Nick had arranged every detail with keenness, even down to the limousine that pulled up in front of Vicky's house. He wanted nothing less than a spectacle—an entrance that would make every head turn the moment Georgia, Ella, and Vicky walked into the ballroom.
To guarantee it, he had given the driver strict instructions: pick them up late enough that most of the guests would already be waiting.
By the time the sleek limo rolled into the driveway, Vicky was pacing near the window, her nerves on edge. The second the driver stepped out, she stormed toward him, her sequined dress shimmering under the porch lights.
"What took you so long?" she snapped, tapping her heel against the pavement. "It's already almost seven o'clock! We'll be lucky to get there before dinner starts. And in case you forgot—I'm the one who organized this party! That will start at exactly seven!"
