Michelle Madow - The Secret Diamond Sisters

“What about the stuff you like?” Courtney asked. “You’re not going to get rid of it, are you?”

“I’ll find stuff I like better.” Savannah plucked a tube of pink lip gloss from her vanity and leaned closer to the mirror to apply it. “Now that we can buy what we want, it doesn’t make sense to shop at big discount stores anymore. It’ll be great to get real designer clothes instead of imitations.”

Courtney didn’t like how Savannah was so willing to leave her old life behind. “I can help you go through your clothes so you can decide what to keep,” she suggested, since Savannah wouldn’t get through such a meticulous task without Courtney sitting by her side to keep her focused. “Then we’ll find the local Goodwill and donate what you don’t want.”

“Good idea,” Savannah said. “Let’s go shopping this week, and when we’re done you can help me sort through my stuff.”

Courtney nodded, although she hoped Savannah wasn’t going to go too crazy with buying things. Then she remembered why she was here. “Do you think this looks okay?” she asked, motioning to her dress. “I usually wear it with a sweater.”

Savannah stepped back and examined Courtney’s outfit, raising her index finger to her chin like this was the most important assessment in the world. “It’s fine, and you definitely don’t need the sweater,” she finally said. “We’re going to dinner in Vegas—not church at home. And flip-flops? Really? Please tell me you weren’t actually thinking of wearing those. I’ll find something else.” She ran to Courtney’s room, coming back a minute later holding the pair of shiny white pumps she’d forced Courtney to buy at a clearance sale at Payless last year. Courtney had tossed them into the back of her closet, so they were still brand-new. “These would be much better.”

Courtney put them on and looked into the mirror. She hated the extra height, but Savannah was right. The white pumps transformed the dress. “I guess it does make a big difference,” she said, practicing walking a few unsteady steps. Hopefully her feet wouldn’t be covered in blisters by the end of the night.

“More than that!” Savannah insisted. “It makes you look like a supermodel. Anyway, what’d you think of Damien? He’s hot, right?”

Courtney shivered at the memory of the conversation they’d had with him earlier. They hadn’t talked with him for long, but she’d gotten a bad vibe from him. He seemed too...smooth. It was rare for someone that attractive and overconfident to have good intentions. Courtney wasn’t an expert with guys—she’d never had a boyfriend—but the way he’d eyed Savannah when he’d mentioned seeing her tonight unnerved her. She didn’t want Savannah getting in over her head with him.

“He’s attractive,” she said. “But you need to be careful. The guys here aren’t like the ones in Fairfield.”

“What do you mean?” Savannah asked.

“There’s just something about him I don’t trust.”

“Well, I thought he seemed nice.” Savannah picked up her straightener from the vanity and ran it through her hair. “And you don’t know him, so it isn’t fair of you to judge him.”

“It’s just a vibe I got,” Courtney said.

“You and your vibes.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “But he seemed into me, right?”

“He was giving you more attention than Peyton or me,” she said truthfully.

“Good,” Savannah said. “I thought so, too, but I wanted to make sure. I hope he doesn’t have a girlfriend. But it didn’t seem like it from the way he was talking to us. I mean, he was practically asking me out. Don’t you think?”

The doorbell rang before Courtney could respond. She’d have to deal with Savannah’s infatuation with Damien later—preferably after she gathered more evidence of how he was not the type of guy that Savannah, or any girl with self-respect, should swoon over.

“Omigod.” Savannah dropped the straightener down on the vanity, her eyes wide as she looked at Courtney in the mirror. “That has to be him.”

Courtney’s stomach swirled, the morning’s anxiety returning. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a few deep breaths to calm down. It didn’t work. She felt more nervous than ever.

“You ready?” she asked.

Savannah nodded, and together, they gathered enough courage to walk out of the room. Courtney wanted to grab her sister’s hand for support, but she didn’t want to seem like she couldn’t handle the situation and was panicking about meeting her father.

Her father. It sounded so strange.

Peyton walked into the foyer at the same time as Courtney and Savannah. She was wearing one of her signature “going out” outfits—a short leather skirt, a tight black tank and stiletto knee-high boots. Normally Courtney would suggest she put on a jacket to make the outfit less provocative, but now they had something bigger to worry about. The three of them looked at each other, and Courtney knew the wide-eyed anxiety and straight-lipped worry on her sisters’ faces were mirrored on her own. Their lives were about to change forever, and she didn’t feel close to ready.

She stepped forward to open the door, but the handle moved before she got a chance, and it swung open.

A man walked through, and there was no doubt he was their father. His medium blond hair was clean-cut, and his eyes were the same blue as theirs. And he was tall. The navy suit he wore and his strong, high cheekbones made him look like an aristocrat from an old movie who knew what he wanted and the right way to get it.

“Peyton, Courtney, and Savannah,” he said, looking at each of them as he said their names. “Did I get it right?”

Courtney nodded, unsure how to reply. “Hi” felt too casual. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed again, trying to think of something to say.

“You all look just like your pictures.” He glanced at the table in the foyer and ran his fingers over the glass surface. “I see you got your credit cards. Good. Have fun with them, but don’t do anything too extreme.” He walked through the foyer, his black leather shoes tapping against the marble floor. “I’m Adrian Diamond.” He cleared his throat. “Your father. Although I suppose you’ve figured that out already.” He laughed, but it wasn’t enough to take away the heavy awkwardness in the air. “Welcome to your new home. I trust everything is to your liking?”

Courtney had a million things she wanted to say to him, but she felt useless. It was like the world was spinning out of control, and she couldn’t figure out how to make it steady again.

“We did get our credit cards.” Peyton stared him down. “And then I threw mine in the trash.”

“Really?” Adrian actually chuckled, even though Peyton was still giving him a hate-glare. “Why would you do that?”

“She didn’t really throw it in the trash,” Savannah chimed in. “Well, she did, but nothing else was in there and I rescued it.”

“Good to know.” He still had an amused smile on his face, which Courtney guessed wasn’t the reaction Peyton had been expecting. “If you don’t want your credit card, that’s your choice—I don’t mind if you toss it in the back of a drawer in your room—but they can’t be thrown away due to security reasons.”

Peyton set her jaw and didn’t respond.

“It was kind of you to give them to us.” It was the best thing Courtney could think to add to the conversation. “We’ll use them as responsibly as possible, and only for emergencies.”

“That’s very mature of you, Courtney,” he said, and while she shouldn’t have wanted to earn the respect of the man who had abandoned her and her sisters, she felt proud of his approval. “But you can use your credit card for whatever you’d like—as long as you don’t do anything too extreme, like buy a yacht or charter the jet around the world. You’ll have to ask permission before doing anything like that. But most everything else—shopping, food, spa days or whatever else you want—is fair game.”