of foundation, but dark freckles still show through. “Do I know you?” I ask.
“No, probably not.” She doesn’t bother to introduce herself. Instead, she starts moving past me.
I stare as the woman walks out of the house. Who was that?
As I turn away, I spot Tolyan, and gesture in the direction of the foyer. “Do you know who she is?”
“Dorothy Brown,” he says, his voice cool and slightly accented.
The name doesn’t ring a bell, and I’m really good with names. Still, we have to have met somewhere before for her to act in that rudely.
“Shirley’s waiting,” he says.
“Right,” I mutter. “I know I’m late.”
He glances at his watch. “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”