Both Lance and Zeke turned at once to find Joanna’s eyes shining with unshed tears, her cheeks flushed. She was curled up in the corner of the car, looking utterly fragile, her whole body trembling ever so slightly. She seemed
heartbreakingly pitiful.
“Joanna, are you all right?”
“What’s wrong, Joanna?”
“Don’t come any closer.” Joanna shrank behind her seatbelt, her voice small and full of self–pity. “I’m just… feeling a little down. I’ve been away for so long–I just wanted to attend a ceremony in peace, see some old friends… I never planned to take anything, or steal anyone’s thunder…”
Lance couldn’t stand to see her so upset. Protective as always, he jumped in, “Joanna, don’t cry. I’ve already called in favors across the industry–there’s no way anyone’s lending that woman a dress tonight!”
“But I heard Mirabelle invited Celestine to be her design consultant. I’m terrified… Chester said he’s too busy to come tonight, and I… I really am scared…” Joanna tilted her head back, the diamond earrings dangling from her ears catching the light as her eyes shimmered with tears.
Lance wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but, as luck would have it, that insufferable Zeke was right there.
Something occurred to Lance, and a cold smile crept onto his lips. “So that’s the infamous design consultant Mirabelle found–Celestine, right? Figures. I haven’t even had a chance to settle the score with her yet, and now she dares show up in person!”
He remembered the debacle with the dress yesterday–Celestine must have orchestrated that fiasco, trying to threaten him. Pathetic. She picked the wrong
man to mess with.
“A woman who can’t even manage her own home wants to break into the world of fashion? What a joke.”
Joanna, don’t worry. Just wait–you’ll get a front row seat to their humiliation tonight.
After his Instagram post two days ago, Lance had refunded Mirabelle’s payment for the dress and even sent two tailors to “fix” it up for her. He’d also called every
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Chapter TUT
reputable brand in the business, making sure no one would loan Mirabelle a thing. Tonight, the only option she’d have was that feathered white fringe dress–cheap and embarrassing.
Sure, Mirabelle seemed to adore it. But bringing in her own consultant was a slap in the face to Zephyrus Atelier–an open insult. She wanted a free gown? Fine. Let her have it, and see how it feels to fall from grace.
Zeke had been listening, his frown deepening with every word. He’d stopped Mirabelle’s car at the entrance specifically to keep her from embarrassing him at the event. The way Lance was acting, it was clear he was up to no good–and he was about to drag Zeke into this mess, too.
“Enough with the pointless drama,” Zeke snapped. “I already told you, I’ve got people watching them at the venue. If you’re still worried, I’ll just call Mirabelle myself and tell her to back out of this ridiculous project.”
Joanna gazed at him, her eyes glistening with admiration. “Zeke, you’re amazing.”
Lance simply, turned away, refusing to look at him–he couldn’t bear another word
of it.
Zeke interpreted his reaction as pure sour grapes.
“Just wait and see. They’re in for it tonight.”
To Zeke, Mirabelle had always been nothing more than a pawn to keep Joanna steady. He never imagined that one day, his most reliable piece would team up with outsiders to turn against him.
He glared at the town car blocking the minivan behind it. No matter how clever Mirabelle thought she was, she was stuck here for now. He blamed it all on that upstart, Celestine she’d turned Mirabelle’s head and led her astray.
With a smirk, Zeke pulled out his phone and dialed. “Mirabelle, if you don’t have a proper dress, do us all a favor and don’t embarrass yourself tonight.”
The words had barely left his mouth when, suddenly, someone bolted out of the minivan–a slender figure making a beeline for the front of the car. It was Celestine herself.
Zeke scoffed. Did she think she could pull off some cheap stunt here?
If Bob, the driver, ran her over, so what? He’d gladly pay the damages–hell, he’d throw in a few hundred grand just for the satisfaction.
