Spearcrest Rose (SPEARCREST KINGS) by Aurora Reed EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Aurora Reed
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Moët Misery
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WHO NEEDS THERAPY WHEN they have champagne and couture?
That’s why I sit on my bedroom floor in vintage Vivienne Westwood and
gilded Gucci pumps, a bottle of Moet in my fist and tears running down my
face.
Another day, another argument with my father. Because apparently,
sending me away for seven years wasn’t enough for him. Forcing me to
leave my friends behind, to give up New York—the heart of fashion, art and
culture—in favour of the most uptight and boring country in the world.
Forcing me to adapt to the depressing British weather, stupid British
spelling and dry, annoying British humour—none of it matters to my father.
After spending my childhood and adolescence obeying his every wish
and whim, he has the gall to turn around and refuse to let me choose my
own future.
“You’re not wasting your time in fashion school, Seraphina!” Robert
Rosenthal screamed at me through the phone ten minutes earlier. “I’ve had
enough of this stupid idea! If you want to spend every cent of your trust
fund on clothes, then do that, but I’m not letting you waste time and money
on some silly fashion school! You’re going to stop these childish dreams,
get a proper degree, and get to work, just like I did when I was your age.”
“Silly fashion school?” Even though I wanted to, I didn’t dare scream
back. I know my father well—he’s perfectly capable of cutting me off for
something as petty as not liking the volume of my voice during a phone
conversation. “I’m applying to the London College of Fashion! It’s only the
best place in the world to study fashion.”
“Clothes are for wearing, not studying,” my father snapped. “I refuse to
let you become yet another vapid New York heiress with a failed fashion
line. You’re better than that—the Rosenthal name is better than that.”
Fuck the Rosenthal name, I wanted to say.
There’s a reason my mom didn’t want it. There’s a reason she left and
never came back, and there’s a reason my father had two more failed
marriages after she left.
The Rosenthal name isn’t the privilege and honour he thinks it is.
It’s a curse.
But I was too scared to say any of this to him.
“Please, daddy,” I said instead in my most pitiful voice. “I just want to do
what I love.”
“Doing what you love is a hobby, not a career,” he replied. “Most people
can’t afford an education—do you think I’m going to let you waste time
and money on a whim?”
“But it’s not a whim.”
“The matter is closed, Seraphina. You’re not going.”
“Please, can we discuss it, if I—”
“If you want to discuss it, we can talk after the Siddal Gallery Gala.”
I roll my eyes, thankful he can’t see me. The Siddal Gallery in London is
one of the many artistic and educational institutions my father patrons to
make himself seem less like a soulless Wall Street shark.
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