All Chapters of Choked And Claimed By My Brother’s Best Friend : Chapter 71 - Chapter 79

“There she is! I’ve got eyes on Montana!”I froze in the hallway, sixty bathroom selfies still fresh in my phone’s memory, as a tall redhead with a headset materialized like some corporate grim reaper.“Wait, no—”“Ms. Montana, thank God.” She grabbed my arm with the efficiency of a seasoned bouncer. “Jona, I found her. She’s here.”“I’m not—”“This way, please. First course starts in ninety seconds.” Her grip tightened as she steered me toward double doors. “Can’t have our keynote speaker missing dinner.”“Keynote what now?”“Don’t be modest. Your speech about overcoming adversity? Pure inspiration.” She practically shoved me through the entrance. “Room’s packed because of you.”The dining hall hit me like a visual slap. Vaulted ceilings painted with clouds, crystal chandeliers dripping light over two dozen tables draped in cream silk. Every woman glittered in gowns that cost more than my yearly salary.“Here’s your seat.” The redhead deposited m

“Thank you, but I’m all danced out.” My palm pressed lightly to his shoulder, trying to create distance, though his arm still held me secure at the waist.“Already?” Alonzo’s smile curved with amusement. His voice slid smooth as velvet, carrying just enough heat to make my chest tighten. “We’ve barely made it through one song.”“I need air.” My throat tightened. “Or a bathroom.” The words tumbled out fast, brittle, like glass cracking.“Dinner with me on Sunday.” He pivoted us effortlessly, guiding me through the tide of sequined gowns and black tuxedos, steering me to the far edge of the dance floor. His body didn’t let mine go, warmth radiating into me.“We’re having dinner now.” I tugged my hand from his, my fingers trembling in his grip.His gaze locked onto mine, unreadable, sharp as polished obsidian. “I doubt you’ll make it to the main course.”Before I could react, his fingertip skimmed a whisper-light line up my spine. Not even a real touch—barely pr

Peter was already snoring by the time I crept into the apartment last night, and gone again by the time I dragged myself out of bed. Thank God for early retirement-home shifts. If he hadn’t had to serve oatmeal at dawn, I’d have had to explain… all of it. And I didn’t have an explanation that made sense even to me.At least I could shove the dress into the back of my closet before he ever saw it.Unfortunately, my best friends weren’t as easily avoided. By nine a.m., Tatiana and Daphne had plopped themselves on my bed, surrounded by throw pillows, eyes fixed on the glittering heap of sequins and pearls that probably cost more than everything else I owned combined.“Jesus Christ,” Tatiana muttered, tilting her phone for better light. “That thing is worth more than my car and your car put together.”“Your car barely starts,” I reminded her.She snapped a picture anyway.Daphne gasped, clasping her hands like a Disney heroine. “Allie, this could be your old, b

Three days of radio silence. Three days of Peter skulking around his own apartment like I’d personally offended his entire bloodline. Three days of my inbox mocking me with automated rejection emails that didn’t even bother with my actual name.But at least Tatiana’s Instagram followers had money to burn. The Elie Saab dress sold within hours to some tech wife in Silicon Valley who probably had a closet bigger than my entire studio. Rent secured. Dignity intact. Sort of.Which meant I could walk into Constance Montana’s pink palace and tell her to shove her job offer somewhere the sun didn’t shine, even though her PowerPoint presentation had been disturbingly thorough. Color-coded spreadsheets detailing eight weeks of high-society theater. Charts breaking down her father’s multi-billion-dollar empire currently trapped in legal purgatory while nervous investors questioned whether daddy’s little princess could actually run a company without destroying it.The whole thing reeked of despe

Constance’s smile when I FaceTimed her from my bathroom could have powered the entire East Coast. Cheshire Cat had nothing on her level of smug satisfaction.“Wear the red dress,” she commanded before I could even finish explaining the impromptu brunch situation. “Have fun, make a good impression, and for God’s sake, don’t let him figure out you’re not me.”Right. No pressure.She hung up before I could ask what the hell I was supposed to talk about with a man who probably ate small businesses for breakfast and used corporate acquisitions as foreplay.Victor materialized at my door thirty minutes later like some kind of well-dressed grim reaper, the trunk of his car loaded with enough designer clothes to fund a small nation’s economy. Including the red skater dress Constance had deemed “too casual and too short” for last night’s corporate theater performance.Too short was an understatement. The dress barely kissed my thighs and made me look like I was playing dr