Chapter 7 RAVENSCROFT'S NEW QUEEN?
SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.
We'd stepped out into the sharp evening air, and my phone buzzed in the pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out to see a notification in the school's gossip column.
With one glance at the screen, my stomach flipped, and I did summersaults, backflips, and all sorts of exercises, as my food came back up.
The boutique clerk hadn’t wasted a second; the picture was already on the school's gossip feed, with the caption in bold black print:
“Ravenscroft’s New Queen?”
In the photo, Lucien and I stood facing each other, my red dress painted like sin under the boutique lights while I was still dressed in it, and the second was at the desk where Lucien collected the dress. Judging by the flood of comments already pouring in, neither did anyone else. There was also a picture of the boutique's logo on the front page.
Everyone in school would know by now, or at least tonight, that Lucien had taken me shopping.
Roxanne's comment below sent both a smile and a chill up my spine.
'This has to be a joke.' She commented with angry emojis.
Matt, on the other hand, commented on the icon of eyeballs as well as a full stop.
Lucien glanced at the screen over my shoulder and grinned, slow and merciless. With an expression of pride on his face. “Let them choke.”
Somewhere in the upper-class neighborhood in Westridge, I could feel Roxanne seeing this, and I knew she’d be at that party tonight, with an appetite for revenge.
"Wait...what if she gets a better dress than this?" I asked, and we stopped in our tracks at the realisation that the picture of my dress was on display.
Lucien looked at me in realization, and swiftly, he pulled me into the store again.
"We can't have that, can we?" He mumured as he pulled me through the doors.
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The ride to Harrow Estate was a blur of city lights and my own reflection in the tinted window of Lucien's limosuine. . I couldn’t stop looking at myself, the new dress Lucien and I had picked out earlier was black.
It shone against the night sky as the light of the moon radiated on it. It wasn’t just a dress, it felt like a declaration of war.
The black dress clung to my skin like it had become a part of my very DNA, it hugged my curves in a way that made modesty bleed. With it's backless design, my curves were further on display, as it revealed exactly what I hid under my baggy clothes all these years at Ravenscroft High.
It's thin, delicate straps framed my shoulders before plunging into a low, backless sweep that left my skin bare all the way to the curve of my spine.
I remmebered the way Lucien's eyes lit up with desire after I'd turned for him to see as he'd instructed. When he pushed the dress into my hands, I had had no idea of what he saw in it; not untill I saw the way he looked at me, and the way the dress looked on me in the floor length mirror in the boutique.
The slit up my left leg would be the final insult to Roxanne's injury.
Lucien had said Roxanne would burn at the sight of it; and so would Matt. It was high enough that one wrong move could flash anyone. Paired with the black, razor-sharp stilettos Lucien chose, I looked like a weapon he crafted himself.
I looked like nothing I remembered;, the hair Lucien insisted I let the stylist “fix,” was now in beautiful waves that fell to my back in deep curls, the heels felt like they could double as weapons as they dug into my toes, making my feet ache. I looked like someone who belonged in his limosuine.
Like someone who belonged in his world.
Except I didn’t.
The gates to Harrow swung open before the car even stopped. The gravel crunched under the tires as we swept up the long, winding driveway toward the sprawling mansion that looked more like a stadium than a house. It's party lights, and the music blasting on the inside, coupled with the cheers of the people made goosebumps line up my arms as I suddenly got nervous.
I could see that there were already rows of expensive cars lining the lawn, Lamborghinis, Ferraris, a vintage Rolls-Royce I’d only seen in magazines and t.v shows; It was like a car show for the one percent of Westridge.
The moment Lucien parked, my pulse spiked. Music thumped faintly through the cold night air, mingling with the glittering laughter spilling from the open balcony doors above us.
The driver parked the car, and out the window, I could see Lucien heading this way, as he crossed the road, and went round the car to my side like this was a red-carpet premiere. When I stepped out, the cool air of the night sky bit at my bare legs.
He stretched his hand out to me, and I placed my cold hand in his. The feel of his warm palm on my cold one sent another wave of electricity up my arm, reminding me of the sparks from earlier.
"Ready?" He asked, his permanant smirk on his face as he stood before me, dressed in an outfit that showcased his awesome figure.
I nodded, and took in a deep breath. He intertwined our hands together, and pulled me along.
Inside, the Harrow Estate’s ballroom was a riot of crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed walls, and the faint scent of money disguised as white roses. The moment we walked in, it was like I was charged with electricity as dozens of people turned to look at us, cutting their conversations mid-sentence as they stared at us in shock.
Most of them had their eyes on me. The boys looked at me like they wanted to have a feel of me, as their eyes swept over my exposed curves; the girls looked at me like they wished they could set me on fire.
Glancing around the room with false disinterest, I saw her.
Roxanne.
She stood across the room in a shortdress that probably cost more than my dad’s annual salary, and left nothing to the imagination as her boobs were out on full display. The second she saw me, her smile faltered in shock. She looked at my dress with an expression as sharp as knives.
Matt lingered by her side, with his hand casually resting on the small of her back, but like the rest of the room, his eyes were traitorous, shameless as they slid over to me.
The sight made heat curl in my stomach, as my lips curled up in a snarl.
Lucien’s grip tightened ever so slightly on my hand as he leaned in, his lips brushed my ear like a caress. “Smile.” He whispered softly.
So I did.
I smiled like I owned the place, like I wasn’t dying inside, like I didn’t want to rip the smug expression off Roxanne’s face, and the heated one on Matt's.
We moved through the crowd wordlessly, every step of ours left a silent declaration that I was here with Lucien Ravenscroft. Every camera phone we passed lifted as girls started filming us for the school gossip page, as everyone whispered among themselves.
Halfway across the room, Roxanne intercepted us with Mat still on her arm like a lapdog.
“Well,” she purred, her eyes sweeping over me like I was a questionable fashion choice, her voice dripped with condescion as she stared at me like I was a roach she wanted to squash.
“Lucien, I didn’t know you’d be bringing…” Her lips curved in a fake-sweet smile. “This.”
My smile didn’t falter. “You didn’t know a lot of things, Roxanne. Shocking, I know.”
The flash in her eyes was immediate at my response. It was quick, sharp, and delicious. It left a satisfying taste in my mouth as she looked at me in shock. No longer was I the Sloane she used to walk all over.
Lucien chuckled low in his throat as he smiled with amusement, like this was all exactly the entertainment he came for. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said, his tone polite but lethal. He didn’t wait for her reply before steering me toward the marble staircase.
Something no one but him had ever done to her.
At the top of the stairs, Lucien leaned close enough for his breath to warm my skin. “You handled that well.”
“I wasn’t going to let her get away with that.” I replied, and he nodded with satisfaction.
“Good.” He said as his gaze raked over me one more time, slow and deliberate. “Because this is just the first round.”