Welcome to the city of Shanghai. A world of designer clothes, chauffeurs, lavish parties, and juicy scandals. Ever since the Chinese economic boom, rich foreigners have inhabited Shanghai and ruled every inch of the electric city, from the sparkling...
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"GOOD MORNING, MISS WINSLOW!" Olive sauntered into the grand suite, her summery voice pouring into the room and awaking Dakota. After setting down a tray of breakfast delicacies onto the luxury comforter, the maid opened the draperies to the city's snow-kissed streets. "Would you like coffee or tea this morning?"
The sun had risen once more in the urban megalopolis that was Shanghai, signalling a new day's arrival. The blue twilight had settled into another frosty morning, which made Dakota want to snuggle the soft duvet and drift off to sleep. Even though a new sun was shining upon them, Dakota's chest was still raided by a faint pang of apprehensiveness.
"Coffee, please. Lord knows I need it," Dakota Winslow sat up on her king-sized bed groggily as Olive poured her a steaming cup of café noir. She ripped off her silver sleeping mask with a yawn and repositioned the plush pillows behind her, "Have I missed anything?"
"The event designers want to know if you approve the final centerpieces, so they've booked a video conference at noon. We couldn't get Wiz Khalifa to perform at your party since he's on tour, but we've managed to snatch Lil Wayne. I've answered all your emails, and, um, Gabriel called five times," Olive straightened out an ivory mink blanket tensely. "Would you like to return his calls?"
Dakota ran her fingers through her untamed tresses, her eyes sleepily searching her room as if the answer was written in the wainscoting of the walls. She stared at it stonily for a moment, the whiteness calming her down. Even with her interior decorator's seemingly limitless budget, Dakota preferred her room to be polished and spacious. She said it helped her be more productive, but in truth it gave her this false sense of control.
"No, anything else?" she proclaimed in a dignified manner, putting the stubborn strap of her Oscar de la Renta babydoll back into place. Olive didn't know about Gabriel's potential infidelity, and Dakota wanted to keep it that way. Ignoring the maid's stare of confusion, she grabbed a handful of berries and popped them into her mouth. Dakota always answered Gabriel's calls, so it was clear something was up.
"Well, the jet touched down in Paris at two am this morning, and is already en route to Shanghai with the dress. There is just one little tiny problem..." Olive spoke hesitantly, her leg trembling as she wrestled a tight smile onto her face.
The heiress grabbed a sterling fork and poked the yolk of heruova alla benedict. Arching her eyebrow, she paused and took a sip of coffee, "Carry on."
"Well, it's not really a problem but..." Olive tucked the flyways that had escaped from her bun before continuing cautiously. "Your mother is in the jet, she's flying over here right now."
Dakota froze with an expression of arrant bewilderment, the hollandaise-glazed fork dripping yolk onto the plate. Fuck no. The last thing Dakota needed was her mother breathing down her neck about every little thing one week before her big night. Mrs. Winslow was very critical, authoritative, and phlegmatic. Coming from a noble line of British aristocrats, she was a cold, blue-blooded, and, according to Dakota, heartless woman.
