Condemned to an unhappy marriage by her father Emerald Davidson finds herself in quite the shitty situation, only to find help from someone who's no better. She trades one deal for another, but is oblivious to what that other deal is exactly until i...
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Emerald Davidson's POV
The first thing I noticed when I had finally managed to drag myself out of bed was a very hungover Dan sleeping on the couch. I was having a bad day, but considering the incoherent mumbling that left his lips when I tried to wake him I took it his was going to be even worse. He was obviously still drunk. On the bright side, the date had probably been a great success, then.
The second thing I noticed was a white envelope that was laying on the counter, right next to the one Ian had left for me last night. The handwriting on this one was a lot fancier, though, and it had a stamp that indicated it was actually delivered here by the mailman rather than tossed in the mailbox in a rushed manner. Still, I was surprised anyone would send my mail to this address. Technically - and starting today again, in fact - I was still living at Ian's house.
"Emilio?"
I called for Riva's bodyguard, but a grunt from the guest bedroom made it clear that the man wasn't ready to get up yet. It didn't seem very professional, but at the same time I couldn't blame him. I hadn't heard him go to sleep, which meant it had had to be well over four o'clock when he had finally accepted my offer of a decent bed, It was only seven in the morning yet. The poor guy deserved a few more good hours of sleep for saving me the night before.
With a cup of coffee firmly lodged in my hand I reached for the white piece of paper. It felt heavy, but not like a there's-an-shitty-apology-gift-inside heavy. More like a we-use-hella-expensive-paper heavy, if I had to guess.
With shaking hands due to my hangover I opened it. It was a miracle really that I hadn't woken up with a Russian accent, given the amount of vodka I had downed last night. It had been ages since I had drank that much, and I instantly remembered why. Even though I could handle my alcohol pretty well and didn't get too drunk most of the time, the morning-afters were still pure hell. It was like I had the tolerance of a heavy-weight truck driver with the liver capacity of a fifty year old housewife; getting properly fucked-up at night proved expensive, but feeling fucked in the morning was an absolute given.
You are hereby formally invited to attend this year's Black Christmas party, hosted by the Riva famiglia, was the first thing the letter said. The words were written in some kind of fancy curly font, but the upper edge of the invitation had a small decoration with the silhouette of a stripper on it. Never trashy, Always classy, was written beneath it in thin cursive letters.
Location: The Grand Paradiso Hotel
Arrival: 08:00 pm Rooms will be available for free, but only upon reservation, for those who need accommodation
The rest of the page was filled with gift idea's, dress codes, and some more information about the party, and the date was set on this Friday. When I pulled the entire letter from the envelope a small second piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
