At 3:45pm, Eric stood in front of his bedroom mirror and regarded his appearance with an emphatic frown. Sure, he looked okay in the grey tuxedo he'd worn a year earlier to his Aunt Susan's wedding – but only if okay meant looking like a five-year-old whose mother had dressed up for a school dance.

Somehow, he knew okay wasn't going to quite cut it when it came to Celia and whatever plans she had for him that night.

Not that he had any other fancy clothes. Or that he had any idea what he was supposed to be wearing.

All she'd said was, "we'll pick you up at 4pm" and "make sure you're ready."

Ready for what, exactly?

He couldn't even get in contact with her – she hadn't handed him her phone number on a piece of perfumed paper or whatever they did in those boy-meets-girl movies. And she didn't tell him her last name, so Facebook stalking was out of the question.

Eric had the overwhelming sense that Celia thought the world revolved around her, that she could expect people to drop everything at a moment's notice.

"Bloody rich kids," he muttered, adjusting the coral dicky-bow threatening to suffocate him.

At least it was half-term. He didn't have to worry about school, so that was something...even if he did spend the last three days worrying about being outed as an imposter.

Dammit, Eric, he thought, bumping his forehead against the mirror, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

"You look nice," a voice sang to him from the doorway, "special occasion? A date, perhaps?"

Eric rolled his eyes as his fifteen-year-old sister, Eva, hopped onto his bed with a questioning glance. "You could say that," he shrugged.

Eva wrinkled her nose, "It's not with Jay, is it? I mean – I know he bats for the other team, but I thought he had better taste."

"Ha," he pulled a face. "It's definitely not Jay."

"So who is it? Spill! Give me all the deets!"

"There's nothing to spill."

Yeah – that was a lie. There was a lot to spill, but he hadn't even told Jay or Henry or Vince yet, so there was no way he was telling his little sister. He was sure as hell not bringing that magnificently worded escort ad up with Eva.

He was about to shoo Eva away when the distinct sound of heavy tires crunching over the gravel out front wafted in through the open window, and she leapt from the bed for a sneak-peek.

"Jeez," she said, turning to him with wide eyes, "just who the hell are you dating?"

Eric furrowed his brow and joined her, then internally face-palmed as he saw what Celia thought was an acceptable mode of transport.

A limo.

A white fucking limo.

A white fucking limo that was wider than his tiny little cottage.

"Christ," he muttered. That's one way to draw attention.

The sunroof of the limo slide open slowly to reveal Celia waving at him as if she were the Queen and he were a mere peasant. Her long, dark hair had been styled into one long braid, and she was dressed in a short, pink cocktail dress and white, fluffy jacket.

"Oh," said Eva, "she's pretty. Are you sure she's here for you?"

I wish she weren't, he wanted to say.

"Eric!" Celia called out, "hurry up! We haven't got all day."

*

The inside of the limo was grander than Eric had imagined, not that he had anything to compare it to – he'd never stepped foot inside one before. The seats were made of white leather which squeaked as he sat down (he had to reassure Celia that no, he didn't fart) and there was a mini-bar full of snacks, champagne and expensive sounding alcohol. LED lighting lining the walls and ceiling, and there was a flatscreen TV with wifi, showcasing some crazy Korean girl group.

"This is insane," he thought as the vehicle began its journey to wherever-the-hell-they-were-going.

Celia wasn't alone inside the limo. Troy was there, in black shades and a fitted, black suit – he figured Troy must have been her bodyguard or something – but there were two others, two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The boy was slim and a little taller than Eric, with pale skin and the fairest hair he'd ever seen – except Henry's, but that was dyed – and the most piercing, green eyes.

"Hi!" he beamed brightly, reaching for Eric's hand and shaking it enthusiastically, "I'm Demi. I hear you're here to steal my girl."

"You can have her if you really want," shrugged Eric.

"No thanks. She's a handful," he grinned, retrieving his hand and reaching for a glass of bubbly.

"I am right here," said Celia.

"Are you? I hadn't noticed," said Demi.

"Hilarious," she nudged him in the side.

"Am I? I hadn't noticed."

"This is why we can't get married."

"Is it? I – "

"Okay!" the other girl piped up, as Eric sat watching them like an umpire at a tennis match, "We get it. You don't notice much." She turned to Eric. "I'm Nina. I'm possibly the most normal person out of everyone you'll meet tonight."

"Oh..." he replied, dumbly. "Oh, yeah, I'm Eric."

"I know."

"Oh."

Nina had short, red hair – not orange, or ginger, but actual red – and a face full of dark makeup which, when coupled with her jet-black cocktail dress and bored expression, made her seem a little frightening.

Please God, let me get out of here soon.

"Eric," said Celia, shuffling over to sit beside him, "why are you dressed like you're going to a prom?"

"You didn't exactly tell me there was a dress code."

She grinned, "Oops. Well – luckily, I've got some clothes already picked out for you. They're not to keep – they belong to Emile – "

"That's my brother," said Nina.

" – but you two are the same size, roughly, so they'll do for tonight. I'll send my family's tailor round to your house tomorrow to measure you properly. I don't know why I didn't think to do that sooner."

"Your family has a tailor?" Eric asked, mouth gaping a little.

The three other teens cast each other knowing glances.

"He's going to blow this, Ceely," said Nina, sternly.

"I have that bit covered," Celia said, biting her Barbie-pink lips, "I've told my parents that Eric and his family are New Money."

"Ohhh," mused Nina, "Clever."

"What the hell does that mean?" Eric tilted his head and screwed his nose up.

"It means...it means your family acquired wealth and status through work and investments, etcetera, rather than inheriting it like ours. It'll be easy to pull off, since you don't know much about our world anyway. Everyone expects New Money families to be a little clueless."

"Won't your parents care that I'm...New Money?"

"Not at all," Celia's lips contorted into a small frown, "as long as you've got money, they don't care where it came from."

"That's shallow," said Eric.

"That's our world."

"And what about my family? What if your parents want to meet them? My mum is so not going to be okay with this bullshit."

Celia smiled as Demi began to speak, "We've got it covered, my good man. We've already found a mother and father, the same way we found you. Here – "

Demi slipped a piece of paper out of his trouser pocket and handed it to Eric.

"This is a list of all the things you need to know about your new family, your new life, money, our world...and so on."

"I have to learn this?" he asked meekly, staring at the lines and lines of info listed in front of him.

"We have about an hour's drive until we reach the Country Club," said Celia, giving him a gentle nudge, "better get reading, darling."

---

Thanks for reading! :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, it would mean so much to me if you left some feedback or gave it a vote. Totally optional though!