Fashion Disaster

Chapter 7

(Adrian's P.O.V.) 

     I could hear the classical music before I even entered the building. When I opened the door I was greeted by a gust of warm, calming air; the music now flooding my ears until it, and some chatter from nearby people, were the only things I heard. Luis trailed silently behind me, not saying a word. Ever since our rather awkward exchange at the shops he had spoken even less frequently. 

     There were tables adorned with plates of food like sweets such as chocolate drizzled strawberries, delectable appetizers and mini-cakes. Most everyone was gathered around there: the women wearing long, elegant gowns and the men in crisp, newly-tailored tuxedos. I smiled and nodded in greeting only to receive a polite smile or nod in return. 

     "Oh, Adrian. There you are." 

     I had to stifle a groan when I saw who was calling my name. A woman, roughly 7 years older than I, had her *fake* blonde locks nervously twirled around her finger. Her dress was a startling shade of pink, her waist pinched in so tight with what must be a corset. 

     "How are you, Marinette?" I said, never one to forget my manners; no matter how badly I ached to. 

     "Is your father here tonight?" Her lips perked up into a sly, devious smile and I fought the urge to gag. 

     "No." I turned to leave but felt a slight tug on my sleeve, forcing me to look back. "What is it, Marinette?" 

     "Will he be here later tonight?" 

     I jerked out of her grasp, annoyance forcing a scowl on my face. "He is not coming, okay? And he has no interest in dating you or whatever, so please just stop before you make an even bigger fool of yourself." 

     "Well..." She paused, lips pursing in what she must've hoped was a seductive manner, "are you interested?" 

     I stalked away before Luis would have to hold me back from blowing up at the woman. Honestly, I thought I'd be used to dealing with women like her by now; people just after you for the money, the fame. But still it sickens me. No matter how much money they may already have, or how many possessions they already own, it is never enough for people such as her. They must dig their manicured nails into the even richer and claw their way up further. 

     Thinking about how such people lived in luxury while I once sat rotting away in a poor, hardly funded adoption agency sent chills of anger through me. 

     I took a deep breath. I needed to compose myself. I couldn't breakdown; not here, not now. 

      "Hey, Adrian! There you are!" Lola bounded up to me like an over-excited puppy, smile lightening her features. Ms. Sinclair's granddaughter was behind her glancing sheepishly around, cheeks rosy from something a little more than the blush. 

     "Lola." 

     She rolled her eyes. "Ew. Stiff as usual. Learn to live a little. I mean, we're literally at a party right now and you still have your business face on." 

     I opened my mouth to retort but Alice quickly interjected, once embarrassed expression now amused; pinkened lips lifting into a warm smile. "Because this is technically a business party, Lola. Did you not hear Grandmother's lecture on how you should be on your best behavior? She practically preached the whole way here." 

     "Yah, yah. Important people will be watching—blah, blah, blah. What a bore. And this music? So 16th century." 

     I lifted a brow. "I quite like this music, actually. It's calming and sets the serious mood." I sent her a pointed look, hoping she got my jab at her. But judging by the carelessness in which she still held herself, she didn't.