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Lilah, who had definitely surpassed her champagne quota for the night, let out a giggle and dropped her head onto Natasha’s shoulder.

“You don’t even know what priceless paintings hang on your own walls?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. The spitting image of her mother but looser in the way she moved, freer in ways Sasha Pryce rarely allowed herself to be.

“I know most of them,” Natasha replied with a smirk, tucking an arm around Lilah’s shoulders. “But there are rooms in this place I haven’t been inside for years. It’s a maze.”

“Got any by Sargent?” Lilah asked, half-teasing.

“I think so,” Natasha said, glancing down at Lilah with fond exasperation as she shook her head, her braids spilling over her shoulder. “But that’s off the record, so don’t quote me.”

Since Lizzie and Sasha began dating, two years ago, Natasha and Lilah had grown into easy friends. Natasha was the opposite of Lilah in almost every way. No one doubted Natasha was built to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She graduated high school at fifteen, top of her class, then breezed through college and all the way through Harvard Law, finishing early and again, top of her class.

“Mama likes him,” Lilah yawned.

Charlotte slipped away, back into the mansion, confident she once spotted a Turner in one of the small sitting rooms in the eastern side of the mansion. Most guests were out on the terrace but a few milled about in the inner sitting rooms. The hall she made her way down was deserted, most doors were closed, but light streamed into the dimly lit hall up ahead.

“Charlotte isn’t usually so affectionate with her girlfriends in public.”

Victoria’s snide tone filtered out, the odd echo adding an omnipotence to the disembodied voice. Memories of the games often accompanying that particular voice slid across her skin like oil slick, making her shudder.

Ali’s brighter voice floated out next, trickling through Charlotte like lemonade after hours spent working in her garden on a hot day.

“Guess she hadn’t found the right person yet.”

“And you think you are? She’s never even mentioned you.”

“Hey. That’s my line,” Ali quipped, not at all intimidated by Victoria’s demeanor. “But by my logic from earlier. Why would she mention me to you?” Ali shot back, all warmth leaving her voice. “She’s not yours to keep tabs on anymore. When she tells people about me is up to her. I’m a private person and I wanted to keep it quiet. Charlotte was respecting my wishes. You know, consent? No? Consent is the new sexy—Guess you missed that memo?”

Victoria scoffed, the click of stiletto heels echoed from deeper in the room. Charlotte crept closer, from her position Ali’s profile was visible where she sat on a sofa placed in the center of the room. No sign of Victoria but her voice came from somewhere behind Ali.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you aren’t even dating. You’re not even her type. I think this is some ploy to⁠—”

“To what?”

Ali cut her off, flaring temper just noticeable in her tone if you knew her well enough. Which Charlotte realized, she did.

“Make you jealous? Why the fuck would she waste anymore time and energy on you? You wasted enough of hers. Isn’t it more likely she moved on and wants nothing to do with you?” Ali’s hackles rose, her limited experience with Victoria enough to already elicit some form of response.

Which was exactly what Victoria wanted.

Victoria’s heels rapped against marble, continuing her search for Ali’s weak points. But Ali gave very little away. Perhaps working in the service industry provided the necessary skills to hold her own?

“There’s no way she’d be interested in someone as young and inexperienced as you.”

“Interesting assumption to make when you don’t know a thing about me. Do you even actually know how old I am?”

Victoria was silent for half a beat, never a good sign in Charlotte’s experience.

“She’s going to drop you once she gets tired of you.”

This fucking bitch!

Her jaw tightened, teeth gritting together as a glimmer of hurt flashed across Ali’s face. There one second, gone the next. Her stomach dropped before protectiveness filled the empty space. She dug her phone out of her deep pocket.

“Thank you for the advice. But don’t worry, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” Ali replied. “My advice for you is to worry more about yourself and less about my girlfriend.”

“No, it was due on my desk yesterday,” Charlotte stated, moving into the room to settle herself on the couch, close enough the press of their thighs together had her skin buzzing. “No, I was very clear.”