All That Glitters

Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Lucie

After much deliberation, Lucie picked the red lipstick.

She looked good in red lipstick. After all, red was her signature color.

Technically, no, it wasn't, she corrected herself. Factually, a beige rose or pale pink lip shade would probably work better with her skin tone and hair color (Special Edition Vogue, beauty section, page 32).

But Lucie had envisioned a deep cranberry for this outfit, and dammit, she was going to wear it.

Well, shit. Where had she put it?

Lucie cursed as she tripped over a fallen pair of nude pumps on the floor, catching herself on her dresser. The glowing green numbers on her alarm clock glared at her.

It was time to the facts: A) she was going to be late, again, B) she had just stubbed her toe, and C), misplacing a flimsy (yet essential!) cosmetic item was not a good excuse for ducking out on yet another Boston town charity gala.

Ooh, lightbulb. Maybe Lucie could pretend she was sick. Then she could stay home and order Chinese, maybe watch cartoons on her plasma screen.

Nah. She'd faked cramps one too many times in the past. And if anyone else knew she did that, she'd be disowned from society. After all, Lucie Montes could be described in many ways, but childish was not one of them.

(Maybe it was immature, but when it was late and dark in the empty townhouse, some good old fashioned Nickelodeon seemed to be the only thing that helped her get to sleep.)

Lucie ran a manicured hand down the side of her dress, grimacing. It was so tight. Silver and lightly sequined, with spaghetti straps and a hem that skimmed the tops of her tanned thighs. It was also flashy and overpriced, but at least she looked the part.

Now she had about two minutes to get it together.

Gah. Where was her lipstick?? Christian and his driver were probably waiting for her outside, too polite to honk the horn.

Lucie jutted a thumb at her reflection in her table mirror. Her brown eyes were wide. Antsy.

"Get it together."

She grabbed another tube of makeup behind her mirror and haphazardly shoved it in her cream Chanel handbag without recapping it. Grabbing her pumps with the other hand, she averted her gaze from her reflection as she crossed her room and pushed open the door.

When she was younger and forced to attend these dinner parties, Lucie would hang out in the back of the room with a plate of cheese puffs. Good times.

But now that she was older, she had responsibilities— this usually only meant smiling seductively at people and trying not to run screaming out of the Hotel Rich-and-Snotty-Old-Fogies, or, wherever she was at the time.

Lucie knew that all of the other eligible young women in New England would sell their souls to get on the invite list to one of the charity galas. She should be grateful.

But it wasn't her fault they were so boring!

Lucie pondered this as she climbed down the winding staircase to the front room.

It was a shame, really, that there wasn't a dress that looked good with cheese puff powder down the front of it. If Lucie ever opened up her own boutique line, that would be the first thing she'd invent.

She turned the knob as quietly as she could and opened the front door of her father's townhouse.

Leaves were falling in Boston; invading the monuments, blanketing the park benches, coating the grey-white of the sidewalks with reddish brown leaf stains. The heat remained as a last hurrah to Indian Summer while the trees painted themselves lovely shades of apricot and yellow.