Caught up in the sins and glamour of high society life, Astoria became the girl no one could trust.
In order to return to grace, she must do the unthinkable: find a husband before the end of the year... before her mother chooses for her. With only...
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The next morning I was woken by my mother's frantic voice on the other end of the phone, demanding that I crawl out of bed. Didn't she know that seven a.m. was an ungodly hour to awaken anyone?
"Honestly, no decent woman sleeps in past six a.m., Astoria. High society women must rise early, there is much ado in the mornings."
"No tolerable woman wakes up before six a.m. the day after a gala," I grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. "Ugh, I have a headache."
"Astoria Blair," she said calmly, trying not to lose her temper. Obviously I struck a nerve, a small smile rose to my cheeks as I sat up, leaning back on my elbows, stretching my calves. "The realtor will be around at noon to help find you a place to stay while you're in the city, purchase something tasteful," her voice whined through the phone. I mumbled a response as I hung up on her, rolling out of bed and stumbling into the shower. I didn't get back to my suite until two a.m., and I didn't fall asleep until well after that. I had a feeling that today was going to be a long day.
I had breakfast sent to my room and I plopped down on the couch, pulling my feet under me as I turn the television on, watching the pretty redheaded newscaster speak rapid-fire French. She filled me in on the latest French gossip, which mostly consisted of government affairs and the budding relationships between French actors and actresses.
After I received my fill of French telecasting and replied to all of my emails, I turned off the television and began getting ready for my day. I threw my hair into a high ponytail and put on a pair of black jeans, a pale pink and gold-flecked shirt, and a navy cardigan. I put on minimal makeup, quickly tying a pale pink bow around my thick ponytail and grabbing my large sunglasses off the dresser.
I made it to the lobby just as my mother was greeting the relator. He was young, probably thirty something and feverishly nodded at my mother. I rolled my eyes, sneaking up beside her. I extended my hand to the man, sending her a sideways glance. Mother had a habit of flirting with men half her age, and they had a habit of falling for her tricks. Her sandy blonde hair and her bright green eyes hardly told her age, she'd aged gracefully, something I hoped I'd inherit from her. She was beautiful and lethal. She was a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Astoria Wellington, you must be Jason Day," I said fluidly, cutting my mother off mid sentence, earning a glare from her, but I ignored her. I focused my steady eyes on the red headed realtor. He was built broad, but was an average size. He was handsome; his business obviously did remarkably well guessing by his appearance. No wedding ring, but he appeared to be in his mid-thirties, right up my mother's alley. "My mother mentioned that you have impeccable taste in locations, I'm sure I won't be disappointed."
"I'm sure," my mother grumbled, digging through her purse, fishing out her ringing phone. "Well, Jason, I assume that Astoria can take it from here," she said, clasping her hands. "There's an art auction near the Louvre today, and a piece I have had my eye on for quite some time is finally on the market. Bye darling," she said, quickly embracing me before sending a sly smile to Jason. "Lovely to see the both of you." She winked, answering her call, sauntering off.
