Cocky F*ck - Sheridan Anne Page 0,130

it all back. You can keep her, man. I don’t have room for that kind of crazy in my life.”

I flip off Charlie before focusing back on Colton. “I’m not fucking crazy. Just hear me out,” I tell him. “Your dad did it when your mom left and the world saw him as a stronger man, so why can’t you do the same? Invite all the biggest names in the business and every A-lister in your contact list, dazzle them with dancers, alcohol, and a good time then prove to them you’re the fucking boss and the only rightful heir to Carrington Incorportaed. Prove to those mother-fuckers that you’re it, that you’re the one who’s about to lead a revolution, and if they don’t climb on board now, they’ll fucking regret it. Have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Don’t let them want you, make them need you.”

“Do you think that would really work?”

“I saw you during that board meeting, Colton. I know it will work.”

Colton looks across at the TV screen but the faraway look in his eyes tells me that he’s really considering this. When he finally looks back at me, his lips pull into an interested grin. “A party, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say as an excited grin stretches wide across my face. “What’s your take on Gatsby?”

Chapter 29

My silver gown hangs heavily from my body with the stunning fringe tickling my knees. Who would have known that all this beading, feathers, and pearls would weigh so much? It’s worth it though. This dress paired with my dark hair and plum lips just hits differently. It’s not like the other gowns I’ve worn which were slimming, elegant, and beautiful—this dress is wild. This dress screams for fun, it demands respect, and it tells everyone who looks my way to watch the fuck out.

This dress is a fucking boss.

I lean into the mirror and fasten my headpiece, laughing at the feathers that stick high above my head and the line of pearls that trail across my forehead. This couldn’t be real. I don’t even look like me. How the hell did I get accepted into this world and am now attending my third party? My high school prom wasn’t even going to be this good. Hell, I’m sure prom would have just been a cheap DJ in the school gymnasium and some tacky decorations. Everyone would have left after an hour and got wasted in the park.

“Hey, I found something for you today,” Mom says, stepping into my room and blowing me the fuck away in a strapless, floor-length, black and gold, beaded gown, hugging her body just right. I’ve never seen Mom like this, not even her wedding dress was anything close to being so spectacular.

Mom couldn't believe her ears when Colton extended her an offer to attend the party. She nearly collapsed on the spot and then burst into tears of happiness which only made me well up too. Though, the moment was completely ruined when he destroyed it by offering her his credit card to purchase a gown. I could have ripped his handsome head off. I might be the type to jump at the opportunity to spend what isn’t mine, but not mom. She would have seen it as a charity she didn’t need.

She thanked him and respectfully declined his offer to pay which is how we spent all of Thursday night going from store to store until we found the perfect dresses. They’re rented of course, but so worth it. I’d do anything to be able to keep this baby hanging in my closet until my dying days but it’s just not meant to be. Maybe one day I’ll be able to actually afford stuff like this, until then, I could really get used to this renting thing. I didn’t actually know we could do that, though it certainly explains how some of the girls back home were walking around with Prada bags. I never actually stopped to think about it, just always assumed they were either whoring themselves out, had a knock off, or stole it from some unsuspecting housewife.

My eyes scan over Mom’s dress and while I saw her quickly try it on during our shopping trip, it’s not the same as seeing her completely dolled up with her hair done, makeup looking flawless, matching headpiece and black gloves that stretch past her elbows. “Mom,” I breathe, staring in wonder. “You look stunning.”

“Oh, stop honey,” she says, her cheeks blushing

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