If Devon Vance thought fleeing to the far side of the ballroom to hide behind the chocolate fountain was going to save him, he had severely underestimated the sheer, terrifying momentum of a broke twenty-two-year-old in three pounds of fake pearls.
I didn’t just walk across that ballroom.
I swept through it like a localized hurricane in a white-streak wig, with Chloe happily trotting beside me like a newly liberated hostage and Julian trailing behind us like a nine-hundred-dollar-an-hour dark cloud.
“Where is he going?” Chloe giggled, taking a tiny sip from a fresh glass of sparkling water.
“He looks like he’s trying to blend into the wallpaper.” “He can try,” I drawled, adjusting my oversized Chanel sunglasses.
“But cheap cologne leaves a trail, darling.
Follow the scent of desperation, bruised ego, and chemical citrus.” We cornered Devon near the high-roller appetizer station, right beside a five-foot ice sculpture of a swan while he was frantically trying to down a double shot of scotch while talking to a tall, silver-haired man in a bespoke tuxedo—Richard Montgomery, the corporate vulture Julian had warned me about in the limousine.
“…I’m telling you, Richard, the woman is completely deranged!” Devon was pleading, his face still flushed a violent shade of beet red while he dabs his sweaty forehead with a silk napkin.
“She just appeared out of nowhere!
Julian is hiding something, I know it—she’s not a real matriarch, she’s a—” “Talking about me behind my back, canoe boy?” I boomed, stepping straight into their tight circle with my mink coat swinging violently.
Devon choked on his scotch, coughing so violently he nearly sprayed the silver-haired mogul’s three-thousand-dollar suit.
Richard Montgomery slowly turned, his sharp, predatory gray eyes assessing me from my sleek silver hair down to my pointy Italian leather heels.
“And who, precisely, might you be?
I’ve known the Sterling family for thirty years, and I’ve never seen your face on a single board of directors.” “That is because I spend my winters in Monaco and my summers ignoring people who ask stupid questions,” I said without missing a beat.
I turned my head toward Julian, who had glided up smoothly to my left, looking entirely too satisfied.
“Julian, who is this silver fox?
Is he the catering manager?
Tell him the mini quiches are tepid and the crab cakes desperately need a pinch of salt.” A quiet, choked sound came from the back of Julian’s throat.
He covered it with a quick, remarkably fake cough.
“This is Richard Montgomery, Lady Sterling.
Head of the Montgomery Group.” “Ah,” I said, tilting my head back to stare at Richard through my dark lenses like he was a bug under a microscope.
“The hostile takeover man.
I’ve read about your sad little attempts on our board, Richard.
Very cute.
Very persistent.
It reminds me of my neighbor’s stray terrier dog trying to fight a delivery truck.” Richard’s jaw tightened so hard I heard his molars grind.
“I assure you, madam, my business strategies are far from cute.” “Oh, they’re downright adorable!” I insisted, waving a gloved hand dismissively in his face.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Richard, step aside.
I am currently in the middle of a public execution, and you are standing in my splash zone.” I turned my full, terrifying focus back to Devon, who was actively trying to press his back into a decorative marble pillar in a desperate attempt to escape my line of sight.
“Now, Devon,” I began, pitching my voice into a booming, theatrical scale so it carried across the surrounding crowd of fifty eavesdropping billionaires.
“Let’s talk about your little ‘proposal’ strategy.” “I have nothing to say to you!” Devon hissed, clutching his glass like a shield.
“You ruined my moment!
You humiliated me in front of the entire room!” “You ruined your own moment the second you brought a one-carat diamond to a Sterling heiress,” I said, stepping right up into his personal space.
“Do you know what a real man gives a woman he respects?
He gives her security.
He gives her devotion.
He does not give her a glass chip he bought on layaway to bail out his father’s failing cargo docks!” “It was not on layaway!” Devon yelled, his voice cracking violently like a teenage boy going through puberty.
“Page twelve of your public financial filing says otherwise!” I lied at the absolute top of my lungs, pulling a completely random, folded piece of paper—my fake Monaco family tree—out of my vintage clutch and slapping it dramatically against my palm.
“Your family’s flagship vessel, the S.S.
Maritime, has been parked in a dock in New Jersey since March because your daddy can’t afford the government fuel tax!” Devon’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
“How…
how could you possibly know about the S.S.
Maritime?!” (Thank you, Julian, for making me skim page twelve in the limo while Genevieve was spraying my hair.) “Because I read balance sheets for fun while my facialist massages my feet!” I snapped, poking him hard in the shoulder with my gloved index finger.
“You didn’t want Chloe’s heart, Devon.
You didn’t even want her company!
You wanted her trust fund so you could buy diesel fuel and new propellers!” Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd.
Two elderly women actually covered their mouths in synchronized horror.
“Is that true, Devon?” Chloe asked, stepping forward with total, magnificent dramatic precision.
She clutched her chest, her eyes wide with performative grief.
“You only loved me for my diesel fuel?!” “No!
Chloe, wait, it’s not like that—” “I am disgusted!” Chloe declared, whipping around to me.
“Mother, tell him to go away!
He smells like poverty and hidden liabilities!” Oh, she is getting a gold star for this performance, I thought, fighting every urge to burst into a full belly laugh.
“You heard the heiress!” I shouted, pointing a dramatic gloved finger toward the grand gilded exit doors.
“Take your tight suit, your four-hundred-dollar mosquito spray, and your fuel-less boats, and march your little canoe fleet right back to the docks!” Devon looked around the circle in sheer panic.
Richard Montgomery was shaking his head in absolute second-hand embarrassment, actively taking two steps back to disassociate himself.
The nearby socialites were openly snickering into their crystal flutes.
Three different waiters were hiding behind the chocolate fountain, vibrating with suppressed laughter.
“You people are insane!” Devon shrieked, his face turning an unspeakable shade of purple.
“This entire family is clinically insane!” He grabbed his coat off a chair, knocked over a small display of decorative cloth napkins, and sprinted down the red carpet toward the valet station at a full, embarrassing jog, his leather shoes squeaking loudly on the polished marble.
Silence fell over the appetizer area.
I took a deep, dramatic breath, smoothed down the front of my vintage mink coat, adjusted my giant sunglasses, and turned back to Richard Montgomery with a dazzling, utterly terrifying smile.
“Now then, Richard,” I said smoothly, taking a fresh crab cake off a waiter’s tray and taking a delicate bite.
“As I was saying…
these are dreadful.
Call the manager.” Beside me, Julian leaned in close, his shoulder brushing mine.
His dark eyes were burning with something far deeper than amusement, and I could feel the heat radiating off him in the cool air of the ballroom.
Julian leaned in slightly, his looming shadow blocking the light of the nearby chandelier.
His dark eyes remained cool and unreadable, though a dangerous, sharp edge cut through his quiet tone.
“Unorthodox, wildly unhinged, and completely uncivilized, Miss Fox,” he murmured, his low voice brushing past her ear so only she could hear.
“Though I admit…
watching you dismantle Montgomery’s ally in five minutes was worth every cent.” “That,” I whispered back through my static aristocratic smile, “will cost you a tip.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Bel_Rose And that is how you put a corporate vulture and a fortune hunter in their place!(^~^) Roxie using the limo study session to roast Devon’s actual tax filings was pure genius, and Chloe crying over her “diesel fuel” stole the entire scene!
But did you catch that shift in Julian?
The ice-cold billionaire is officially fascinated.
What was your favorite line from Roxie’s second public execution?