After work, I crashed Yvaine’s shoot. She was wrapping up a final round of photos for some artsy indie boutique no one’s heard of but everyone pretends to love.
When she finally changed out of a chainmail minidress and stilettos, we hit one of her regular haunts—this little boutique in West 7th called Spitfire. She’d sweet-talked the owner into holding a dress she claimed had my name stitched into the soul.
One look at the dress and I stopped breathing. Crimson satin. Plunging neckline. A thigh-high slit that could probably cause traffic accidents.
I gawked. ‘You’re kidding. I can’t wear that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just… not my usual style.’
‘That’s the point, honey. You’ve got one shot to stun a crowd and make a man spiral,’ Yvaine said, hands on her hips. ‘This is it. You’re not showing up as yourself tomorrow. You’re showing up
Thirty seconds later, the giant screen in the centre of the ballroom lit up, crystal-clear like some Hollywood premiere, every detail sharp enough to catch the sweat prickling on Catherine’s arms.From where I stood near the open door, I had the perfect view of the disaster unfolding downstairs.Rhys whipped around to stare at Catherine. ‘You said Mirabelle was stirring shit, pulling the tablecloth and trying to pin it on you. So explain to me why, in that footage, it’s your hand yanking the cloth, and Mira’s nowhere bloody near it?’Catherine burst into tears on cue, shaking so hard her diamond earrings rattled. She stammered for ages, blubbering, ‘Maybe I, I tugged it by accident? Mirabelle kept provoking me, and I panicked, I thought…’No one was buying it.Catherine grabbed Rhys’s sleeve. ‘Rhys, I didn’t mean to cause trouble! Mirabelle set me off!’Ashton cut in, ‘Miss Vance, the cameras record audio too. If you insist on your innocence, I can have them pull the full footage from
My brain was doing somersaults.I knew the Laurents were throwing this party, but I’d thought Ashton was just a guest, not the bloody host himself.Ashton hadn’t exactly lied to me, but neither had he told me the full truth.Then something his friend had said earlier lit up in my head, and I rounded back: ‘If this is your house, why the hell did you rent the flat opposite mine at Oakwood Apartments?’Ashton looked me dead in the eye. ‘Oakwood’s my company’s development. The whole building’s mine. I stay there sometimes.’‘That’s how you knew I’d moved there. I’m your… tenant.’He nodded.Another memory hit me between the eyes. ‘And La Vache Dorée? You own that restaurant too?’He nodded.‘And the bar?’ Damn it, I couldn’t even remember its name. ‘The one where we… the night we…’Another nod.My emotions were doing the cha-cha. Badly.Since the day I met him, Ashton had given off a dangerous aura, not murderer-dangerous, more like apex-predator-dangerous. The height, the build, the let
Chaos was breaking out, but Yvaine wasn’t exactly losing. She’d landed a kick on everyone who came near, even knocked one guy flat on his arse.‘All those kickboxing classes finally paying off.’ She even had the time to gloat to me.I nodded at her.That was when Rhys finally decided to show up, fresh from whatever mirror he’d been admiring himself in.He took one look at the scene and his face went from ‘Skyline City heartthrob’ to ‘incoming category five hurricane’ in half a second.‘Mirabelle! What the hell are you doing? If you’re pissed off, take it out on me! Leave Catherine out of it!’ he snapped, storming towards me.Moving fast, he grabbed my wrist, trying to yank my hand out of Catherine’s hair.But I wasn’t letting go.‘You stay out of it!’ I snapped, tightening my grip. ‘You just assume it’s my fault without even asking, yeah?’‘You’re literally dragging Catherine around by her hair! Am I supposed to pretend I’m blind?’The room was full of Skyline’s top-tier elite—the typ
‘So who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into getting engaged to you without telling anyone?’ Reginald demanded. ‘The least you can do is introduce her.’Reginald Laurent. Ashton’s biological father. Walking proof that money couldn’t buy competence.He looked the part—mid-forties, still in decent shape, sharp enough jawline—but inside? Empty.Everyone in Skyline City knew old man Edouard, king of Laurent Global Holdings, would rather set fire to his empire than hand Reginald the keys.The guy didn’t have the grit. Never had.Maybe Reginald knew it too. Maybe that was why he spent most of his time punching down, taking out his insecurities on people who could not punch back. Like young Ashton.Once upon a time, Ashton used to care. Used to wonder why his father treated him like he was something scraped off a shoe.But those days were dead and buried.Ashton did not even look up from his laptop. He had a conference call with London, Paris, and Frankfurt in two minutes. Reginald barging in
Yvaine suddenly found the floor fascinating. Her heels. A smudge on the carpet. Anything but my face.‘Yvaine,’ I said, sharper this time. ‘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 me,’ I said. ‘The only thing that could upset me 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 appointment 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 blood
Violet’s face twitched. She made a futile grab for the phone.The girl zoomed in obediently. Her eyes went wide. ‘There’s an M,’ she blurted. ‘Tiny, but it’s there!’A ripple went through the crowd.‘That’s the designer’s signature, right? The M?’ someone whispered, loud enough to be not-whispering.‘It says M. Bloody hell, it really is Mirabelle’s design!’Violet’s face went from ghost-pale to lobster-red in two seconds flat. She snatched her phone back and mashed the power button like she was trying to murder it.Too late. The whispers were already turning into open laughter. The kind that bites.‘If you’re gonna steal,’ I said sweetly, ‘at least do it properly.’I took two slow steps forward, stopping just short of her personal space, and gave her necklace a pointed once-over.My brow furrowed slightly, like I’d just spotted something nasty in my drink. ‘That piece around your neck shouldn’t even be here. It’s the prototype—the very first design. And last I checked, that thing was