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“Beatrix, enough!” Hadley snapped. “You sound ridiculous.”

“And not a commoner,” Beatrix added.

“A commoner?” I repeated, trying to look more amused than offended. Who the hell did these people think they were?

“Oh, come on,” Addison joined in. “You must see that one of us, one of the girls from his social circle, someone that grew up with him, would have made a lot more sense as his wife than a random model out of nowhere.”

“So if I’m a commoner, do you all consider yourselves American royalty?” I asked, a sardonic edge to the question.

I was the youngest there by several years, but I was quickly realizing that they were the sheltered ones.

Millie waved that off. “No, of course not. I think they’ve had a few too many.” She made a drinking motion with her hand, smiling to try to cut through the tension of the moment.

I respected her effort, but it didn’t work.

“Of course,” Addison answered with honest snobbery. She really believed the nonsense she was spouting. “We’re the closest thing America has to nobility, something you could really only comprehend if you’re one of us.”

“Do tell,” I said with a brittle smile, my eyes cold on hers.

She did. “We were taught impeccable manners practically from the womb. We all attended the same finishing school together, and it was the best there is. We were born to marry powerful men like our fathers. Men like your husband.”

“I guess he had other ideas,” I pointed out.

“We are fluent in social etiquette,” she plodded on as though I hadn’t spoken. “You don’t even know what that means, do you? I’m sure you received a crash course in it, but everyone here knows the difference. Except for you. Do you know that you’re not even holding your glass correctly? I won’t even tell you how many embarrassing faux pas you’ve committed since we got here.”

“Are you showing impeccable manners when you point out someone else’s faux pas?” I asked her, tone deadly calm. The more vicious she became, the less it affected me. If debutantes were created to show impeccable manners, models were made to endure harsh criticism. This twit had nothing on any random savage casting agent I’d ever had a run in with. “Just curious,” I added pleasantly.

Three of the other girls started to speak at once, and at first I thought for sure that they were backing up their friend.

I was wrong.

“Calm your tits,” Camilla scolded Addison.

“What the fuck, Addie?” Veronica exclaimed.

“That was rude,” Millie said to Addison in a sharp tone. “Apologize.”

Addison rolled her eyes, glared at me, and stood up. “You know what? If you’re going to unload on me just because I’m the only one here that’s not being fake as hell, I’m going to dance. Peace.” She held up both hands in peace signs as she strutted away.

I watched her until she’d disappeared through the door that led to the actual night club with envy. It had to be more fun in there than it was in here.

Three of the five women left apologized for their friend’s rude comments, and I shrugged it all off.

Was I offended? A little. Was I surprised? Not at all. Snobbery was the least of what I’d expected from the rich girl club I was being forced to hang out with tonight.

I contemplated taking the Addison route—just ditching them all so I could go dance with some strangers—but decided against it. I was still at the point where I was trying to play nice with them just to prove to myself that I could. If I was honest, though, I was about one easy strike away from ditching the whole crew.

Things had grown quiet and awkward after Addison’s dramatic departure. Everyone had taken to playing on their phones.

I did the same, wondering if they’d notice if I dug out my headphones and started watching some K-drama. It sure would pass the time.

I was still entertaining the idea when Millie started bouncing up and down in her seat, making excited noises.

I looked her way politely, since she seemed to want everyone’s attention.

“We have company coming!” she squealed.

“Did you hire some strippers?” I asked deadpan.