Carmen had survived many things in life. Grueling business meetings, ridiculous paparazzi rumors, even Elena's wrath when she forgot to pick up her favorite pastries. But nothing—nothing—had prepared her for this.
Being stuck in a car with Isabel and Ciara on the way to pick out a suit.
"Why am I here?" I muttered under my breath as I drove through the city, gripping the steering wheel like it was the last thing tethering me to sanity.
"Because," Isabel said, flipping through something on her phone. "You asked for help."
I had not asked for help. Lydia had betrayed me by saying she was busy, and Isabel had volunteered—which was already bad enough—but then Ciara somehow found out and invited herself along.
"So, you're saying you don't need help picking a suit?" Ciara asked, leaning forward from the backseat.