Veneer X Ritz Novels & Stories

Trevor tried to steer the other two out and— Daxton’s hand left my waist and I drew in a long breath, enough to suck the air back into my lungs. His deep calm voice boomed through the room as he fixed his eyes on his managers. “Is it time?” The woman nodded. “Yes sir,” Maybe I was wrong about us coming here only to vacation. The V.R. hotel made a major collaboration with one of the longest-running franchises in the world —the Maisiélle French couture brand. A gasp left my mouth as I swiveled my gaze around the vast hall that screamed only two things—extravagance and opulence.

Zara’s car wove through the downtown traffic, a silver shark in a sea of minivans. We had spent the last two hours engaged in Zara's favorite sport: extreme window shopping. She finally pulled over in front of Velvet & Vine, a boutique that smelled like old money and pretension. Inside, the air conditioning was frigid, and the racks were sparse—the hallmark of a place where a single t-shirt cost more than my monthly allowance. Zara dove into the racks of silk and chiffon with the focus of a tactical commander. Lacking her enthusiasm and feeling the familiar throb of my bank account crying, I retreated to a moss-green velvet sofa in the corner.