Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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IT WAS THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER.
And Freya Arsov was lounging loftily on one of the plush armchairs at the trendy Beverly Hills coffee shop. Mayella had brought her here to conclude their final summer day in California, a duo of caffeine-rich drinks between them on the artsy tabletop.
After spending the entire summer nursing tans and enjoying the Californian lifestyle that Mayella Vance had grown up in, she and her long-time friend, Freya Arsov, were not ready to go back to England where their elite boarding school, Arrowsmith Insitute for Excellency, was located.
Though, no one was ever really ready to trade their summer lives of parties, jets and designer dresses for Arrowsmith's brick walls and school uniform and the ever-absent English sun that shied away from their campus.
Mayella observed her friend's pensive expression that bordered on glorious boredom as she conversed through her Dior encased iPhone with her mother. Freya held the phone precariously between French-manicured fingers, almost as though she wanted the phone to drop and the conversation with her mother, Lady Victoria Calvert, to end. Which would not be too surprising, given the state of Freya and her mother's relationship.
"Yes, mother," drawled Freya languorously, with an extensive eye roll, her black eyelashes fluttering with the action.
Although the dainty platinum blonde girl sat opposite Mayella, with a table between them, Mayella could make out the irritated comments from Victoria Calvert-Arsov through the phone as she scolded her daughter for heaven knew what.
As she sipped from her iced caramel latte, Mayella could come up with roughly twenty or so things Victoria could rant to Freya about. More, if she thought long enough.
Freya Arsov was no angel.
Her mother was an English aristocrat, Lady Victoria Calvert, who now served as one of the greatest lawyers out there. If her mother's money wasn't enough, Freya's father was a Russian billionaire, the inheritor of a blooming international business called Arsov Industries.
Their daughter, Mayella's best friend, was determined to annoy them to death, Maye was sure.
Perhaps she sought to get her hands on all that wealth a little earlier and felt some good old fashioned parricide by sarcasm would do the trick.
At her mother's words, sounding completely and utterly done to Maye's ears with, Freya only grinned triumphantly, as though whatever her mother intoned was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her, as though she'd wanted to upset her mother to the brink of insanity and had succeeded. Freya grinned a wicked grin throughout the entire stretching barrage, remaining silent and listening.
Maye knew better than to think that meant Freya was being a well-behaved daughter. There was too much mischief in her eyes. Too much trouble in the tilt of her lipgloss-coated lips.
