Lies Twist The Way We Think

Chapter 30 - Take the bait

Keep your chin high.
Smile. Fucking smile, Camille.
Be confident, but not too confident.
Be kind, but not naïve.
Don't reveal too much, but don't be too closed off.

"If you recall," Alisa says, "I arranged for your debut in society to take place quite soon in an attempt to do damage control."

"Someone tried to shoot me." I emphasise that for sympathy points. "Can't I get a week of peace for once?"

But my personal hell is relentless. "You got your peace, Camille. We're going shopping to prepare you for your first interview."

I frown, stopping my pacing. At this point, I'll run holes in the ground. "I have an entire mall in my closet, Alisa. Why the fuck do I need more clothes?"

She doesn't bat an eye at my cursing. "You," she says, "will be going shopping with Theadora Calligaris and a dozen reporters will be informed of this."

Ah, so that's the real reason I'm going shopping. Public image. Show that I'm alive.

The boutique Alisa chose for this carefully choreographed outing is the kind of store that has only one copy of each dress. They closed the entire shop down for me. Lovely, really.

I lean back in my seat, ignoring Thea's obvious glances towards me gracefully. I count to ten, which is when she decides to break the silence.

"What did you do to Grayson Hawthorne?"

I almost choke, and the only reason I don't is because Alisa had me sitting in a chair three hours with multiple designers preparing my make up and clothes for this singular shopping trip and I don't want to anger her by dying. "What do you mean?"

Thea rolls her eyes— classic, I suppose— and leans closer. "He's oh-so-clearly miserable and doesn't show up to dinner, and I can only assume it's because of you."

I frown. "I didn't do shit, Thea." That earns me a raised eyebrow from Alisa. She doesn't care what I speak about, but apparently cursing is a no-go as a high member of society. "Why do you even care?"

But we've already reached out destination, and one of my bodyguards opens the door for me. I hear the roars of the reporters and let out a sigh.

"Smile pretty," Thea says, and then I'm being led inside. I put on my careful smile, the one Alisa calls "mysterious and classy", whatever that means, and then I'm finally inside, away from the prying eyes.

C. R. D. - M. L. T.

"Green." Thea pulled an evening gown from the rack. "Emerald, to match your eyes."

"Grateful, thank you," I answer flatly. Turning to the sales attendant, I ask, "Do you have anything that covers my stomach?" And my stitches, I add silently, glancing at Alisa, who immediately understands. Thea watches the interaction suspiciously.

"You heard Ms. Diante," Alisa says firmly. "And Thea is right—bring us something green."

We leave a beautiful green dress I didn't even try on. The paparazzi snap their pictures as Oren ushers the lot of us back into the SUV. As we pull away from the curb, he glances in the rearview mirror. "Seat belts buckled?"

"Yes," I murmur. Beside me, Thea fastens hers.

"Have you thought about hair and make up yet?" The asks, and the question feels ridiculous. But she doesn't know about the shooting, or any of the dangerous things and threats.

"I can't wait for your advice on the matter," I retort, and she seems satisfied with the answer.

Without warning, the car swerves. My body kicks into panic mode—fight or flight, and neither one of them is an option, strapped into the back seat. I whip my head toward Oren, who is driving—and notice that the guard in the passenger seat has his hand on his gun, vigilant, ready.