The Heiress Club

Chapter 18: New Year's Eve

Jasper may be a dickhead but he does have good fashion taste.

He takes me to a tiny boutique, tucked away in the centre of St. Barths. It's located on a winding, hilly road. From the street, I can see out to the ocean. Inside the boutique it's nice and cool, a ceiling fan humming along overhead. Racks of dresses line the store. They have everything from skimpy beach cover ups to flowy floral dresses to what I'm looking for—black tie evening dresses.

I try not to be too nervous about shopping with Jasper. Or at least not show that I am. Seeing is believing, and I'm not letting Jasper see anything. I grab several dresses off the racks and head into the back room to try them on.

There are all kinds. An emerald green one with the deepest V-neck I've ever seen. A midnight blue one sprinkled with pearls that resemble stars. A sleeveless red one with layers of tulle. More and more.

I try on each and every one of them. There's a mirror in the dressing room, but it's too cramped for me to properly see the dress, so I have to go out and look at myself in the mirror out in the waiting area. Unfortunately, that gives Jasper the opportunity to be merciless with his criticism.

"You look like a D-list celebrity," he tells me when I wear the green dress.

"You look like you're trying to show off how many pearls you can buy," he scoffs when I wear the blue dress.

I round on him, nearly losing patience when I have one dress left to try on. "Would it kill you to be quiet?"

He smirks. "It might."

I'm seething as I change into the red tulle dress. It falls like fresh snow around my legs, light and airy. If he says shit about this one, I'll be the one to kill him myself.

I head out, taking a look at myself in the mirror.

Okay, this is the one.

It's stunning. I might even wear this dress more than once. Its ruched tulle bodice draws itself bluntly across my chest, exposing my collarbones and shoulders. The skirt is all light layers of tulle, gathered like drapery to form a beautiful wine-glass-like train. A slit up the side reveals a generous amount of skin.

I wait for Jasper's snide comment, but there's only silence. I turn to look at him.

He's gone completely still, his gaze raking across the dress like he can't get enough of it. I want to fidget, but I will myself to stay still. There's something strange and dark in his eyes. He swallows. "You look ..."

There's nothing else after. He blinks, looking away, and the moment is gone. "Buy this one. All the others you chose were awful."

꧁꧂

Sparky and I arrive fashionably late to Caflisch's New Year's Eve party. John wasn't lying when he said the ballroom is majestic, because it is Majestic with a capital M. The ballroom, a big wide-open hall, is on the southern half of the mansion with grand, round arches that open directly into the garden. It's like you get double the space in one room. The floor tiles are some sort of reddish-orange marble, shining so bright that I can see my reflection in them. Crystalline chandeliers hang overhead. Out in the garden, champagne flows as freely as water, with long catering tables and many people to staff them.

Men in black suits and ladies in extravagant dresses mingle around the ballroom and garden. I've found someone last-minute to do my hair in a fashionable updo. My dress was practically begging for a necklace to go with it, so I did pearls.

Sparky quickly gets pulled aside by John, who wants to introduce him to various people. I'm left to my own devices, with a quick warning from Sparky to not touch the alcohol at all costs.

I break that promise immediately, finding two glasses of champagne. It's not for me though—it's for someone else. I scan the party, looking for him. I don't need to find him. He finds me first.

"I thought you learned not to get drunk, miss Bianchi."

He says my name sarcastically, like it's not mine. Bracing myself, I turn around.

Jasper looks as handsome and cruel as ever, his hair framing his face in unruly waves. His tie has been loosened a little, his coat unbuttoned. I offer him a glass of champagne. I don't go so far as to offer a smile. He doesn't move to take the champagne, probably remembering last night's little wine stalemate.

"Tricks don't work twice, hm?" he says, a corner of his mouth curving upwards in a half-smile.

Ah, but that's not the trick. I took a little inspiration from Seung-jun's story this time around.

I move to set the champagne down on the table but with a flick of my wrist, one glass topples over and drenches both of us in sparkling alcohol.

Jasper looks angry for a moment, but I don't give him time for that anger to develop. "Let's get cleaned up," I suggest, smiling without meaning it.

Then I grab his arm and start forcefully dragging him across the garden and into the ballroom and out towards a side room I saw earlier. It's little more than a storage closet—there are various cabinets and boxes here. I flip the light switch, shove Jasper inside, and shut the door firmly behind us. I turn to Jasper with a pleasant smile. "Alright. Now that we're alone, I propose a trade."

Jasper seems to have momentarily gone into shock. Now, he abruptly adjusts, leaning against the wall of cabinets with an easy smile. "Three questions again? That's my thing."

"No three questions. No bullshit. You tell me everything that happened on Halloween and I tell you everything you want to know about me. And none of it leaves this room."

I can see he's tempted, but he also seems determined to make this difficult for me. "Hm. I don't know. I already know quite a lot about you already. You might need to throw in something extra on your side of the deal."

"A favour. Anything, within reason. You can call it in during the school year."

"And—"

"No more ands," I cut him off.

Jasper raises both his hands in surrender. I notice, again, the twinkle of a gold ring on his index finger. "You drive a hard bargain. Fine. But you tell me your story first."

I take a deep breath. "My name really is Valentina Bianchi. My father is Marco Bianchi. I already told you I don't know who my mother is. I'm Italian-Chinese, born in Jiahui International Hospital in Shanghai. My dad owns a ton of land there. I speak Mandarin, Italian, English, and Spanish. I went to Concordia International School Shanghai because I thought I'd go to America for education, but my dad decided to go to Italy instead to pursue business there. I then went to the International School of Florence."

I pause, gauging Jasper's reaction. He doesn't seem very surprised.

"I got double eyelid surgery because people bullied me about my eyes. My dad started the lie about my mom when I went to Arbourne because I got bullied about that in Florence too. I don't regret that he did, because I know for sure that I would've been bullied about it at Arbourne too. So what if I'm not some old money heiress that you all think I am? I'm good at acting like it. That's it."

Jasper observes me. He seems to have faltered slightly at the open admission that I'm not some old money heiress, that I've been acting all along. Nevertheless, he regains his composure. "That was short. I feel cheated."

I sigh. "What else do you want to know? You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Here's your stupid prize."

The corner of his mouth lifts. "That's not the point of the saying."

I ignore him. "Where's my prize?"

Jasper narrows his eyes, then shrugs. "Fine."

And then he begins to speak.

꧁꧂