Rewriting Fate With The Alpha I Hate
Soft music twirled through the air, along with the rich scent of money and power, mingled with the stale scent of pheromones and sharp perfumes.
The ground was colorful, with ladies dressed in their own levels of elegance.
Their eyes held envy, a mixture of jealousy, which was strange because I never considered myself pretty—maybe somewhere between average.
As for the men, their lips curled with smiles as if they were watering their prey before claiming it.
"Freya, you look amazing."
Spinning around, I spotted Mrs. Queen moving toward me with a glass of wine.
She looked amazing, quite young for a woman of over forty years old. Every detail of her gown screamed attention to detail.