Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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WALKING INTO HELENA CHAPMAN'S SPRAWLING manor home, Anakin was immediately assaulted by the rush of bodies bathed in expensive perfume and a resounding bass that banged against his very skull.
The makeup on his face didn't help either. Matthew had convinced his sister to do it.
Of course, Anakin had seen Atalanta several times as she waltzed into the warehouse to presumably argue with her younger brother about his career. They'd never spoken before though, until earlier today when he'd sat in Matthew's childhood living room, in his sprawling estate home that lay next to Freya's, and let the lawyer to be paint half of his face.
It was as clear as day that Matthew's sister did not like him all that much, possibly because he was a part of the world that she disapproved of. Meanwhile, there was no sign of Matthew's mother in that huge house.
Needless to say, Anakin's day wasn't going well.
His scowl was instantly on his face as he looked sharply at Matthew.
"Save your complaints for later, Anakin," sighed Matthew, noting his already uncomfortable demeanour.
Anakin kept his mouth shut and followed Matthew into the crowd, Grayson somewhere nearby.
A few half-glazed, drunken gazes passed over them as their bodies swayed to a chaotic beat that felt more like noise than music to Anakin. Some of them would not remember their own names by the time the night was over.
The room looked to be a grand foyer, though Anakin wasn't entirely sure, since it was so encapsulated by bodies. And still, more bodies spilled through the house, out into a back garden Anakin could glimpse in the distance. Exactly how many people did Helena Chapman know?
Growing up with Kirova, he'd witnessed his fair share of luxury get-togethers. Crisp suits and shiny shoes and empty, saccharine smiles. This, however, was of different proportions. It was the same luxury, multiplied by a thousand, and it was wasted on teenagers who did not know the difference between a hug and Chanel bag.
