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expectations, along with the weight of their disapproving gaze.
    No wonder she’d favored mermaids over princesses as a kid.
    It was only when her lungs squeezed in protest that she sprang to the surface. Blinking water from her eyes, she pushed her hair from her face, allowing it to fall in long, dark ribbons that flowed to her waist, and adjusted the straps of her Burberry bikini—the one that took a monthto convince her mom to buy, and then another month to convince her to let her wear it, and then only within the walled-in confines of their yard.
    â€œAll I see is four tiny triangles and a handful of very flimsy strings!” Her mother had dangled the offending pieces by the tip of her index finger, looking as though she’d been scandalized by the sight of it.
    Inwardly, Aster rolled her eyes. Wasn’t that the whole point of rocking a bikini—to display as much gorgeous young flesh as possible while you still had gorgeous young flesh to display?
    God forbid she wore something that might be considered highly immodest within the confines of her Tehrangeles neighborhood.
    â€œBut it’s Burberry !” Aster had pleaded, trying to appeal to her mother’s own high-end shopping addiction. When it didn’t help, she went on to add, “What if I promise to only wear it at home?” She eyeballed her mother, trying to get a read, but her mom’s face remained as imperious as ever. “What if I promise to only wear it at home when I’m the only one there?”
    Her mother had stood silently before her, weighing the merits of a promise Aster had no intention of keeping. The whole thing was ridiculous. Aster was eighteen years old! She should be able to buy her own stuff by now, but her parents liked to keep as tight a rein on her spending as theydid on her comings and goings.
    As far as getting a job and financing her own bikinis—Aster knew better than to broach that particular subject. Other than the rare exception of a random lawyer here, a famed pediatrician there, the females in Aster’s family tree didn’t work outside the home. They did what was expected—they married, raised a family, shopped, lunched, and chaired the occasional charity gala—all the while pretending to be fulfilled, but Aster wasn’t buying it.
    What was the point of going to those impressive Ivy League schools if that expensive education would never be put to good use?
    It was a question Aster had asked only once. The steely gaze she received in return warned her to never speak of it again.
    While Aster loved her family with all her heart, while she would do anything for them—heck, she’d even die for them if it came to that—she absolutely, resolutely, would not live for them.
    It was too much to ask.
    She inhaled a deep breath, about to take another plunge, when her cell phone chimed, and she shot out of the Jacuzzi so fast, she had to yank her bikini bottom back into place when the water threatened to drag it right off.
    Seeing her agent’s name on the display, she crossed her fingers, tapped the gold and diamond hamsa pendant (agift from her grandmother) for luck, and answered the call, trying to convey a capacity for great emotional depth in a single hello.
    â€œAster!” Her agent’s voice burst through the speaker. “I’ve got an interesting offer to run by you. Is now a good time?”
    He was calling about the audition. She’d put her whole heart and soul into it, and clearly it had worked. “This is about the commercial, right? When do they want me to start?” Before Jerry could answer, she was envisioning how she’d break the news to her parents.
    They were in Dubai for the summer, but she’d still have to tell them, and they were going to freak. She’d dreamed of becoming a world-famous actress since she was a kid, always begging her mom to take her on auditions, but her parents had other ideas. From the moment