“No! It’s not like that at all. It’s just…I guess a part of me knew you’d talk me out of it.”
Talia shot her a look that saiddamn right. Then she exhaled, gathering herself. “Tell me what I have to do.”
Emily’s smile was bittersweet. A part of her still struggled with this revenge thing. She never thought she’d be the type to settle any kind of score—she’d been trained to let things go. But this was something she feared she couldn’t turn a blind eye to. Not with such a bruised ego. Not when her heart still longed for some kind of justice.
And if the universe wasn’t going to give it to her, she’d have to seize the opportunity herself.
8
The venue for the show was crowded when Emily got there. She predicted as much as most people in this industry liked to be fashionably late. Firstly, because there were always wardrobe malfunctions. Secondly, because most of them were attention-seekers.
Sadly, arriving with that crowd made her no different.
When Emily exited the private limousine, camera flashes instantly went off. All the paparazzi taking pictures of another person scrambled to her presence.
Their lights were blinding.
Her nails dug into her palm as her heart rate accelerated.
Deep breaths, Emily. Deep breaths.
Adorned by a sexy, Valentino red dress, she made her way past the flashing lights. She could tell they were surprised. She knew exactly why. Usually, they saw her in outfits matching the innocent girl they grew up watching on TV. This look was a stark contrast to that.
Talia let them take pictures until a particular reporter started his nonsense.
“Emily, why did you change your mind about appearing tonight? Afraid you’ll lose what’s left of your influence if you don’t show up?”
She tilted her head, not surprised that they still lacked creativity in their questions.
“Okay, folks! That’s enough!” Talia interjected, leading her inside the venue.
“I swear, they come up with the dumbest questions,” she muttered once they were alone.
Emily let out a laugh. “Honestly? I’m more impressed by their consistency.”
The ballroom they entered sparkled with shined floors and chandeliers. Soft jazz filled the space. The charity’s elite donors and influencers were still finding their way to their seats.
Talia tapped her shoulder and pointed in the direction that landed at three o’clock. “There’s our target.”
Her manager was really committing to the whole James Bond theme. She had warned her earlier that she’d treat this like a covert operation.
“Stop watching so many action films!” Had been Emily’s response.
Her eyes dragged over to see none other than Stella chatting up a storm, surrounded by a group of men.
Red.
Talia’s informant had been correct about her dress color.
She’d made sure to wear the same.
“I’ll check if everything’s ready to go. Just make sure she follows you backstage,” Talia whispered before disappearing.
Emily grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter before she made her way over to their “target.”
Catching sight of her, Stella visibly stiffened. She sized her up, her eyes quickly swallowing the outfit she wore.
She smirked when she noticed Stella’s hands balling at her sides.
