4

“So, where is your highly irresponsible boyfriend?”

Theron’s voice cut through the air like a blade, his gaze sharp enough to pierce skin.

I inhaled a tight breath, steadying my nerves. “He couldn’t make it.”

“What a pity.” His lips curled with amused contempt as he stepped closer, closing the space between us. “But are we really speaking of a boyfriend… or just a forgettable date?”

What kind of twisted game was this? And what the hell was he after? I clenched my jaw.

“Does it matter?”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “I suppose not, as long as he’s not here.”

His eyes roved over me, deliberate, too measured to be casual. I stayed perfectly still.

“May I know your name?”

Air left my lungs in a slow exhale. Relief tried to creep in, but instinct kicked harder this could be a setup. My gut screamed not to trust him. It was safer to lie.

“My name is”

“Amaris!”

Romilly’s voice pierced the moment like an arrow.

“There you are!” she called.

Damn it. She’d seen me, but clearly hadn’t registered who I was talking to. If she got any closer, this entire thing could go downhill fast.

“My friend’s looking for me,” I told Theron with a strained smile. “I should go.”

I didn’t wait for permission. I spun on my heel and made a beeline toward Romilly, snatching her hand and tugging her away from the chaos.

Her eyes went wide. “Was that... was that Theron Lockhart?”

“Yes,” I whispered, panic gnawing at my composure. “And he was acting weird. I need to get off this yacht.”

Romilly grabbed my wrist, frowning. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not some high school intern anymore and he already fired you. What’s he gonna do now? Toss you overboard?”

I flinched. “Can he?”

She cursed under her breath and fixed me with a stare. “You are not running away. I just turned you into a goddess. That dress is doing unspeakable things, your makeup is on point he probably doesn’t even recognize you as the same person he fired.”

She wasn’t wrong. After Romilly’s glam magic, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. But could I risk staying?

My legs drifted toward the exit, but Romilly yanked me back. “Ami, don’t blow this. There are three hundred guests on this yacht. Three hundred. You’re going to let one man ruin the night?”

“Three hundred,” I echoed.

With so many dazzling, rich women in that crowd, it would be nothing short of divine intervention if Theron’s eyes landed on me again.

I exhaled. “Fine. I’ll stay.” I plucked a flute of champagne from a passing tray.

“Excellent choice,” Romilly said, clinking her glass against mine. “We’re going to have a night to remember, Ami.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, eyeing the bubbles as if they held a secret antidote to my anxiety.

Moments later, the yacht detached from the dock. I could only hope this wouldn’t spiral into disaster.

By the time the ceremony began, the champagne had worked its magic, fizzing warmth through my bloodstream until I drifted into a blessed state of I-don’t-give-a-damn.

Romilly, Boaz, and I snagged seats in the back row, far from the aisle and the ostentatious white-feathered arch.

Violin strings soared, and the bride made her entrance.

Dovie Alcott glided down the aisle in a gown that likely cost more than my entire annual salary. Her brown hair was perfectly curled and pinned, no doubt to anchor the glittering tiara on her head.

“Must be nice having a rich daddy,” Romilly muttered beside me. “Too bad money can’t buy taste. I bet she thought those feathers would make her look angelic she looks like a pigeon that flew into a power line.”

A laugh slipped from me before I could stop it. I slapped a hand over my mouth. “You’re awful.”

“I’m honest,” she shot back with a grin.

I only hoped her brutal honesty would take a back seat when it came time to congratulate the couple.

When the ceremony finally ended, the alcohol haze had thinned, and I was painfully sober. I could hear Ansel’s deep laughter and Dovie’s nasal giggles echoing off the marble deck.

A strange wave of sorrow swept over me. I no longer loved Ansel, but I hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to picture a future with him to believe in it. A part of me still grieved that girl who once believed he was the one.

With a sigh, I stepped into the line of guests. Romilly and Boaz followed closely.

There he was. Ansel. Navy tux, posture proud, chin up.

I braced myself. My confidence coiled in my spine, and I walked forward, head high, red dress hugging my frame like a second skin.

“Congratulations,” I said to Dovie, my voice honeyed. “The ceremony was beautiful. And your dress is... exceptional.”

A flicker of confusion crossed her face before she covered it with a polished smile.

“That’s very kind of you… Petra, was it?”

I clenched my teeth. “Amaris.”

She forced a breathy chuckle. “Of course.”

Ansel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His eyes drank me in, slow and deliberate. Exactly as Romilly predicted.

I met his stare, chin lifted, every inch of me a silent declaration: You don’t own a single part of me anymore.

A slow, smug smile curved my lips. “Congratulations, Ansel. Looks like you two were made for each other.”

His mouth opened, but no sound followed.

I turned to leave, satisfaction rising like a tide until his voice shattered it.

“Slut.”

The hissed word slapped the air like a whip.

Gasps scattered around us. I turned back slowly, jaw clenched. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he sneered. His eyes raked down my body with disgust. “Is that why you came? Hoping to reel in some rich idiot to bail you out?”

Each word hit harder than the last. Shame and fury twisted in my chest.

Romilly’s eyes burned, but I lifted a hand to silence her.

Ansel wasn’t finished.

“I’m glad I dumped you. You acted so pure, but look at you now finally showing your true colors.”

My hands trembled. “I came to congratulate you. That’s all. You’re the one making a scene.”

“Oh, I’m ruining things?” he mocked, stepping closer. “You waltz in dressed like a whore and expect what? Applause?”

Pain flared through me, hot and unbearable. I wanted to speak, to fight, but the words choked on humiliation.

“You even lied about having a boyfriend,” he spat. “Where is he, huh?”

“I--”

“There is no boyfriend.” He laughed. “You’re just a liar and a desperate”

A hand landed on my shoulder.

“There you are,” a rich, velvety voice interrupted. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I turned slowly, breath catching. Emerald green eyes. Theron Lockhart.

What was he doing? Was this rescue or something more dangerous?

“M-Mr. Lockhart?” Ansel stammered.

Theron’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. “I believe you’ve been speaking disrespectfully… to my date.”

Ansel paled. “Y-your date?”

I was stunned into silence, but instinct told me to play along.

Dovie jumped in, flustered. “Mr. Lockhart, my husband he’s had too much wine. He was only joking. Please, forgive him.”

Theron arched a brow. “Forgiveness is hers to give.” He turned to me, eyes gleaming. “Do you want him to apologize?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His lips curled. “Yes, what?”

“I want him to apologize.”

“Good girl.”

Then, louder, to Ansel: “Well?”

Ansel seethed. “I apologize.”

Theron tilted his head. “Again. Mean it this time.”

“I apologize,” Ansel said, teeth grinding.

Theron still wasn’t satisfied. “For what?”

“For… my insults. I was disrespectful.”

“Better,” Theron said, his grip tightening on my waist. “And what do you really think of my date?”

Ansel’s jaw ticked. “I think she looks beautiful. The dress suits her.”

Finally, Theron nodded. The crowd audibly exhaled.

He guided me away, around a corner into a quiet corridor, his hand finally leaving my waist.

I opened my mouth to thank him, but he beat me to it.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, leaning in close. His lips brushed my ear. “Amaris.”

I gasped.

He grinned wickedly, his gaze locking on mine.

“See you later, Amaris.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Was that a simple farewell… or a warning?