I had the name of a porn star—Lourde Diamond— seriously, Mom and Dad, thanks a lot.
The only difference between me and said porn star was my bank balance.
We were wealthy. Well, my family was rich—old money.
My dad, like his daddy and his daddy before him, were media moguls, owning the greatest media empire in North America.
Their wives were hand-picked from note‐ worthy families and perfectly curated—primed, aristocratic, well-mannered, and relentless in playing their part and owning their duty.
At eighteen, that’s where my life was headed. It was abundantly clear by dearest Momma, being the perfect wife was an achievement one must uphold.
Since maids helped me learn to walk, they had groomed me for the day when it would be my turn to become a wife.
Etiquette, posture, finishing school, every other class, you name it, I’d done it. Perfect in every part.
I was waiting to be introduced to the perfect partner from a prestigious family, of course. Old money, preferably, as Momma would say.
Did I tell you it was the twenty-first century?
Fuck, you’d be correct for thinking we were in the fifties. You’d also be right in assuming I was getting bored with my life, bored with being prim and proper and what society expected of me.
After I slid the white satin glove down my forearm, then the next, I rested them on the ivory tulle of my balloon skirt.
Next, I slid the tray of canapes closer. Popping one into my mouth, I swallowed the buttery salmon with horseradish cream on a thin wafer.
Then picked up another, my tummy growling satisfactorily at the intake of food.
With my best friends, Pepper and Grace, I’d just finished my debutante ball. It was by invitation extended to high-society Manhattan, a tradition my mother wanted to uphold, regardless of my months of objections.
Who wants to celebrate the coming out of a young girl into a woman? News flash—I’d become a woman a few months ago when Josh took my V-card.
Now we were back at the sprawling penthouse on Park Avenue where I live with my parents, celebrating with a sprinkle of friends, but mostly Daddy’s esteemed guests. I popped another canape in my mouth and glanced around.
This wasn’t a party for me, more like a gathering of Dad and Mom’s favorite people. With his perfectly groomed salt-and-pepper hair and tuxedo, Dad stood chatting with my boyfriend, Josh, and his parents.
Josh, or Joshua, as Dad called him, is my boyfriend of three months. Introduced by our parents, Josh studied law at Cambridge and was following his parents’ footsteps, who owned one of the oldest and prestigious law firms in Manhattan.
To the left, there was Momma, not a hair out of place with some other ladies of class in the Manhattan social circle.
Next to her was my brother, Connor. He was conversing with his best friends, Barrett, Ari, and Magnus.
With eight years between Connor and me, I wondered why they even had me at all. We looked nothing alike.
I took after Dad with porcelain skin, hazel eyes, light brown hair, and high cheekbones, whereas Connor had Mom’s striking blue eyes and blonde hair.
The only thing we had in common was our height. Connor looked over and raised his glass of champagne. I smiled. Then Barrett turned toward me and ever so slightly tipped his mouth into a smile. His stare from across the room pulled my breath into my throat.
I can’t help it. I still had a stupid crush on Barrett.
Green eyes and dark brown almost black hair. He wasn’t a boy. He was a man with broad shoulders, golden-colored muscles, and confidence in spades. A completely off-limits older man with fuck-all interest in his best friend’s baby sister.
Barrett helped broker a deal for a brownstone in Brooklyn for my family. But Connor struck a friendship with Barrett, encouraging Barrett to go out and establish his own construction and development company—just completing his first boutique hotel renovation in Soho.
So what if I made a point to search social media to see who was on his arm this week. I wasn’t a creep. Just curious was all.
The man was like a vault. I knew this because my parents regularly invited him over for dinner when Connor came around, yet he was the most mysterious man ever.
“There you are,” Josh said, pulling me away from my stupid one-sided crush. Instantly, guilt washed over me.
“Here I am.” I smiled up at him, then grabbed another canape.
“Have you eaten all these?” He laughed, then pushed the tray away from me and toward the middle of the table.
Quickly, I glanced back at Barrett, but he was engrossed in conversation with the boys. Ugh. “I wish we could go now. This party is lame. I don’t even get the whole debutante thing. I’m coming out to society. Where was I before?”
He raised a brow. “Don’t be like that. It’s tradition. Also, an excellent opportunity to meet people and network.”
I don’t need to network. Josh looked past me and smiled at a man who slowed down near us. “Senator, how nice to see you here,” Josh said.
“Joshua, what are you doing here?” “This is my girlfriend, Lourde Diamond.” God, it sounded worse than Debbie Does Dallas.
“Senator Masele, nice to see you again.” I stood up and greeted him. “Lourde, hello, dear, and congratulations on making your debut.” I smiled and nodded.
“Of course, you two would know each other.” Josh smiled, and I noticed his jaw tick. “I didn’t know you two were dating. What a match made in society heaven. Your mother must be thrilled, Lourde.”
“Ecstatic.” I smiled sweetly. He looked at me sideways, unsure if my answer was caked in sarcasm. It was.
After another boring hour of networking—as Josh aptly named it—we had arrived downtown. Seated in a private section of a club, Pepper and Grace sat beside me, sipping on bubbles, while Connor and Barrett sat opposite with dates who appeared like magnets when we arrived.
“This is so much better. Thanks for organizing, Connor,” I said above the booming bass. He took his attention from the woman whispering something in his ear.
“No problem, sis, it’s a big day for you.” I smiled, my gaze settling on Barrett and his date. I wish they weren’t here—the women—that is.
But if I had my boyfriend here, what was the big deal if they had company?
I looked around the club. Where was Josh exactly? “So, what are your plans now? You’re a woman and all.”
The way the word ‘woman’ rolled off Barrett's tongue made my thighs clench together. Stop it, Lourde.
Your boyfriend was probably hurling over the toilet from the bottle of champagne he downed, and you’re drooling over your silly man-crush. I pushed away my wavy hair.
“I’m thinking about helping with the family business.” Barrett smiled, and fuck, there went my ovaries. At the same time, my brother choked on his whiskey, and reluctantly, I peeled my eyes away from Barrett.
The Ms. Universe lookalike seated next to him rubbed him on the back, soft enough to do absolutely nothing. He didn’t thank her. Instead, he looked up at me.
“Since when, sis?” “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Maybe I could be an editor for a design magazine?”
He rolled his eyes. “None of the women in the Diamond family have ever worked, Lourde, and it's not starting now.”
Barrett turned to my brother, arching a dark brow, but he said nothing.
If he was surprised, he didn’t voice it. Walls felt as though they were closing in around my chest.
“We’re not in 1950 anymore!” Pepper and Grace stopped their conversation and turned toward me.
“Sis,” Connor said. “Maybe we should dance?” Pepper squeezed my hand from under the table.
“Yes!” Grace had already shuffled out of the booth before I’d responded.
Deciding I was sick of this discussion, I slid out after Pepper. I swayed my hips on the dance floor. Then, sliding my hands down my ruby red dress that gripped my body, I closed my eyes and let the beat overcome me. Or perhaps it was the two glasses of bubbles I quickly downed. Whatever, I didn’t care. I felt free.
After a while, I opened my eyes, my gaze settling on our table. Barrett’s green eyes stared back at me.
My cheeks burned cherry red while my skin heated all over. Thank God it was dark.
“Hey, where’s Josh?” I blinked a few times, then turned to Grace, who was looking at me curiously.
“B... bathroom,” I managed to get out, and when I glanced back at Barrett, his lady friend had her hands around his neck. Did I just imagine the whole thing? Ugh.
“Actually, I might check,” I said to the girls who were dancing to “Unapologetic Bitch” by Madonna. Josh had said he was going to the toilet but had been gone for a while. On the way to the bathroom, I bumped into Magnus and asked if he could check if Josh was, in fact, keeled over in the men’s bathroom.
After he came out, he informed me Josh wasn’t there.
What the hell. I didn’t know at this point if I was more aggravated over my brother’s sexist comment, Barrett for giving me that spine-tingling stare, or my missing boyfriend. And tonight was meant to be about me?
Finally, I gave up scouring the crowd and slipped out the back exit in need of some quiet.
Outside, the air was brutally cold—the wind whipping down the sidewalk, tossing my hair around my shoulders. The music lowered to a dull thud, giving me the space to hear my own thoughts.
Moans pulled my attention, and curiously I walked toward the sound. I turned the corner.
No.
A girl with a tacky pleather skirt and a blonde bob was on her knees with Josh’s dick in her mouth.
“What the fuck, Josh?” His eyes enlarged to the size of saucepans. “Oh, shit.” He tried to zip up and push her aside, but I was already running away. I turned the corner and ran back toward the club.
Nearly tripping over, I slammed into a chest and a scent so intoxicating, it momentarily pulled me away from my existence.
“Lourde?” I stared up into his green eyes. It was Barrett, and I couldn’t help it. My eyes spilled with tears.
“What happened? Do you want me to get your brother?” he asked.
I glared at him, fuming at the idea. “Okay, not Connor. Just tell me what happened.”
“I just saw my boyfriend getting a blow job in the alleyway .”
“What the fuck?” His eyes darkened with rage. “I’ll kill him,” he said, his tone like ice.
“No, just take me home.” I stared up at him, pleading.
He balled his fists by his sides. “Please, Barrett.” My voice came out on the verge of begging.
He put his arm around me, and we quickly walked in the opposite direction toward his car.
In under ten minutes, we were back in front of 147 Park Avenue. Moments later, after sitting in silence, he turned to me.
“Hey, you okay?” I kept my gaze down. I didn’t want him to see my tear- stained cheeks and smeared mascara eyes.
His fingers wrapped around my chin, tilting my face so I’d have no option but to face him. “Don’t think twice about him. You deserve so much better than that asshole.”
His hands lingered on my chin, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Of course, you're going to say that.”
“What, why?” He removed his hand, but the warmth of his touch remained.
“You're just being kind. It’s what everyone says to comfort someone. But what I really want to know is, why? What did I do to deserve that?”
“Nothing, you did absolutely nothing.” Sobs clogged my throat. “Come here, Lourde.”
He unclipped my seat belt, and with one deft move, lifted me over the center console and onto his lap, pulling me into his chest.
Firm, broad muscles were everywhere, and his scent was a cocktail of manly things like tobacco, whiskey, and something forbidden.
When I wrapped my arms around his neck, his hands dipped lower around my waist. The air in the car grew thick. He was all I needed to forget.
I glanced up, and his hooded eyes stared back. My heart thundered in my chest. “Will you make me forget?” I whisper.
I moved slightly closer, but he made no move to kiss me. Instead, he looked away and slid his hands from around my waist.
“Lourde,” he said, his voice like gravel.
“Just forget it, Barrett.” I pulled the door latch open, stepped out as quickly as possible without splitting a side seam, and ran toward the glowing double doorways.
Fuck my life