Ruthless Heart

Everyone chuckles again, hopefully glossing over the damage of Nero’s rudeness.

“See you soon,” I add, steering Nero away. Sure enough, someone taps a glass for silence and takes to the stage area to start speaking, but I don’t stop until Nero and I are through a pair of French doors into the courtyard, out of earshot of the crowd.

“What the fuck was that?” Nero demands, yanking away from me the minute we’re clear. “I spent all night waiting to talk to the guy, and the minute we get close, you pull me away?”

“You were coming on too strong.” I tell him. “Bringing up business in the first conversation? That’s not how things are done.”

Nero scowls. “Yeah, well I do things differently.”

“Which is why you haven’t gotten anywhere,” I remind him. “Look around. No one is here to discuss business. This kind of thing isn’t about the fancy clothes or the booze or even the charity. It’s about forming connections that you can utilize later. This is a different game to the one you’ve been playing, and you have to know the rules, or you’re just wasting your time.”

Nero snorts. “I guess you’d know all about playing games, wouldn’t you, Princess?”

I flinch at the coldness in his eyes.

“Can you try not to insult anyone for the next five minutes?” I ask. I start moving away, but his fingers close around my wrist.

“Where are you going?”

His grip burns me. I take a deep breath. “The bathroom.” I point with a raised eyebrow. “Unless you plan to make me hold it all night long?”

“Come right back.”

“Don’t be so needy,” I can’t help teasing, then duck away before he can reply.

I know that I’m pushing him, but I can’t seem to help myself. He’s under my skin, and I need to hide that from him. It’s the only way to hold onto a shred of my pride.

I head to the bathroom, pushing through the door to find myself in a women’s lounge. There are dusky rose couches and chairs, a full sitting area complete with ornate vanity mirrors along the wall. A vase of fresh-cut flowers sits on the counter, and I breathe in the sweetness of them.

So feminine. So over-the-top.

The actual bathrooms are just beyond the lounge, four private stalls with sink and toilet. But I don’t go in there. I don’t really need to. I just want a moment to myself.

To get a hold of the emotions whirling in my chest.

Being here is throwing me for a loop. I’m getting a glimpse of the life I was supposed to be living this whole time. I was groomed to fit in with these high-society types, to be one of them. A life of luxury and ease.

After my family fled into Witness Protection, I didn’t let myself think about everything that had been taken from me. Why bother when it wouldn’t change my circumstances?

But there’s no avoiding what I lost now. It’s being thrown in my face.

Who would I be without the Barrettis burning my family to the ground?

I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. This isn’t the waitress at the shitty strip club staring back at me.

I’m a princess tonight.

The door opens, and two women enter. Fiona McKenna, and another familiar face. It’s Marissa Chambers, an friend from school. She comes from old money, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she was always nice and a fun time.

“It’s a disaster,” Marissa is saying, not noticing me yet. “My colorist moved to L.A. to work on the hair of actresses on movie sets or something like that, and I haven’t been able to find anyone that knows what they’re doing since.”

“You poor thing,” Fiona replies. “It can be a nightmare to find someone you can trust. It took me years before I finally discovered Gloria. She works at Marche salon on Fifth—”

“Lily?” Marissa interrupts Fiona as she spots me, and I try to look surprised, as if I wasn’t just eavesdropping.

“Marissa? Is that you?”

Marissa lets out a squeal and dives in for a genuine hug. Fiona is called away, and I silently curse at the missed opportunity to get to know her. She could definitely be a path in with her husband.