A few hours ago I would have hesitated to draw attention to myself, but I was a different person now. World-weary. Battle-hardened. The sting of my own rude awakening was too fresh to permit another innocent to have her hopes dashed.
My eyes met the Beauty’s. “You’re the one he was flirting with.”Reallyflirting with, as opposed to randomly glancing at while absconding with a chair. I should have recognized the back of her head. “Alex Ritter.”
“And?” the Contessa prompted. “Is there a problem?”
I let out a long breath. “You could say that.”
Madam CEO frowned. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Trouble,” I replied.
“What kind of trouble?” asked the Crimson Contessa.
There was no point prevaricating. “The kind that ends with somebody getting run over by a train.”
Dear Diary,
I’m sure someone (maybe Van?) told meAnna Kareninawas a love story. To which I say: thanks A LOT. If that’s what passes for romance, I’ll happily stay single forever. I’d describe it as a train wreck but that would be a really bad pun.
Talk about a relationship that was doomed from the outset. As anyone with half a brain would have known. Poor Anna may be nice, but she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. And don’t even get me started on Vronsky.
M.P.M.
Chapter 4
The blonde clunked her glass onto the table.“Excuse me?”
The Contessa waved the other girl to silence, her eyes never leaving my face. “Do you know him—Alex?”
Summoning my courage, I took a step closer. “Kind of. I knowofhim.”
“Alex Ritter.” Madam CEO repeated. She looked me up and down, face taut with suspicion. “Who are you anyway?”
“Mary Porter-Malcolm.” Whenever possible I gave my whole name, becauseMaryby itself was sorely lacking in gravitas. “But that’s not important right now.” I turned to the Beauty. “Alex Ritter may seem charming, but he’s dangerous.”
“Oh,” the Beauty breathed. “One of those.”
Madam’s frown deepened. “One of what?”
“Like a gentleman strangler,” the Beauty replied. “Handsome but deadly.”
That wasn’t quite what I’d been trying to convey. Clearly it was time for the gloves to come off. “I’m sorry to say that he’s a Vronsky.”
The Crimson Contessa gasped, fingers flying to her mouth in a flurry of jade green polish.
Madam looked from her friend to me. “A what now?”
“Not what,” I corrected. “Who.” From their silence, I gathered they were having difficulty digesting the news.
“Maybe you should sit down,” suggested the Contessa.
Feeling only slightly more out of place than I had behind the counter, I pulled out a chair.
“I’m Arden,” the Crimson Contessa informed me. “And that’s Terry.” She pointed to the Beauty.
“Teresa Larios,” the dark-haired girl supplied, pronouncing itTe-RAY-sarather thanTe-REE-saand rolling therin both names.Teresa,I silently repeated. That was much more fitting. She needed a name that danced on the tongue, like Beatrice or Titania. I spared a moment to wishMaryhad a longer, more mellifluous form.
“Lydia.” Madam CEO extended an arm. Her small hand squeezed mine like a vise, but that wasn’t the part that surprised me.
