Yvaine suddenly found the floor fascinating. Her heels. A smudge on the carpet. Anything but my face.
‘Yvaine,’ I said, sharper this ti. ‘You know all the gossip in town. Spill.’
She winced. ‘I didn’t want to tell you. Thought it might... I don’t know. Upset you.’
‘Trust ,’ I said. ‘The only thing that could upset right now is running out of alcohol.’
Yvaine gave a guilty little shrug. ‘Fine. Yeah. They’re working together. Catherine’s his secretary now.’
For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard her right. ‘Secretary? Like... scheduling and stuff?’
‘Yeah.’
I barked out a laugh, way too loud for a party this fancy. A few people glanced over. I didn’t care.
Back when Rhys and I were a thing, I needed to book an appointnt just to swing by his office with a sandwich.
Now Catherine, whose only organisational skill was getting thrown out of a club in under ten minutes, got an all-access pass?
‘Of course she is,’ I said, grabbing another drink off the tray of a passing waiter. ‘Of bloody course.’
Yvaine quickly changed the subject. ‘Why don’t we go say hi to the Van Astors? Their son runs a boutique fashion label. Might be a chance for you to collab.’
I nodded and followed her across the room. Business before drama. Always.
But apparently, Catherine didn’t share that thought.
I had just sealed a handshake deal with Whitman Van Astor to look at my new designs—my jewellery line might even end up in his next spring launch—when she ca back, dragging Serenna Oakley behind her.
I’d clocked Serenna the second she slithered in. Looked like Catherine had pulled so strings to get her an invite.
God knew when those two got so chummy, though. Last I checked, Serenna was still slagging off Catherine’s taste in shoes.
Serenna flashed a smug little grin at . ‘Bet you didn’t expect to see at the Laurent party, huh?’
I gave her a once-over. Designer dress, borrowed confidence, and a face that said ‘please validate ’.
I turned to Catherine. ‘You might wanna be careful. Our dear cousin’s been obsessed with Rhys since school. You sure you wanna parade him around with her sniffing after him?’
Catherine’s face stiffened. She snapped her head towards Serenna, eyes sharp enough to shave an eyebrow clean off.
Serenna went the colour of a bad spray tan. ‘Don’t listen to her! She thinks every girl on the planet’s gagging for Rhys.’
‘And you’re one of them,’ I said, all helpful-like.
‘No I’m not! Not anymore!’
‘Huh.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve got a new target then? Who is it?’
Serenna flailed for a second, then swung towards Catherine. ‘Cathy, swear down, I don’t have a thing for Rhys. I know you two are ant to be.’
Catherine wavered, chewing over whether to trust Serenna or not, before she gave a stiff little nod. ‘I believe you.’
Then she turned to . ‘This is an important party for Rhys. I hope you won’t ruin it.’
I crossed my arms. ‘Trust , Catherine, I’ve got nothing more to do with him. Whether this is the best night of his life or he trips over a napkin and dies of embarrassnt, I couldn’t care less.’
Her smile wobbled but she ploughed on. ‘I know you’re bitter, but please, be reasonable. There are a lot of business elites here tonight. Rhys is trying to secure an investnt deal with the Laurents. Please don’t let your personal feelings ruin this chance for him.’
‘My personal feelings? You an you don’t want to broadcast the fact that I dumped Rhys because he’s a violent little SOB who hasn’t got the spine to tell his mother he’s in love with soone else? Instead, he just rolls over and accepts a fiancée he never wanted, because having an actual conversation might be too scary for him? Yeah, I can see how that wouldn’t really help his investnt pitch.’
Serenna glanced between us, eyes wide, clearly clocking that there was way more dirt under this rug than anyone had warned her about.
Catherine had the grace to blush, but not the good sense to back off. ‘Whatever happened,’ she said, voice tight, ‘you and I are still family. And Rhys will be family too. So please, don’t do anything you’ll regret.’
I rolled my eyes so hard it was a miracle I could still see straight.
There was no point trying to explain it to her. In Catherine’s mind, I was still the pathetic little fangirl who used to trail after Rhys like a lost puppy. Nothing I said would change that.
So I turned to leave.
I barely made it two steps before I caught a shift in the air behind , then that overpowering floral cloud Catherine called perfu hit my nose.
A split-second later, her heel clipped the back of my ankle.
I pitched forward, barely catching myself before I faceplanted.
Before I could turn around, she yanked the long white tablecloth with both hands. Drinks, cakes, fancy canapé towers—all of it crashed to the floor in one glorious, sticky ss.
The entire ballroom snapped to attention. Heads whipped round so fast, I swear I heard a few necks crack.
And right on cue, Serenna threw herself into the spotlight like she’d rehearsed for it. ‘Oh no! Mirabelle just trashed the party! She’s ruining everything!’
The words had barely left her mouth before there was a loud smack.
I shook out my stinging hand. ‘You tore the tablecloth off and tried to pin it on . You think I’m blind?’
Catherine clutched her cheek. ‘It wasn’t ! It was you! You pulled it by accident... I swear...’
Yvaine snapped out of her shock and delivered a slap of her own, this one right across Serenna’s pretty little face. ‘You really thought that stupid stunt would work? You think everyone here’s as thick as you?’
Serenna screeched. ‘How dare you hit ! I saw it with my own eyes—Mirabelle ruined the party on purpose!’
She grabbed a random glass of wine off the wreckage and aid it at Yvaine’s face.
I lunged to block it, but the wine still splashed down Yvaine’s shoulder, soaking half her dress.
I had been holding back all night. I really had.
But that was it.
I grabbed Serenna by the hair and yanked. ‘Go on. Try throwing another drink. See what happens.’
Serenna howled like a dying cat, scrabbling at my hands.
Catherine tried to rush over to help her, but Yvaine blocked her with a shove.
‘You want a scene?’ Yvaine said, wild-eyed and grinning. ‘Fine. Let’s give ’em a bloody show.’
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