𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱

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EVELYN SWORE SHE never rolled her eyes more than when she was surrounded by socialites – the same people who now regarded her with a mere ounce of respect used to look down and spit at her family for who they were and she hated it.

The gala was held at an art gallery in the middle of London – the place where all the richest of society lived. Clinging to Richard's arm, Evelyn felt herself visibly cringe when the man turned his head – whispering in her ear.

"I never got to tell you how breathtaking you look, Miss Shelby," he removed her arm from his to wrap it around her waist – way too low for her liking. 

Evelyn pushed back her disgusted feelings towards the man and his touch, reminding herself that she was doing this for all the effort that Tommy put in to try to get her the speakeasy. But most importantly, she was doing it for herself and her aspirations. 

"Thank you, Mr Klein," Evelyn politely responded, letting him lead her around the gallery full of paintings that were far more expensive than she would like to think about. 

Clutching her purse, Evelyn pretended to listen as Richard explained something he found interesting about a particular painting or the artists – humming along in agreement when needed although she knew next-to-nothing about the topics at hand. 

Richard and Evelyn walked around the hall before he led them both past a curtain – pulling them into a room full of life. A gasp left Evelyn's lips at the sight of women dressed in nothing walked around the room serving drinks to wealthy couples who were all sat around a table. 

"Not what you were expecting?" Richard chuckled, walking down the first few steps before offering his hand to the girl frozen at the top of the stairs. 

"Definitely not what I was expecting from socialites," Evelyn's eyes were wide as one of the naked women walked past her and winked – she quickly grabbed Richard's hand as he laughed at her reaction.  

The man weaved them both through to an empty table set for two – pulling out her chair as Evelyn took a hesitant seat, her eyes darting around the bustling environment. 

"I take it that your speakeasy is going to be more modest, Miss Shelby," Richard slyly smirked, taking the seat opposite Evelyn.

At his words, a woman carrying a tray of drinks walked over to their table – leaning over to let them take the glasses. Evelyn's eyes quickly averted to the blank wall beside her; the action causing Richard to burst into loud laughter.

"You're meant to look, love," he grinned, watching as the barmaid left their table with a wink. "They don't mind."

"Still seems disrespectful," Evelyn muttered, picking up her glass of what smelt like a Boulevardier. The taste was bitter on her tongue and Evelyn tried not to spit it out – she liked whiskey, but hated it mixed with other alcohol.

The pair set in relative silence as people came up to Richard, greeting him energetically while introducing themselves to Evelyn – disgust evident on their faces when she spoke her last name.

The Shelby woman felt her attention drifting as she sat in the chair – becoming restless from how long she had been in the same spot. Noticing Richard animately chatting to a group of men who had all pulled up chairs around him, Evelyn stood and began to push her way through the crowd until she was back in the main foyer of the gallery.

Taking a deep breath, she found herself walking a lap around the gallery – this time paying more attention to particular portraits of people she assumed had high importance in a rich society; until she came across a painting that caught her eye.

𝐞𝐠𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 · 𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬Where stories live. Discover now