Chapter 64
That white dress was the best thing Selene owned–her only outfit nice enough to wear in public.
Felicity’s voice rang out, bold and brash. “Hey, pretty girl–come over here and have a drink with us!”
The young woman’s face blanched with panic. She shook her head frantically. “I–I don’t know how to drink.”
A cold laugh rumbled in Felicity’s throat as she turned to the men lounging nearby. “Is this your type? “Let’s give it up for this man! Free at last–congrats on the divorce and welcome back to the single life!”
Felicity led the rest of the crew, waving a giant banner that read “Happy Divorce, Harrison!” She’d even hired people to blast party horns and shower confetti all over the place.
“Mommy, what’s Aunt Felicity doing?” Daph asked, completely bewildered.
“She’s dragging your Mr. Vaughn into public humiliation,” Selene replied, squeezing Daph’s hand as they took the long way around the commotion.
From across the room, Felicity caught sight of Selene slipping away with her daughter and let out a smug little laugh.
Harrison braced himself and strode over to Felicity. “What the hell are you doing?”
Felicity grinned, slinging
man! Time to celebrate an arm around his shoulder. “We’re throwing you a party,
your freedom!”
Harrison recoiled, his expression twisted in disgust. “Keep it down, will you? This isn’t exactly something to brag about.”
She just rolled her eyes. Harrison divorcing Selene was the best news she’d heard all year. “Come on, don’t be such a downer! Your old man already booked the best spot in town. This is your night–let’s live it up!”
That evening:
In the private lounge at the club, Felicity raised her glass high. “Here’s to Harrison–single again at last! May he be forever unburdened by domestic chains, blessed with endless women and bottomless drinks! Cheers to freedom!”
Everyone joined in, shouting, “Harry, happy divorce!”
Felicity started shimmying her shoulders, making ape noises and cracking
everyone up.
Harrison sat slouched on the sofa, a shadow clinging to him no matter how much he tried to shake it off. He picked up his glass, drinking in silence, his face unreadable.
Why did his chest feel so tight?
Seven years of marriage, and he’d never loved Selene. She’d taken the divorce papers and walked out–he should’ve felt relief, even triumph.
Instead, the whiskey burned all the way down, igniting something sharp and painful
inside him.
Felicity plopped down beside him, clutching a bottle of scotch. “To celebrate your glorious return to singlehood, yours truly has ordered a few lovely ladies, just for you! Trust my taste, Harry–each one’s better than the last!”
The others hooted and hollered. “C’mon, Flick, hook us up too!”
Felicity shot back, “Call me Daddy and I’ll get you girls too!”
The room erupted in laughter and playful shouting, everyone jostling and tossing half–joking insults at Felicity.
Just then, the lounge door swung open and a group of women in heavy makeup and tight dresses strutted in.
Felicity’s eyes gleamed. “Look, Harrison! See anyone you like? Pick one and I’ll let her stay and take care of you tonight.”
She nudged him, pointing out a woman with ample curves. “Check her out–she’s got a chest like two soccer balls stuffed under her shirt!”
Then she barked at another, “Turn around, let Daddy get a look–damn, that’s an impressive ass!”
Felicity kept up her rowdy banter, half for show, though she knew full well Harrison had zero interest in these surgically enhanced party girls. Their clothes were too revealing, their fake lashes looked like something out of a cartoon, and their makeup was thick enough to patch up a brick wall.
Next to them, Felicity looked downright ordinary–baggy bomber jacket, ripped jeans, messy chestnut hair loose down her back, the barest hint of makeup. Most guys assumed she wasn’t wearing any at all.
She poured Harrison another glass of scotch, topping it off with a flourish.
As Harrison lifted his drink, his gaze landed on a girl standing quietly in the corner. He froze, eyes narrowing in surprise.
Felicity followed his line of sight–and her smile vanished.
That girl looked nothing like the other women. Instead of sequins and bright colors, she wore a simple white dress. Her long, dark hair fell straight and unstyled over
her shoulders. She looked shy, almost lost, shrinking in
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to disappear. From the moment she walked in, she’d been completely out of place.
She was the picture of innocence, a rabbit dropped into a den of wolves–trying desperately to hide, but drawing every man’s attention anyway.
Felicity’s mood soured instantly. She understood exactly why Harrison was staring. The first time Harrison had met Selene, she’d been wearing a white dress too.
4
The harmless, wide–eyed kind? Even I–Flick–almost feel sorry
for her.”
“She’s adorable, like a little bunny!”
“Vaughn’s got his eye on her. We shouldn’t interfere.”
A sly smile curled on Felicity’s lips. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. Sit next to me,
won’t bite.”
The girl’s guard lowered. She made her way over to Felicity.
I
Without warning, Felicity shoved a glass of whiskey into her hand. “Go on, give Mr. Vaughn a toast!”
Then she nudged the girl forward, steering her straight toward Harrison.
The girl stood trembling in front of him, her eyes fixed on his cold, unapproachable profile. Her voice shook. “Mr–Mr. Vaughn…”
She offered him the drink.
The moment Harrison saw her face, his anger exploded, flaring hotter than ever.
It wasn’t her!
What had he been hoping for when he saw that white dress?
“Get out of my sight!”
He slapped the glass from her hand; whiskey splashed across her face.
She shrieked, startled and humiliated.
The entire room fell silent, everyone too afraid to make a sound.
None of the men lifted a finger to help. The girl crumpled, sobbing quietly.
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Felicity stood up and gently patted her back. “Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry! Your tears break my heart. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
She led the girl from the private lounge.
As they headed toward the restroom, the girl’s breathing slowed and her panic subsided.
“Thank you for getting me out of there. I didn’t know what to do. Mr. Vaughn is terrifying. My name’s Vivian Wyndham–what’s yours?”
Vivian looked at Felicity with a hint of trust.
The dim hallway lighting masked the wild, twisted gleam growing in Felicity’s eyes.
“What, you want to be friends with me now?”
Vivian nodded, earnest. “I think you’re a good person-”
Her words were cut short by a hard slap across the face.
Vivian reeled, stunned and ringing in her ears, as Felicity hissed, “Do you really think you’re worthy?”
They’d reached the restroom. Only then did Felicity make her move.
She shoved Vivian inside. Vivian, teetering on her high heels, lost her balance and
crashed to the floor.
Felicity drew back her foot and kicked Vivian hard in the stomach.
Watching the white dress smeared by the black mark of her shoe, Felicity felt a surge of satisfaction.
“Stupid bitch! Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Vivian let out a cry, but Felicity smothered it with her hand.
She rammed Vivian’s head against the tiled wall, then reached into her pocket. When her hand emerged, gleaming brass knuckles were fitted over her fingers.
A brutal punch landed on Vivian’s chest, then her stomach.
“Dressed like this–who were you hoping to seduce?”
“Pathetic!”
Felicity spat in Vivian’s face.
Only when she’d spent her rage did Felicity finally rise, pulled off the brass knuckles,
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and rinsed her hands at the sink.
Vivian sat crumpled on the floor, bruised and trembling, arms wrapped around herself as she shook uncontrollably.
Drying her hands, Felicity leaned in, her voice icy with warning. “If you want to survive in this city, you’d better not cross me. Every rich boy in Capital City is my friend. If I wanted, they could ruin you with a snap of their fingers.”
Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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