Chapter - Two
1155 Words
Aleena POV
My eyes were glued to the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard as I coded a behavioral model for human psychology research.
An error popped up again. Frustration clawed at my nerves.
I never mess up. So what the hell happened?
“Sis!”
Before I could react, Eleanor yanked me out of my chair and wrapped me in a bear hug.
I hugged her back, patting her wavy brown hair automatically. Then it hit me. She shouldn’t be here.
“El, what are you doing here?” I asked, pulling back.
She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s the first thing you say to me? Not ‘I missed you so much, El!’ or ‘Wow, my gorgeous sister is here!”
“I did miss you, okay? But I told you to stay away from the Caruso estate.”
I gave her a pointed look. I could already feel Caldwell’s watchful gaze burning into my back.
“I promised I wouldn’t set foot here,” she said, lowering her voice, “but Dad said I shouldn’t miss my sister’s engagement.”
I sighed. Of course. Dad emotionally guilt-tripped her. I should’ve known. I’d been so wrapped up in my work, I let it slip.
“I had to come,” she whispered. “So you like Nico? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I couldn’t tell her the truth.
“Yeah. I like him,” I lied smoothly. “But he doesn’t like me. I’ve got to win him over.”
“Wait. This is a one-sided love and an arranged marriage?” Eleanor stared at me. “Sis.”
“Something like that,” I muttered.
Her eyes lit up. “Then I’m definitely helping you get him. First things first you need a makeover. This nerdy vibe you’ve got going on? The glasses, the bun? Not working.”
“I like the nerd look,” I said. “And I don’t mind showing up to the engagement like this.”
“Did you at least pick out a dress?”
“No. I’m just gonna wear one of Mom’s old gowns. The one that still fits.”
“You’re kidding.” She frowned. “Do you really like Nico?”
“Yeah,” I said again.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “Sis. You’re beautiful, but you’re hiding it. Don’t let this be some sad love story.”
“What’s wrong with how I look now?”
“Nothing’s wrong, okay?” she said, trying to be diplomatic, but I knew her. Eleanor could verbally destroy anyone who dared wear
last season’s shoes. She worshiped the Kardashians like they were gods.
“You just have to be versatile, sis. Adapt. You’d be surprised how far a killer look can get you out of things.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Like speeding tickets?”
She smirked, guilty. We both knew how that went.
I followed her out, Caldwell’s quiet footsteps behind us like a shadow. Eleanor gave me a curious glance over her shoulder.
“Dad hired a bodyguard,” I explained flatly.
Her eyes widened. “Well, he’s hot,” she whispered with a grin.
“You have a boyfriend,” I reminded her.
Her smile faltered for a second, but then she shook it off and grabbed my arm, practically skipping toward the car.
“I’m driving,” she announced.
The chauffeur stepped aside, and we climbed in, me in the front, Caldwell in the back, silent as ever.
“Let’s go shopping!” she shouted, her energy filling the car. She drove like a lunatic, speeding through the roads with her usual thrill-seeking recklessness. But it didn’t scare me. The rush of wind through the window made me feel awake.
Alive!
She dragged me into an upscale boutique, tossing dresses at me like we were playing fashion dodgeball.
I couldn’t say no to El.
Eventually, I stepped out in a stunning, elegant burgundy gown, sheer in just the right places, with a fitted bodice and flowing skirt.
Eleanor gasped. “Damn, sis. You’ve been hiding all that under your baggy hoodies?”
She snapped a photo before I could stop her.
I caught Caldwell’s eyes flicking toward me from across the room. He was scanning the perimeter like a good little soldier, but I knew he looked before I noticed.
Asshole.
We stopped at a salon for hair, nails, and, ugh, makeup training. They gave me a “butterfly” haircut, or something like that, and taught me how to contour. I picked it up fast, but the whole thing gave me a headache.
“Did you have fun?” she asked afterward.
“No. I miss my laptop and my code.”
She groaned. “Lucky me. I’m here one day before your engagement and trying to save your life from total fashion death. You know the media’s going to be everywhere tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes. Outwardly, we looked like the Caruso family, owners of a global chain of high-end stores. Behind closed doors, we ran an empire of blood, money, and silence.
“You’re my savior, El,” I muttered.
“You better be thanking me, not mocking me.”
“Honestly, El, if you weren’t here, I’d be a total wreck.” I wiped fake tears under my eyes and clutched my chest in my best Khloé Kardashian impression.
“You saved my life. I’m okay. I’m okay.”
El snorted. “Drama queen.” Then her smile faded a little.
“I missed your dumb Kardashian impressions,” she whispered. “I hate being alone in London.”
“I missed you too,” I said softly, resting my hand on hers over the gear shift.
Then I looked at her, eyes narrowing. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been masking something this whole time. You’re smiling, but your eyes are screaming. Spill.”
She smiled, but her eyes betrayed her.
“I’m twenty years old. I can handle myself.”
“Well, I’m twenty-six. And I can handle anyone who messes with you. So talk.”
She hesitated. Then her voice cracked.
“I broke up with Brandon.”
I felt something dark stir in my chest. “Did he cheat on you?”
“No. He found out the truth about our family. What we really are. He freaked. Said he couldn’t handle it.”
“Coward,” I muttered.
“Exactly. If he couldn’t handle the truth, he didn’t deserve me.”
“He’s a loser, El. A man who won’t fight for love is useless.”
“Damn right.”
I glanced over at her. “So, should we celebrate your breakup with drinks?”
“Yes, please.” El wiped her tears and smiled.
- Writer
