I swallow a squeal.

My heart is already pumping wildly, like I’ve fully made up my mind to jump. A cold sweat coats the back of my neck.

The bustling city block is completely oblivious to me standing up here. People race home from work to their loved ones.

I could join them.

I could be one of them.

A soft knock on my bedroom door has me twisting around in panic.

Margaret’s kind voice filters through the quiet room.

“Lainey, Tom will be here in thirty minutes to drive you to the club. Your grandmother wanted me to ask if you need any help getting ready?”

“No!” I rush out, my gaze flitting around my bedroom. I calm slightly as I realize there’s nothing nefarious in here for Margaret to find. There’s no crime scene to hide. She’s not privy to my inner thoughts. Thank god.

“I’ll—I’ll be done in just a minute. I’m just doing my hair now,” I lie, rushing over to my vanity.

It was foolish of me to stand out there for so long, letting my mind wander. I’m going to make us late, and if I do, I won’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night.

I sit and take a deep breath, meeting my reflection in the mirror.

I wince. The wind out on the balcony wasn’t kind.

My hair is as unruly as I’ve ever seen it. It’s curly by nature, my Brazilian roots striving in vain for liberation. Once, when I was a teenager, my grandmother told me when I wear my hair natural, it makes me look “positively feral”. So, for years, I straightened it into submission, topping it with that damn plaid headband. Now, I embrace the slicked-back bun trend, grateful for the time it saves me when getting ready.

Quickly, aware of the time crunch, I add Piaget diamond studs to each ear, the perfect understated size.

My makeup, too, is subtle. It’s the name of the game in our world. New money screams; old money whispers. When I’m done, I assess my work. I look fresh-faced and demure, but not really. My eyes will always remain upturned at the outside corners—siren eyes they’re called. My cheekbones will always cut. My lips are full no matter how much I wish otherwise, which is why I never wear lipstick shades that draw attention to them. Today, I use a balm called Enchanting Kiss by Charlotte Tilbury, a color that perfectly complements my skin tone.

The Herve Leger dress Margaret laid out for me earlier has a one-shoulder sleeveless neckline and an asymmetrical hem that falls just below one of my knees. My grandmother’s tailor has ensured it fits me like a glove. I like the dress; it’s beautiful. It was handpicked for me by my personal sales associate at Neimans, and Margaret has taken the time to lay out a coordinating pair of Tom Ford heels to go along with it. There’s a Cartier watch and an Hermès clutch as well.