Lost in a Reverie 18+ Only (Book 1 of Lastor Series) ['23/'24 EDIT]

Chapter 3

After our meal, the guests gathered back to the great hall and continued with their boring affair of passive gloating as they flaunted their respective wealth back and forth. Some couples took to the dance floor as the string quartet performed livelier music while the bachelorettes either watched in envy or attempted to bag a bachelor who was more or less interested in them. At least for the night.

There were a lot of vices to enjoy when you're a young, rich, well-bred, and single man in New York, one of those was the women. The only guy who never let himself taste such vices, let alone enjoy them, was my brother. One of the most eligible bachelors in the world and every socialite's dream boat.

He was surrounded by the desperate vultures and it was the only entertaining spectacle of this night, watching him get dragged to the dance floor by a successive roster of beautiful women and looking like he wanted to run away after the fifth number but was far too polite to reject a lady. Alas, he was saved by my father cutting off the music, much to my dismay.

"Vivien, darling, where are you?" I heard him call, turning around and about in the middle of the crowd with his back to a pile of gifts. The guests laughed in unison, humoring my father.

I was sitting at the top of the stairs, out of sight. My feet hurt too much and I didn't think I could have carried on another conversation without fainting while being suffocated by the wretched dress I was strapped into.

"I'm here. I'm here," I slurred as I stood, the wine and champagne starting to go into effect.

Jude came up to help me down, steadying me as he looped our arms together. I smiled at the guests when we reached the middle of the crowd that gathered around my father.

"It's time to open your gifts, darling!" he announced, grabbing my arm and giving it a firm grip, too firm for my comfort.

"Wonderful," I said as he led me to a chair and pushed my shoulders down so I could sit.

"Largest to smallest, I guess," Father directed at the guests and they laughed even more. He turned to me, handing me a box cutter. "Careful now."

I smiled, slipping my pocket knife from between my cleavage and whipping the blade out. I chuckled at the gasps and wide stares I got from the guests. I took the first box from the maid and read the card aloud.

"Every princess deserves a crown."

It was from Andre Gustav, the man I was officially in a relationship with and whom had no qualms feeding the public by making grandiose displays of affection. I couldn't stand the guy.

I tore the box open with a swift slash of my knife and unfolded the satin cloth wrapped around the diamond tiara. I dropped the thing back into the box, revolted by the gruesome image in my head of mining slaves bleeding, dying, and starving for this useless piece of crap. It was one thing to be forced to wear diamonds out of duty but to own such a thing was just beyond any despicable thing I could ever be capable of doing willingly. Fuck that shit.

While I was on the verge of vomiting, awed gasps and mumbling erupted from the crowd as they gossiped in hushed voices about how many karats the tiara was and that Andre's grandmother had worn this when she married the King of some insignificant European nation and then they started talking about how this might be a hint to Andre and I's supposed future nuptials. The man in question was approaching me, smiling his handsome smile. When he took the tiara and placed it atop my head, I wanted to cut his handsome face into pieces.

"Beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to kiss my cheek.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, embracing him. "I'm going to stab you if you don't get that thing off my fucking head," I whispered in his ear.