Please be advised: For purposes of sensitive information not to be compromised, you are not permitted to discuss this invitation or Spector Incorporated.
Sincerely,
Lorenzo Belvini
President, Spector Inc.
I read the words over and over again, trying to make sense of the cryptic invitation. After a third read-through of the invite, I had the thing memorized, right down to the president’s suave name. I’d never heard of Spector Inc. before, so I didn’t know a damn thing about them.
For the first time since opening my empty diploma, my hopes had lifted. I had a placement.
I had a fucking placement!
A smile spread across my face, and I let out a relieved half-laugh, half-sigh. This position sounded not only incredibly exclusive, but secretive too.
I went to bed that night thanking the Spector gods. And while I might know fuck-all about them, I did know one thing—I was going to take this internship and pave my way to a better life for Aunt Marie and myself once and for all.
Chapter 2
“You’re not wearing that, are you?” My roommate’s nasally voice sounded from the corner of our small dorm room as she looked me up and down. “You look kinda...homely.”
My teeth clenched at her words. She was about as bitchy as she was predictable. But above all else, Cheryl was talkative. I had to brace myself for yet another one of her monologues.
“You know, my second cousin’s ex-girlfriend is a stylist in Milan. She has so many dresses just lying around. But they’re all size four, and I’m a size two. Like what, am I supposed to just gain twenty pounds to fit in some Gucci? No, thank you.”
I stood in front of our ornate full length mirror, doing my best to ignore her. I pulled at the soft, satin material of my blood-red dress I was wearing. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I felt sexy despite whatever the fuck Cheryl said.
The dress was long with a subtle slit up the thigh that showed off enough of my porcelain vampire skin to be sensual while still maintaining some elegance. The front dipped between my cleavage and curved in the shape of a heart. My Aunt Marie had sewed it for me last year, using discount fabric that probably cost her a few precious blood bags.
It wasn’t a designer dress, but it was made with love and matched my red ombré hair and lipstick perfectly. I had spoken to my aunt on the phone earlier, but since I wasn’t allowed to talk about Spector, I kept up my original lie to her and told her I was attending an orientation for the council job tonight. The pride in her tone made the lie worth it. I just hoped this secretive internship worked out.
“I’ve never really liked Gucci,” I replied with a bored sigh while clasping a cheap bracelet around my wrist. I’d never even seen a designer gown up close, let alone had enough money to purchase such a thing. But I’d learned over the years that it was easier to go along with Cheryl’s monologues than point out how vastly different our socioeconomic situations were.
In the reflection, I could see my roommate sipping on her bloody cocktail, her feet dangling in some sky high stilettos that no doubt cost more than a year’s tuition. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet and was lounging around in her black lace lingerie, probably hoping to entice our escort for the evening.
It drove me insane that she’d received an invitation too. Five years of sharing a room with her should have been torture enough, but no. It seemed that fate wanted me to spend even more of my life listening to her nasally, never-ending voice.
To be honest, Spector lost a bit of its prestige in my eyes since they’d invited her. Cheryl was...well, Cheryl. Annoying as fuck and dumb to boot. The only reason she was in Thibault was because her family apparently had good blood and an even better bank balance.
Our escort was supposed to be here any minute, and I had no doubt that Cheryl would make it a point to answer the door still in her underwear. She was always trying to entice prominent members of our society, no matter how inappropriate. She liked to be desired.
“I still don’t understand why they invited you too,” Cheryl whined, not for the first time. She’d been making subtle digs at me ever since she saw me with my letter. “I mean, if it was a blood thing, you wouldn’t have been invited,” she mused. “Your last name is totally unimportant. Who did you say your father was again?”
I shrugged. “Just some weak vamp vagabond douche,” I lied. One major stipulation for attending Thibault and receiving our annual allowance was to never reveal who my father was. It was a secret I was happy to keep. Aunt Marie couldn’t work because of her bloodlust, and if we ever lost the tiny stipend the Trants secretly sent us, there was no way we could survive.
“Hmm. Well, Spector can’t have made their selections for being well connected or having money. Because you don’t have those either,” she pointed out.
“Right, and I guess it can’t be intelligence, because that would rule out your attendance,” I shot back.
“Oh, please. No one cares about that,” she huffed.
“Yes, they do,” I argued, but some of the usual fire behind my words had tempered. I’d always believed that being smart mattered. That I could change my circumstances if I worked hard enough.
I got accepted to Thibault Academy’s scholarship program because I was smart. I stayed at the top of my class because I was driven. But Thibault had taught me that intelligence and drive really didn’t matter, and that was just fucking depressing.
But dammit, I didn’t care what Cheryl thought. I deserved this opportunity.
And tonight? I had every intention of standing up and claiming it. No amount of insecure
