Paint Me Saved ✓ Book 1

1. Hey stranger

Miami, USA

Six months before that day

Zemira

The pale hue from the chandelier and the melody of the orchestra flooded the hall but my mind was in complete chaos. The scent of warm vanilla and cinnamon from the dessert trays being carried around churned my stomach.

My attention was divided between checking my silent phone and witnessing my best friend's crucifixion ceremony.

Kiera Dales, the bride who chirped like a schoolgirl while mingling with her guests, came out of her closet a while back, only to be shoved back in. The Dales – Kiera's oil tycoon family - threatened to disown her if she didn't adhere to their dictatorial regime.

Within months, the family had preserved their reputation by getting her engaged to Jake Donavan - the charming, grey-eyed billionaire who was the CEO of Miami's largest financial holding company and her beard.

And now here I was, preparing to 'celebrate' my best friend's nuptials.

Kiera adjusted her whitish, body-hugging gown, as she worked her way towards me.

"There you are, Zemmy." Intertwining our arms, she smiled. "I want a photo with my Maid of Honor."

As she tucked brunette wisps away from her perfect jawline, I felt her silent lament yearning to be set free. Even gallons of foundation couldn't mask it.

"You know how I feel about photos, right?" Having struggled for twenty-two years of my life under the unnerving flicker of cameras and paparazzi's bellows for a snap, I refused to smile for one now. "Kiera, I can't imagine what you must be going through."

"Don't worry about me, Zem." Kiera peered at my hideous lavender outfit. "Sometimes we have to make sacrifices so our businesses can flourish."

Like Kiera's feigned heterosexuality, our hotel business pretended to be doing fine; pretended it didn't require any help. It was a matter of months before the stamp of bankruptcy imprinted our ledgers.

With one phone call, all the tension I felt underneath my skin could fade.

He should have called by now.

"You know what?" Kiera held my shoulders, rattling me. "I think you haven't had enough of that liquid courage. Let your hair down, Zem. Be a bad girl for once."

"Baby..." Another voice interrupted us. Jake, Kiera's husband, walked over with a smile drawn across his face. "Our guests are getting antsy. How about we mingle with them for a bit?"

Lending me a tight smile of her own, Kiera accepted his arm and walked away.

Adhering to my friend's command, I sat at the bar to drown my issues by consuming my body weight in alcohol.

After an hour or so, my phone chimed. Escaping the merriment that roared in the background, I rushed outside the ballroom.

You can do this.

The man on the other end of the call sported a low, rumbling voice. Polite enough, yet intimidating. "Good evening, Zemira."

"Good evening, Antonio. Did you get a chance to look at my proposal?" I asked, palming the speaker to mask the sound of my heavy breathing and disguise my state of drunkenness.

"Yes," Antonio Brenton - the media mogul said, "Your buyout proposal would be beneficial for both our companies."

Being the daughter of an immigrant, I knew a thing or two about hard work and perseverance. Dad built up our hotels, irrigating them with his blood, sweat and years of his life he would never get back. Ford Hotel was Dad's first child, so I took it upon myself to save my brick-and-mortar sibling.