The Schemer (Harbor City 3)

Instead of quieting her, though, it only emboldened her. She threw back her head and laughed, a cheery tinkling noise like the sound of a bell attached to an antique shop’s door.

“That elephant still won’t fit in that bottle, will it?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You know what else won’t fit? You. No matter what you do or how well you pretend, you’ll always be the kid from Waterbury with the parents who beat on each other for entertainment and beat on you when you tried to stop them. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with Alberto’s business…” Something over his shoulder must have caught her eye because the words died on her tongue. Unfortunately, she didn’t lose her track of thought for long. “But her? Oh yeah, she’s definitely your speed.”

He didn’t need to look back to know who Irena was talking about, and judging by the satisfied look on her face, Everly was heading their way like a woman on a mission. He shot back half his Scotch in one swallow, trying to dull the feeling that came along with knowing she was coming here to defend him—something very few people had ever done before. God knew his parents never had. But by the time the alcohol burned its way down to his belly, the logical side of his brain had taken over. Everly didn’t give two shits about causing a public scene, which Irena had to be depending on and why she’d made sure to deliver her little speech with an uptight hotel board member nearby. Tyler couldn’t afford to let that happen, though, if he was going to make the deal that was big enough and sought-after enough to make everyone in Harbor City forget where he’d come from. How in the hell he was going to stop her, though? He had no fucking clue.

…

Everly knew Irena’s type. Rich. Insecure. Bitchy. That combination led to a pain-in-the-ass, high-maintenance customer at the gallery and a woman in dire need of correction in other circumstances like this one. She didn’t need to see Tyler’s face or hear their words to know Irena was up to the same bullshit she’d pulled out on the street the other day. That shit would not stand, not when it came to someone she loved. She nearly tripped in her favorite four-inch heels as the realization struck. It was the only explanation for the fury burning her from the inside out and the overwhelming urge to fight for Tyler when he wouldn’t fight for himself. You didn’t do that for fuck buddies. You did that for the people you loved.

Shoving the thought aside to be dealt with later when she wasn’t on the warpath, she put on her best don’t-fuck-with-me expression and stopped next to Tyler.

“Having a good time?” she asked, picking up her wine from the bar.

“Of course,” Irena said, flashing a brilliant smile that was about as real as the diamond studs in Everly’s ears. “We were reminiscing about the good old days.”

Tyler pressed his palm against the small of her back and said, “Everly, let’s go.”

“Yes, you really should enjoy this experience while you can,” Irena said. “It’s not like you’ll be getting more chances to attend events like this. People like you two may get a peek in at what happens upstairs, but you’ll always just be downstairs staff.”

Tyler flinched beside her. It was only minimal and most people wouldn’t have caught it, but she did. Everly had met plenty of people like Irena, where their entire self-worth was based on what others thought of her, and any threat to that opinion was met offensively. She was probably striking out before Tyler could put her down, discredit his words. It was a good strategy, but it was unnecessary. What was she, afraid he’d let everyone know what a bed-hopping fiancée she’d been? Clearly she didn’t know Tyler as well as she thought, because this man would never say anything publicly that might make him look classless. But that didn’t give her the right to take him down a peg. And she was going to do something about it.

Irena was a slimy bitch—one Everly had had more than enough of. Ignoring Tyler’s none-too-gentle push against her back, she stood her ground. He might feel like he had to play within some arbitrary rules of society, but she didn’t.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing to work for a living.”

“Oh no, I understand many people have to do it,” Irena said with a casual shrug.

In another situation, this would be an attack kind of moment, but a solid punch to the nose was too good for someone like Tyler’s former fiancée and, let’s face it, she’d never been a physical fighter when her words were much better weapons.

“You spoiled hag,” Everly said. And it was past time that she and the others like her heard it. At that point something clicked inside her that usually only went into fighting fury mode when it came to defending art or her family. She could quiet that loyalty urge, but only for so long in the face of someone like Irena, and time was up.

Tyler took a step away from the bar, his hand at the base of her spine steering her along with him. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

She turned to him, unable to understand how he could put up with even another second of this shit. “Exactly when is it, then?” she asked, her voice loud enough that heads turned. “You cannot let this woman get away with it anymore.”

“Get away with what?” Irena asked with mock innocence. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“Everly,” Tyler said, his voice full of warning. “Let it go.”

That wasn’t happening. She turned back toward the other woman. “Tyler and I may not have been born with a silver spoon in our mouths, but we’ve gained everything we have through hard work and determi

nation. All you did was be born—and look what you’ve accomplished with your life because of it. Nothing. Unless you count turning into the kind of woman who tries to cheat on her fiancé on their wedding night as an accomplishment.”

Tyler’s hand slipped from her back, taking his warmth with it. She was so caught up in the moment of finally putting Irena in her place on Tyler’s behalf that she barely noticed.

Blotchy red spots exploded on Irena’s cheeks. “How dare you talk to me like that!”

“Easily. Of course, it’s not your fault you turned into such a crabby bitch; it’s not like you had access to the best education, travel, and opportunities to better yourself.” Everly let out a dramatic gasp as fake as the crocodile tears filling Irena’s eyes. “No, wait. You did! You just have such a big oak tree stuck up your ass that you’ve never realized how lucky you were.”

“You two deserve each other. Why don’t you get out of here and go have some white-trash babies who’ll just end up sucking off the public teat,” Irena said, her words quiet enough that only Everly could hear them. “That’s what you people always end up doing.”

Everly’s wrist flicked before she realized what she was doing, and the wine from her glass landed with a splash against Irena’s face, the liquid running down her cheeks along with her mascara.

Irena’s jaw dropped, and she let out a squeal loud enough to get the attention of everyone around them. The crowd’s focus jumped from Everly to Irena, who gaped at her like a fish tossed onto the shore.

“How could you?” Irena asked, her voice filled with false confusion. “All I did was ask about your gallery.” She turned to an Italian man at the end of the bar who was one of the hotel board members. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. Please know it’s not a reflection on Alberto or Carlo.”

The men in question hustled toward the bar. Ever a Riverside girl, though, Everly clocked their position in her periphery and kept her focus on the lying bitch who’d done so much damage already. Carlo handed his fiancée a napkin from the bar. She smiled up at him like a woman who’d been horribly wronged.