Blue Bloods by Melissa de La Cruz Page B

by her father’s heavier footsteps. “Hi, baby,” Trinity called, knocking on her daughter’s door. “Daddy and I are leaving.”
    “Come in,” Mimi said. She put her chandelier earrings on and scrutinized her image in the mirror.
    Trinity opened the door and stepped inside the room. She was wearing a floor-length gown—
    Valentino, Mimi thought—and carrying a lush sable wrap around her shoul ders. She cut an elegant, glamorous figure, her long blond hair curling around her collarbone. Her mother was often photographed for society columns and fashion magazines.
    Her parents were going to some charity ball. They were always out. Mimi couldn’t remember the last time either of her parents were home for dinner. Sometimes whole weeks would go by before she would see them. Her mother spent her days in the hair salon, the gym, her therapist’s office, or Madison Avenue boutiques; and her father was always at the office, working.
    “Don’t stay out too late,” Trinity admonished, kissing her daughter on the cheek. “You look lovely, by the way. Is that the dress I bought you?”
    Mimi nodded.
    “A little much with the earrings, though, don’t you think?” her mother suggested.
    Mimi felt stung. She hated being criticized. “I think they look fine, Mother.”
    Trinity shrugged.
    Mimi noticed her father standing by the doorway, look ing impatient. He was talking heatedly on his cell phone. Lately, her father seemed more distracted than usual. Something was bothering him, he was preoccupied and for getful. The other day she’d arrived home hours after curfew, but her father, who had caught her sneaking in through the kitchen as he was refilling his brandy snifter, didn’t say a word.
    “Where’s Jack?” her mother asked, looking around as if Jack could be hiding under the vanity table.
    “Already there,” Mimi explained. “My date’s running late.”
    “Well, have fun,” Trinity said, patting Mimi’s cheek. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”
    “Good night,” Charles added, closing the door to her bedroom.
    Mimi looked at herself in the mirror again. For some reason, every time her parents bid her good-bye for the evening, she felt bereft. Abandoned. She never got used to it. She removed the chandelier earrings. Her mother was right, they were too much for the dress.
    Not long after her parents left, the Italian arrived. He was a distinctly changed man since the day they’d met at Barneys. His cocky demeanor was gone, as was the predatory smile. She’d sucked that out of him. It was Mimi who was in con trol. She’d almost had her fill of him—he was so easy. No one was a match for her.
    “I’ll drive,” she said, taking the keys from his pocket. He didn’t protest.
    It was only a short distance to the American Society, but Mimi ran a few red lights on the way anyway, causing an ambulance to swerve to the side to avoid an accident.
    She pulled up to the awning, where the doorman was waiting. They disembarked from the car, and Mimi threw the keys to the valet. The Italian followed her like a puppy. They walked into the mansion together.
    Mimi looked devastating in a midnight satin Peter Som dress, with her hair in a high chignon, a triple strand of heir loom South Sea pearls as her only accessory. She tugged on her date’s arm and steered him up the stairs. There, she confronted the sight of her best friend, Bliss Llewellyn, in a passionate lip lock with that loser wastoid , Dylan Ward.
    “Hell000.” Mimi’s voice was icy in the extreme. When did this happen? Mimi didn’t like being kept out of the loop.
    Bliss disengaged from Dylan’s tongue. She blushed when she saw Mimi. Bliss’s lipstick was smudged and her hair was askew. Dylan smirked at Mimi.
    “Bliss. The bathroom. Now.”
    Bliss gave Dylan an apologetic look, but she followed Mimi to the ladies’ room without question.
    Mimi checked the stalls and shooed the maid outside the lavatory. When she was satisfied there was no one