Her laughter spills into my ears as I jump to my feet and start pacing the luxuriously thick carpet. “This isn’t funny! I was so not prepared for this. I should call a cab and go straight back to the airport.”

“Don’t you dare!” Lorelei cries. “Are you forgetting the whole reason you’re there? You need to stick it out and get that investment. Besides, when will you ever have another chance to stay at a place that fancy again? I bet they have their own chef who serves delicious meals. Just relax and enjoy your little excursion into Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless. You’ll be back among the rest of us peasants soon enough.”

“If a debutante hasn’t knifed me by then,” I mutter. “They all want to date Dash. One of them already tried to drown me, and I haven’t even been here a half hour!” I recap the party of horror.

“Amazing,” Lorelei replies. “I love it.”

“Do you want to come fend them off?” I retort. She giggles.

“Just remember, Dash needs you, not the other way around. He should be helping you navigate all of this.”

“You’re right…” I say slowly. Dash pretty much threw me to the wolves back there. Wolves, snooty bitches, same difference. “My fake boyfriend definitely needs some work. Clearly, he’s not used to looking out for anyone other than himself.”

But his kissing skills? Unmatched.

I sigh, remembering the heat of his body against mine, and that gorgeous mouth doing miraculous things to mine…

Luckily, Lorelei has to go, otherwise I know I would be getting the third degree on this fake relationship setup. As I hang up, a text comes through from Dash.

Where did you go?

I have zero desire to rejoin the party, and this bed is just so comfortable…

Tired from travel, I text back. Taking a nap. OK?

He sends a thumbs-up. Dinner’s at 7.

That’s me off the hook for, ooh, another couple of hours. I scoot back, grab a blanket that just has to be cashmere, and sink into a delicious nap.

You know, to prepare for my second attempt at impressing Dash’s grandmother. I guess one good thing about my earlier stunning failure is that the only way to go is up.

Thanks to the wonders of an outrageously expensive mattress, I awaken from my nap feeling like I slept on a cloud—and ready to go toe-to-designer-sandal-clad-toe with Zelda herself. Dash didn’t say anything about dinner being formal, but one look at that banquet table downstairs has told me that you can never be too overdressed in this house.

Besides, I’ve got some compensating to do for that whole ‘drowned rat’ incident, so I pick out one of my nicest sundresses, the one with little navy straps that tie on my shoulders in a bow. I slip my feet into strappy sandals, and spend a little extra time on my makeup, before heading downstairs, ready for battle.

I’m on a mission here: To win over Zelda, enough to loosen her grip on those trust purse strings, anyway. Surely that won’t be so hard? I was caught off-balance before—literally—but if I can charm the ladies of Fleishman’s into opening their pocketbooks at the store every day, then I can sure as hell do it here.