Sin & Salvation

Chapter 20

The petticoat under my dress itches my legs and I bend down awkwardly, desperately trying to scratch them in the backseat of the car. My sleeves start falling down my shoulders and I quickly fix them, trying not to flash our driver who is glancing at me through the rearview mirror. While I might look like a princess right now, I certainly don't feel like one.

How the hell did people wear this shit back then?

I'm living my worst sensory overload nightmare. The lace corset is tied extra tight, crushing my ribs. Although beautiful, the puffy lace sleeves are scratching my arms and my long hair is tickling my back. I will say though, Mel's girls did an amazing job on me.

Loose curls weave through my hair, front pieces pinned back with small pink flowers. From the back, it looks like they're sitting in my hair without anything holding them up. My makeup is super natural to not take away from the rest of my outfit, but my favorite part is probably the long, wispy individual lashes they put on.

I can tell Brett feels as uncomfortable as I do because he keeps pulling at the collar of his frilly undershirt. It tickles his chin when he looks down at his phone, getting increasingly irritated by it.

He's been texting since the moment we got in the car and usually it wouldn't bother me, but after lunch today, my mind is racing wondering who could be so important that his eyes are glued to the screen.

I've tried a few times to sneak peeks over his shoulder, but he has a privacy screen on so all my attempts have failed miserably. There's only so many times I can fake a stretch or a yawn to look over him. I glance over at his face and see him smirking at his phone.

Motherfucker. He has to be texting someone else.

In one last desperate attempt, I pretend to be adjusting my petticoat and lean over dramatically to look. Right when I see what look like the words 'tonight' and 'meet', we hit a huge pothole and I fall sideways directly onto Brett's lap.

His phone goes flying and I go down face first into his crotch, causing him to yell out in pain. I scramble to get up but he grabs my upper arm roughly, facing me towards him.

"What the fuck Cora, why were you up my ass so much?" He lets go, as if disgusted by me, and reaches down to swiftly grab his phone. I try to look quickly before he gets it to see what's on his screen, but it landed face down.

"Sorry, my dress was caught underneath me," I mutter.

Not even bothering to look up, he mumbles, "Whatever, don't do it again," before going right back to texting, this time angling himself away from me.

Well, so much for that plan.

However, I did see the words meet and tonight, so maybe he's going to be seeing this person at the gala. I'll have to keep an eye on his whereabouts and not get distracted by anyone— including Silas.

Especially Silas.

We're only a few minutes away and I happen to look towards the front of the car where I can see the driver already watching me. His eyes look sad and apologetic, so I just give him a little smile to let him know I'm fine and not to worry. He must see it because he reciprocates the gesture and continues watching the road.

We pull up to a large gate with a high-tech intercom. The driver leans out and speaks with the security guard on the other end who asks for our names. After a few seconds, he confirms our names on the list and the gates begin to open, revealing the long, winding driveway to the Attenborough's house. I look out my window, taking in all the beautiful trees and flowers lining the driveway on our way up.