Here's my newest story :) R&R please and I will give you virtual pies and...stuff :) Enjoy!

Claire Torelli stared at herself scrutinizingly in the mirror. The pale pink dress brought out her big blue eyes and gave her an innocent, sweet look. She secretly hated her wardrobe, but she had to be presentable as an Heiress. The people had to love her-they just had to!

She slipped on her kitten heels as her maid did her dirty blonde hair in a pretty braid that reached the middle of her back, ending in wisps of curls. Her appearance was the epitome of innocence. When people looked at her, they would think of someone who deserved her father's inheritance. "You look beautiful," assured her maid. Of course she would say that. They were paid to say that.

"Thank you, Lacey," Claire sighed, searching for her handbag. It matched the dress of course. She was wearing all one color, even for the shoes.

Claire's whole life was a lie. People knew her as 'Claire Torelli, the Torelli Heiress,' or just 'The Torelli Princess.' She was called the latter affectionately, of course, as she was known for her manners and her wardrobe style. The thing was, she wasn't sweet at all. She was just fabulous at acting. She admitted that she was spoiled, but she was mainly sarcastic and bitchy. The only person she could be herself around was her father, Vince Torelli.

Vince Torelli was a multi billionaire who had no self-control when it came to women. He had had two affairs in the 18 years of his marriage to Cleopatra Torelli (yes, Cleopatra. When you were in a rich family, they even splurged on names), Claire's mother. A son was a product of one of his affairs. A son Claire didn't particularly want to meet in the length of this party.

Claire didn't really know what the party was about. They just always had parties. Maybe he had a new book coming out, or maybe Torelli Hotels were opening a new branch. She tossed her head, unsatisfied that the braid didn't make her look beautiful when she did that.

The party had started around fifteen minutes ago, and she was attempting to arrive fashionably late. Of course, the fact that the party was being thrown at her own house hampered the "arriving" part of her plan, so we'll just call it her appearance. "I'm going now, Lacey," she said snottily. "Pray they will love me."

Lacey watched as Claire walked, or more glided, out of the room. She always had some eye candy draped across her arm, but tonight, the paid escort was nowhere to be found. Claire didn't particularly care; she was a strong woman. The people may be disappointed at this turn of events, but she wasn't perfect. Things happened.

And that was when she ran into Elias. Not literally, of course, but one knew you couldn't pass your brother in the hallway and completely ignore him. "Hi," Claire muttered, brushing past him.

" 'Sup," he returned awkwardly. They quickly walked down the opposite ends of the hall. Even though the half siblings lived in the same home, they hardly knew each other. When they happened upon each other, they quickly said and awkward hello before retreating elsewhere. Claire was not retreating so much as going into the battlefield, as she liked to call it. Every time a party similar to this was thrown, a battlefield of conversations sprung up.

Wasn't Elias going to the party? His goth attire was hardly dress for this kind of gathering. Especially the spikes. She shuddered and made her entrance.

The stairs leading down to the ballroom were covered in glitter. The decorations were all a pale pink to match her gown just right. It was either perfect, or disastrous, because being the same color as the decorations gave you a tendency to blend in. She frowned, wishing that the decorations were silver instead of pink- no doubt her mother had something to do with this- but then covered the frown with a smile that looked genuine. It wasn't, but no one needed to know that. She looked down at the grinning faces and whispers of appreciation from her guests, or rather her father's guests.

She reached the foot of the stairs. This was the most awkward part of the party, but she didn't have to pause long before a woman she barely knew came up to her and smiled. Claire thought her named was Mrs. Orsega. "You look beautiful as always, Miss Torelli," she smiled. She herself was in a rather gaudy looking dark pink dress, probably taken from Marchesa. It was bulbous and something was wrapped all the way around that Claire couldn't even begin to explain.

"Thank you," Claire replied crisply. "Your dress is… fascinating."

"Thank you," she said delightedly. "I got it from Vera Farmiga's look at the Oscars. Don't you think it's gorgeous?"

Claire plastered a bigger smile onto my face. "Simply beautiful," she assured her. "If you'll excuse me…" This woman was ruining Claire's social reputation. One had to be careful who she talked to, or she'd be as low or high as them, depending on the person.

"Oh, of course," she smiled eagerly, glancing at her mother, who was waiting expectantly for them to finish conversing. An unidentified emotion flitted across Mrs. Orsega's face, which she covered up.

Claire smiled and glided, at least she hoped, into her mother's outstretched arms. "Darling!" Mrs. Torelli gushed. They kissed each other's cheeks in the usual Hollywood way and Mrs. Torelli grasped her hands. "You look beautiful!" Mrs. Torelli herself was wearing an elegant, seductive blue gown that gathered to the corner of one hip. She was allowed to wear something a little more adult, but Claire wished deeply that she could be the one to pick dresses that would make the boys drool over her. Not that they didn't already, they just drooled for different reasons. She was famous, and had a lot of money. She was also "sweet," so she couldn't be a better girlfriend. But she wasn't sexy.

"Oh, goodness!" she said in the high, sweet voice she practiced in public, looking up. Her mother followed her gaze and stifled a gasp.

"What is he wearing?"