Lost Boys by Eva Ashwood EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Eva Ashwood
- ISBN: B07SQNF7BB
- Language: English
- Genre: New Adult & College Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Page: 310
- Price: Free
TWELVE O’CLOCK, pre-dinner preparations underway. Guest rooms
cleaned, first course prepped.
Three o’clock, grounds inspected, driveway tidied, decorations begin
Five o’clock, Mom and Dad prepare for the evening, dressed and
groomed for greeting guests.
Six o’clock, guests arrive. Cordelia begins getting ready. Cocktails
served downstairs in main hall.
Seven o’clock, Cordelia downstairs. Pre-dinner socializing.
The itinerary repeated in my head: twelve, three, five, six, seven. Mom
always liked our dinners running smoothly—and for my mother, that meant
every minute, every second, was planned down to the letter, every ‘i’
dotted, every ‘t’ crossed and absolutely nothing out of place.
Least of all, me.
I sat in my room at my vanity, the sounds of orchestral strings and
tinkling brass drifting up from downstairs where my mother and father’s
guests were surely sipping from flutes of expensive wine, helping
themselves to hors d’oeuvres, and talking amongst themselves about their
next big investment or whose heiress daughter was going to marry their
It was a scene I was intimately familiar with. After all, this had been my
life for the last seventeen years.
I’d been born into this world, and I knew my place in it. As the only
child of Elizabeth and Gideon van Rensselaer, I was to remain poised and
proper at all times, with never a hair out of place, a lash uncurled, nor a
stray comment from my mouth that could bring some unspoken shame to
my parents. I was the perfect vessel to carry on the family legacy; the only
thing that could’ve made me more perfect in my parents’ eyes was if I had
been born a boy.
“There we go Ms. Cora. Ah, aren’t you stunning?”
Ava stepped out from behind me, examining me with satisfaction. She’d
been with my parents for as long as I could remember. A kind woman in her
forties, her fawn-brown hair was always pulled back in a thick bun, and her
warm, round face wore a smile that could melt the coldest of demeanors.
In some ways, she was like a second mother to me. She had taught me
how to tie my shoes and how to braid my own hair—before my actual
mother had declared braids too “common”. When I’d started my period, she
was the one I’d gone to, and the one who’d gone out of her way to make
sure I had everything I needed to weather that particular storm. I talked to
her about boys, because it was just… easier. Knowing my mother, it wasn’t
hard to see why.
I smiled at her in the reflection and looked at her handiwork. My hair
fell in thick blonde ringlets around my face, which was lightly made up
with just the right amount of product to highlight my natural features.
Heavy makeup, according to my mother, was gauche.
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