Page 106 of The Ruthless Boys (Adamson All-Boys Academy 2)
“This is … holy shit, Church.”
“It’s a Carolina Herrera piece,” he says, studying it for a moment.
“That’s, like, swanky as hell,” I whisper, wondering how I’m supposed to wear a dress this expensive without having a heart attack. What if I spill punch on it? There will be punch tonight, right? Or champagne? I’ll definitely spill something on it. “How much did it cost?”
“Does it matter?” he asks, and then thinks on it for a moment. “Twelve, I think.”
“Twelve hundred dollars?!” I blurt, eyes widening.
“Twelve thousand,” Church corrects, pulling out a navy suit similar to the white one he wore to dinner the other night. It has a gray tie, a pink dress shirt, and brown loafers. I can see it’s been perfectly coordinated to match my outfit. “The party isn’t for several hours, but my sisters have hair and makeup people coming if that’s your thing.” He glances my way and shrugs one, elegant shoulder. “Don’t feel pressured though, you don’t have to.”
“I’d like to, you know, to keep up the ruse and all. If I have full makeup and hair, none of those Adamson dicks will recognize me.”
Church nods, and lays his suit out next to mine.
“So if we pull this engagement thing off, your parents will … do what?”
“They have enough pull at that school to get what they want.” He looks down at me with an unreadable expression on his face. “If they believe we’re in love, they’ll do anything. They practically worship romance, that’s what so impossible about them. They don’t offer up favors for nothing.”
Church turns and leaves the room as I stand there and think about Disneyland, about how many favors he had to pull for that.
For a fake engagement.
Or … real feelings … maybe.The Montague’s party is being held in the ballroom, this massive soaring dome of glass that looks over the dark expanse of the sea, the sun just dipping its head beneath the surface. The garden is lit with paper lanterns, and the guests are all dressed to the nines.
No wonder Church bought me a twelve thousand dollar dress to wear; I would’ve stood out in anything less.
“So, you’re Church’s fiancée, are you?”
I swear to god, I’m not ten steps into that door before a sea of glittering debutantes appear beside me, all of them pretty, all of them frowning. Great. Just great. As if noose-wielding murderers weren’t scary enough, I now have socialites on my ass?!
“Um, yep.” I wiggle my fingers to show off the ring, and the girls exchange looks.
“Interesting, considering we’ve never seen you before. Where do you go to school anyway?”
“Santa Cruz High School,” I offer up, because really, that’s not a lie at all. “Why?”
“Santa Cruz High?” the leader girl chokes out, like I’ve somehow personally offended her. “Where on earth is that?”
“In, uh, Santa Cruz?” I offer helpfully, and then Church is there at my side, taking my arm and leading me away from the pack of slobbering gold-diggers. Or … well, they’re probably all rich, but whatever. Close enough. “Who the hell were they?”
“Inconsequential,” Church says, and then he smiles down at me. “Did they berate you for stealing me away?”
“Are they your exes?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Most definitely not.” Church escorts me to the opposite side of the room, handing me a glass of champagne as we scope out the crowd. Everyone seems to be drinking, regardless of age, so I don’t worry too much about it, taking a sip and letting the bubbles settle on my tongue. “Do you see Mark over there?” he asks, and I nod.
There’s the douchebag himself, dancing with some pretty girl in a green dress. If it weren’t for the occasional phone I can see here and there, you might think we’d gone back in time by two hundred years.
“Some of his friends are here, too, as well as that Selena girl who gave you her dress.”
“Interesting,” I murmur, taking a sip of my drink.
Church parades me around the room, introducing me to the rest of his sisters—all of whom are lovely, by the way—and then circling back to his parents.
“Mom, Dad,” he greets, and they raise their glasses in a small toast. “I was wondering if we could talk to you about Charlotte’s attendance—”
“Son, this is a party,” his mother pleads, putting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Go dance, and we’ll discuss this after. I want to see you two waltz.”
“But I don’t know how to waltz,” I choke as Church sighs and takes my hands, pulling me onto the dance floor.
The live orchestra in the corner starts up as he lays a hand on the curve of my waist, curling his fingers through mine.
“Follow my lead,” he whispers against my hair, and then we start to move, swirling around the room. My dress is such a fairy tale concoction of lace and tulle that I really do feel like I’m floating, breathless from the ease at which Church guides me across the dance floor.
