She settles beside me, placing her clutch on the counter and fussing with her hair, though not a strand seems out of place. It’s an act, something to occupy her hands, much like brushing off an invisible piece of lint. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and she offers a cool smile. Suddenly, it clicks, like the few remaining pieces of a jigsaw puzzle sliding into place to form the whole picture.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” I ask politely, but what I really want to ask is,Why the hell are you following me?
“I’m Rachael.” She extends her hand with a subtle air of superiority. The back of her hand faces upward, and I hesitate before grasping it in a weird, dainty handshake. If she expects me to kiss it, she can fuck right off. “I’m Dameon’s fiancée.” I drop her hand like a lead weight, my eyes widening.
“Oh, I take it he didn’t tell you?” she taunts, a cruel smile playing at her lips as a wave of dread washes over me.
What. The. Fuck.
With practiced ease, she retrieves her lipstick from her clutch and applies it, her gaze never leaving mine in the mirror.
“I know who you are, Hailee. And I know what you’re doing with my fiancée.” I stand, frozen, as she dabs gloss over her lips with her finger.
“And once your contract is through, he’ll be done with you, and we can move on with our lives. You’re just a temporary distraction. He promised me a future, and I can wait while he has his fun.”
There’s something off about this woman. The more she talks, the more her words feel hollow. Coming out of my stupor, my eyes narrow at her in the mirror.
“I don’t believe you. Dameon would have told me.”
Finished with her preening, Rachael turns to face me, her clutch tucked under her arm.
“We dated eighteen months ago, and there were no contracts and no NDAs. He trusts me. Can you say the same?”
Ouch.
Her words sting and I swallow hard, the magnitude of her implications hitting home just as she intended.
“You don’t belong with him. If you think you can sink your claws into him, you’re severely mistaken. You’re nothing but a two-bit whore who sucks like a Hoover,” she says, eyeing me up and down.
My spine stiffens. “More like a Dyson,” I quip, the corners of my lips tugging up. She flushes red, and I swear steam almost comes out of her ears. But beneath the surface of her anger, I sense a simmering instability. My shock and dread have quickly morphed into amusement. For a moment, I thought Dameon had lied to me. But it’s becoming obvious this woman is delusional.
“When he’s done with you”—her voice drips with malice—“and mark my words, hewillbe done with you, I’ll be there waiting. And if you try to interfere, you’ll regret it.” She pushes past me, making me stumble in my heels and leaving me shaking my head in disbelief.
Did she just threaten me?
I wade through the crowd and spot Cora looking rather bored, while James appears to give a seminar to the group of men surrounding him. When we make eye contact, I tilt my head toward the balcony. She excuses herself, kissing James on the cheek, and meets me halfway.
“Oh my God, did you see Evelyn’s face? That was absolutely hilarious!” Cora exclaims, and we burst out laughing. I can’t believe I did that. I just hope she wasn’t anyone important to Dameon.
We step out onto the balcony, where I’m hoping we’ll find a reprieve from the humidity, but the stifling night air doesn’t bring the expected relief.
“Gosh. I’m sweating my tits off.” Cora grabs a tissue from her clutch and dabs between her cleavage.
I look out over the manicured gardens lit up by spotlights. It’s unbelievably beautiful here, a reminder of the kind of life people like Dameon and my mother take for granted.
“You wouldn’t believe who I ran into in the bathroom just now.”
“Who?”
“That woman from the restaurant who was staring at me. I’ve just remembered, I saw her with Dameon in New York as well. She claims to be his fiancée.”
“Are you serious? He’s not engaged,” Cora snorts.
“That’s what I thought,” I say, fanning my face with my hand in an attempt to cool down.
I need a drink.
Glancing at the bar, I spot Dameon conversing with a leggy blonde. Her back is turned toward me, so I can’t get a glimpse of her face, but I can see that her bright pink dress has thigh-high slits on both sides, revealing long, toned legs. She throws her head back in laughter and playfully swats his chest, flicking her hair around as if she’s got a bee stuck in it. Dameon doesn’t seem to be laughing along with her, but he also doesn’t remove her hand from his chest.
