AMELIA

This event should have been over a long fucking time ago.

I plastered on a fake smile as Victoria led me towards a group of about fifteen women seated around an ornate round table. They were all dressed to the nines, dripping in expensive jewelry and designer gowns. As we approached, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being led to the slaughter.

A few faces seemed vaguely familiar, but their names eluded me. One woman with striking red hair and emerald earrings the size of grapes gave me a particularly icy stare. Another, a blonde with severe features, wrinkled her nose as if she'd smelled something unpleasant.

"Ladies," Victoria announced, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "I've brought Amelia to join us," She said. The woman never ceases to amaze me at how easily her demeanor can switch.

Then again, to be the mother and wife of a Tycoon as wealthy as Roman and Yaakov, one would have to be pretentious to keep the business going.

She turned to Greece, who had been trail