❝ rule number five: never be seen with a pogue ❞
The war between pogues and kooks continues to rage as a storm of emotion brews between sides, putting loyalties to the ultimate test.
As romance blossoms, treasure hunts unfold, and lives hang in the...
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THE FUNCTION ROOM AT The Palms Hotel had undergone a stunning transformation overnight, exuding opulence with its black and gold decorations. The room was abuzz with the presence of the elites of Charleston and the Outerbanks, all impeccably dressed in elegant black tie attire. As they held champagne flutes in their hands, it was evident that they were engrossed in lively conversations, whether it be indulging in gossip or discussing important business matters.
Marcus Baker, Matilda's step-father, possessed an undeniable talent for hosting extravagant parties and captivating his guests. As the driving force behind tourism in the Outerbanks, he embodied the essence of a hardworking businessman. Although he spent most of his time away from home, tirelessly working off the island, his presence had a profound impact on the dynamics within their household. Marcus was a great man, but his high expectations often placed a burden on Matilda, who constantly strived to meet his standards as the chronic people pleaser she was.
Matilda's gaze wandered through the bustling crowd, her eyes darting between the waiters in their crisp white shirts as they hurriedly served drinks. Suddenly, she felt a gentle squeeze on her waist, jolting her out of her search. Turning her head, she found herself face to face with Charlie, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. Standing beside him was an unfamiliar woman, accompanied by a teenage girl. Despite only being at the event for an hour, Matilda already felt overwhelmed. She had somehow lost track of her father and ended up being paraded around by Charlie's father.
"Ms O'Grady—" Charlie started.
"Please, it's Vivian," the redheaded woman interjected.
"—Vivian was asking where you plan on going to college?" Charlie corrected.
Matilda locked eyes with Charlie, silently communicating with him. Putting on a forced smile, she redirected her attention to Vivian, who eagerly awaited her response. "I'm so sorry, I was just looking for my father. He asked me to meet him before the speech," she apologised, her fingers absentmindedly played with the belt loop on Charlie's waistband, her arm gently resting on his lower back. "I'm looking into Harvard. They have an International Relations program. Marcus did his study there," she told the woman who nodded with her every word. "Plus, it's only two hours away from Dartmouth so I would be able to see Charlie," she added quickly, glancing up at the taller boy with a warm smile on her face.
