Breaking the Wrong (28 page)

“Did Aniston tell you something?” I never give her time to answer. “Don’t listen to him,” I say quickly. “You know how he can be full of himself.”

“Emilia!” Eden shouts my name out impatiently and rolls her eyes. “God, I’m not a child. Just tell me the truth.” She swallows loudly and crosses her arms. “Did Macsen deserve revenge?”

It fe
els like hours pass by, but it has only been seconds. There’s no easy way to answer her and it hurts me. Honesty is painful. It’s a healing balm for the one speaking and gives a burning sting for the person on the receiving end. I know I will only have one second of relief for telling the truth, and after that, I’ll feel the harsh sting of my words. I love my sister too much to let her bear the pain alone.

My throat constricts painfully and I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “He didn’t deserve revenge.”

Eden looks at me blankly, saying nothing. I expect her to drop to the ground, to sob, or scream at me. I wait for the word
traitor
to escape from her mouth. She does none of those things. All she does is shrug her shoulders in a helpless gesture and look away. “Well, there you have it.”

“I’m sorry,” I croak out.
Eden only looks at me with confusion. “I didn’t plan this!”

“Yes
, you did,” she says firmly. “You planned everything, Emilia. But what you didn’t plan on was getting burned yourself.”

Her words pierce my heart because it’s true. I achieved nothing in my revenge, except handing over my heart to the one person I was suppose
d to hate. “I wanted justice for everything that’s happened.” I say weakly, trying to defend my Burn List. “That’s all!”

“And did you get it?”

“No,” I whisper.

We stand there silently. Both of us stare down at the carpet. I’m ashamed and I’m sure she’s disgusted. Finally, she sighs loudly and I look up. “I’m going downstairs,”
Eden mumbles woodenly. “Aniston is waiting for you whenever you’re ready.” 

EMILIA

“I’m still pissed at you,” I hiss into Aniston’s ear.

“Can you let it go?” he says from the side of his mouth.

He escorts me into The Plaza with a slow gait that allows us to smile and nod at the people we’ve grown up with. 

Aniston is
not dumb. He knows I’m angry with him, but he also knows how much I hate these events. My grip on his arm tightens at the sight of all the socialites around me, and he pats my hand.

“I know you’ve been talking to
Eden,” I accuse and let my words hang in the air.

Keeping his eyes forwa
rd, Aniston responds innocently, “I talk to Eden all the time. Why wouldn’t I?”

The two of us walk into the opulent ballroom
, and for a quick second, I stare at the enormous room. The circular tables are covered with ivory tablecloths and the only splash of color comes from the bouquet of pink roses. With the chandeliers dimly lit, the entire effect is romantic and very calming, making it appear that the entire room was set up easily. In reality, it probably took months of my mother talking to her decorator about every tiny detail.

I should be proud of
all the hard work my parents put into this event. After all, this entire function is because of E. Maybe I would be happier about it all if I wasn’t surrounded with people that really don’t care. Only a handful of these faces probably know what this charity is about. The rest see it as a get-together to laugh and talk.

For me, it’s my own personal hell. And standing next to Aniston isn’t helping my feelings of anxiety.

He looks at me and rolls his eyes before guiding us away from everyone.

“I know you told her about Macsen!” I tell him angrily.  

“She already knew about your plan of going after Macsen,” he points out. “I just gave her updates on everything,” Aniston says his words with a devious grin.

Pulling my arm away from him
, I glare and shove my elbow into his side. He grunts but makes no other reaction. “Plan is over,” I say firmly. “You just made everything worse.”

Aniston’s face whips in my direction and he stares at me
in shock. “How did I make it worse? You’re finished with this list,” he says the last sentence, mimicking my voice. I stare at him darkly and he shrugs and leans back against the wall. “If you did nothing wrong there’s no reason things should be bad. Right?”

I give him a pointed look and dodge his question.
“Don’t pull her into this. Please, Aniston.”

“It’s kind of too late for that
. And what’s the big deal again? Let’s forget about it and enjoy the night.” He shakes his head. “I take that back. You need to get wasted to ever enjoy this kind of thing.”

We walk deeper into the ballroom and Aniston flags down a waiter
, who hands us champagne. We’re not carded; the waiter doesn’t blink an eye. I look down at the swirling liquid and drink it all in seconds flat. Aniston gives me a weird look and I shrug. I need a dull buzz to be around these people.

Our parents stand in the middle of
the floor talking to the people. We catch our mother’s eye and she instantly waves us over.

She’
s dressed elegantly in a green gown. It complements her dark red hair that is swept away from her neck. None of us really look like her except E. There is nothing bold about my mother’s looks. Her features are small, making her look delicate. But Joy Wentworth is stronger than she appears. It takes guts to smile and pretend that your soul hasn’t been gutted.

She looks at my floor-
length, black gown and gives me an approving nod. Unconsciously, I run a hand over my hair. It took hours to make sure my finger wave hairstyle was in place. I looked in the mirror thousands of times before I left and even with all my efforts, I’m still paranoid that I don’t look the part.

“Emiliana,” my mother says gently. “You look stunning.”

Murmurs of agreement are spoken around us. I smile at everyone and look into my mother’s incredibly sad eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s so great to you have you home.” She leans
in to Charlotte Langley, her closest friend. “I’m hoping she’ll transfer back to NYU this next semester.”

Not a chance. My feelings are
resolute about staying in Kentucky. I don’t think anything could change my mind.

Charlotte Langley tilts her head to the side and looks at me thoughtfully. She reminds
me of porcelain. She never ages, never gets a wrinkle. Her beauty remains flawless and pristine. Even at the age of forty, this woman has the ability to look at anyone twenty years younger and make them feel ugly. I’m not exempt from that feeling. Aniston stands next to me and when my back straightens, he looks down at me with a frown.

“It would be wonderful to see you
r stunning face back at NYU, Emiliana,” Charlotte says smoothly.

“Yes,” says a male voice. “I
t would be good to have you there.”

I look at Juli
an, Charlotte’s son. He’s clean-cut and I suppose, good looking, but he does nothing for me. Julian is Aniston’s good friend. Ever since they met in high school and ended up going to NYU, they’ve been close. Our dads had a law firm together. I don’t think much of him. He’s a typical friend of Aniston’s—rich, cocky, and he drinks way too much.

I give him a b
rief smile and turn toward Charlotte. “Thank you, but I like the school I’m at now. I think I’ll finish my junior year there.”

“Well, I hope you consider
coming back for your senior year. It would be so great to see you, Julian, and Ethaniel all together.”

I look over at my brother and he stiffens at his first name being used. “She’ll think it over this summer,” my brother confidently tells Charlotte.

“No, I don’t think I will, Ethaniel,” I say slowly.

Aniston stiffens and I keep smiling, ignoring all the shocked loo
ks I’m getting from my family. From everyone but my dad.

I don’t think my dad believes in the word
bad
. He believes there is good in everyone and maybe that’s why I gravitate more toward him than my mom. I’m like my mom. I can be a pessimist. My dad is always optimistic. That’s where E gets her personality. I look at him, and for the first time tonight, I smile widely.

My hair
color comes from him, but his strands are becoming peppered with gray. He has wrinkles around his brown eyes and lips, but I think they’re from constantly laughing and smiling.

Genuine people are rare. And finding them in the circle of people I’ve been raised around is next to impossible.
When he helps someone, he does it because he wants to.

Gregory Wentworth is genuinely rare.

“Emilia will make the right decision,” my dad comments with a smile.

“Charlotte has a point
, dear.” My mother places her hand on my dad’s arm. “It would be great to have them together for their last year of college.”

T
he feeling of being bombarded fills my gut. I scramble for an answer, but my dad beats me to it. “She’s an adult. It’s her choice.”

The
issue is settled and the conversation turns to Charlotte as she talks about her family. Instantly, I drift off into my own little world, thinking of when I can leave the room and call Macsen.

Charlotte mutters something into my mom’s ear and the two of them look to the entrance. I look with them. I see an incredibly tall
woman walking toward us with grace.

She uses
her height to her advantage, looking down on the people around her. But it’s fascinating to me how people react to this lady. Even my own mother smiles graciously at her, partially out of excitement and the age-old female trait, jealousy.

Everyone parts for her to join this little circle we’ve created, just so they can do
the same thing as me: stare.

S
he smiles slowly, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. “How is everyone tonight?” the amazon asks.

She has a
sultry voice, but what intrigues me most is her strong accent. I can’t pinpoint it.

My mother reaches out and guides the blonde
woman to her right. Charlotte stands to the left and narrows her eyes. No one else sees the look, but I do.

“I don’t think you’ve met two of my children,” my mom says and points
to Aniston and me. The blonde nods her head and gives us a smile. “Laurena, meet my son, Ethaniel and my eldest daughter, Emiliana.” My eyes widen. “Kids, I would like you to meet Laurena Sloan.”

She reaches out and shakes
Aniston’s hand. When she holds her hand out to me, I just stare.

My blood runs cold as I stare Laurena. I’m face to face with Macsen’s mother.
If I look close enough, I see Macsen in her sharp cheekbones and olive skin tone, but that’s where it ends.

Her dark blonde hair
is pin straight and falls to her shoulders. Those shiny strands brush against her dark red, empire waist gown. She’s skinny, and I catch most the women around me looking at her waist with envy. Laurena’s gray eyes shine as she looks straight at me, and I can see that she thrives on attention. The urge to take off my stiletto and hit her with the heel is so strong I have to take a deep, calming breath and a step back.

All I
can think of is Macsen and his dark, messed up childhood. I don’t know all the stories of his adolescence. There may have been happiness mixed in with all the bad, but all I picture his sadness and hurt when he explained what he did when he was eight.

And that’s all on Laurena.

She lifts a perfectly plucked brow, like she’s realizing I know something but keeps her hand out. Reluctantly, I shake her boney hand.

I swear I just shook hands with a viper.

“So nice to meet you, Emiliana.”

I suppress the urge to shiver and pull my hand away. “You too, Ms. Sloan.” Both
of my hands squeeze my clutch and I know I have to get out of this room. I have to call Macsen. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say apologetically, “I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, of course.” Laurena says.

Somehow, it feels like I’m getting her permission. I look at her skeptically and walk quickly out of the ballroom.

My head is bent as I turn the corner and pull my phone out. It
takes four tries to press dial. My hands are shaking and I can’t focus on anything. I just know that I need to talk to Macsen.

The bathroom is to my left
, and I quickly walk inside and call Macsen. It rings six times before it goes to his voicemail.

I don’t leave a message.

A few ladies walk in and give me a brief look before they walk over to the sinks and talk quietly.

Seeing his mom i
s totally unexpected. I don’t know all the people my parents rub shoulders with, and clearly, that shows tonight. But the fact that Laurena Sloan is one of those shoulders makes me angry. I feel like a traitor to Macsen for being in the same room as his mom.