Chapter 10
382words
When X Magazine invited me to their annual fashion gala, I silently thanked myself for choosing financial independence over romance.
I arrived in a white off-shoulder gown of my own design, turning every head in the room.
Including Blake's and Jane's.
Jane approached with champagne, assessed my dress, and whispered: "I'm sorry for everything. Blake and I are half-siblings—same father."
My mind raced—Jane remembered too?
Jane, noting my shock, clinked glasses, downed her champagne in one gulp, and strutted away.
Before I could process this, a clammy hand landed on my bare shoulder.
"Miss Swift, your designs are... stimulating. Perhaps we could discuss them... privately?"
I turned to see a man dressed like a rejected Vegas performer—a major sponsor's CEO—and instantly felt my dinner rising.
I removed his hand like it was contaminated: "Mr. Liu, you're too kind. I have nothing to teach someone of your... stature."
He squinted his already tiny eyes and leaned in, his breath hot on my ear: "Then let's... negotiate... in private."
Ugh! His breath was a biohazard—a toxic blend of garlic, whiskey, and decades of poor dental hygiene.
Trash can, trash can... I frantically scanned the room, spotted one in the corner, and bolted over, dramatically dry heaving.
"Y-y-you... you classless bitch! Are you trying to humiliate me?"
He pointed his pinky finger at me, spittle flying as he cursed.
I thought, what else would I be doing? Offending the canapés? I've lived two lifetimes—I'll destroy any creep who deserves it.
Seeing I wasn't intimidated and noticing the audience we'd attracted, this sleazeball actually lunged forward to kiss me.
I was preparing to spit directly in his face when a large hand smashed into his face, shoving him backward.
"Who the hell thinks they can touch me—"
"M-Mr. Hayes..."
Mr. Liu's voice died when he saw Blake towering over him, and he scurried away like a cockroach exposed to light.
Blake rubbed my back, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"
My stomach was still revolting—Mr. Liu's breath should be classified as a chemical weapon.
When a server passed, I grabbed what I thought was water and gulped it down, not caring who was watching.
Only after swallowing did I realize—holy hell—it was straight vodka.
