Beautiful Lies (Breaking Belles #2) - Alta Hensley Page 0,7

They were looking for “belles”, right? I could be the epitome of a Southern belle.

Refined. Regal. Expensive. Elusive.

Everything I wasn’t in real life.

But this was all fiction. A performance, a lie. Wasn’t that what rich people were? They sinned just as much as the rest of us, they just didn’t have to pay for it. They got to pretend they were above it all.

They got to skip to the front of the line—their greatest sin.

Tonight I’d be one of them. For 109 days I’d play the part.

But only if I got chosen.

Then, before I was ready, the door swung open. Some of the girls scuffled briefly to be at the front of the single file line, but I grabbed a spot in the middle. Getting into a girl-fight right out of the gates would not be regal or elusive.

We paraded in, single file. My mouth dropped open a tiny bit as we entered.

It was an intimidating, spotless white ballroom. I’d never seen anything like it. The whole manor was over a hundred years old, probably significantly more. And looking around was like we’d stepped out of time and slipped into a side pocket where it was still a century ago.

Men in pristine white tuxes mingled, cocktails in hand until they positioned themselves in an orderly line. And then there were the men in luxurious but ominous silver cloaks. The sheen of the rich fabric shimmered under the light of the huge gas chandelier. Each of the cloaked men held a silver-topped cane.

One of the men in a cloak demanded for us to be displayed and we arranged ourselves in a brightly colored line, our gowns vivid splashes of color in the otherwise monochrome room.

As we walked in a circle, I searched the room furiously, trying to get my bearings and figure out which of the men in white tuxes was the Initiate of the night.

The men in tuxedos stood at attention, reminding me of soldiers preparing for war. Some watched our procession curiously, but one was just downing his glass of dark amber liquid. He seemed completely uninterested in the proceedings. Jeez, if he was here to support his friend, he was doing a crap job at it.

I hoped it was either the studious looking one or the guy smiling kindly at us like he was trying to encourage us all that we were doing well.

Instead…

It was the drunken lout whom the Elders approached with a small black ribbon and a scowl on their faces as the drunk’s empty glass was taken away.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Him?

My heart sank. He didn’t even look like he wanted to be here. He walked unevenly towards the belles and brushed his hand roughly over the pearls at their necks.

When he got to me, I tried to make eye contact with him, to secure some kind of connection between us.

Mrs. Hawthorne had warned me he was rough around the edges. But still I’d expected… well, something more than this. And yet, hadn’t I just been thinking it was unfair to judge someone based on only a few minutes of interaction?

He barely touched my pearls, never once looking in my face before moving on to the next girl. He seemed to have less and less time for each girl as he went down the line, and my hopes sank even further down into my stomach.

This man was not my hope for salvation.

He was a drunk rich boy with too much money and privilege who’d probably never done a hard day’s work in his entire life.

An Elder, obviously trying to reinstate some of the pomp and circumstance of the ceremony, banged his cane on the floor. “Sully VanDoren, you are to choose a belle.”

Sully VanDoren. VanDoren… good Lord, I couldn’t think of a name that screamed money and privilege more than that.

Okay, so this obviously wasn’t going to work out. I’d have to think of other out-of-the box solutions to my family’s problems. Dammit. I’d have to quit doing eldercare. I’d miss my patients, but maybe if I got a lucrative waitressing gig in the city, I could send money back and—

Suddenly Sully stomped over and stood in front of me.

I froze and stared back at him, feeling first like a deer caught in headlights and then getting irrationally pissed when he continued doing nothing but standing there.

Did he get off on this? Toying with women?

Was he actually going to choose me? Why on earth?

Even now, he stared like he detested me.

I glared back