Frankie groans dramatically. “Don’t get too excited. These two are going to be engaged until we’re all in retirement homes.”
Hazel shifts, looking embarrassed. “Oh, you know, just taking our time. No rush,” she says, waving her hand dismissively, as if trying to brush away the attention.
Dante returns with champagne flutes balanced expertly in his hands. “I see you’ve met the oldest and youngest of the Hastings clan,” he says, passing me a glass. “And some of our adopted family members too.”
Dante drapes an arm around me, and I nestle into his side, taking in the scene before us. Even now, he holds himself slightly apart. Sure, he shares Brooklyn’s sharp steel edges, and his tattoos match Alec’s intensity, the way Leo’s chain echoes Dante’s rings. You can see his fire doubled in Frankie’s spirit.
Yet there’s something different about him, something you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him well.
I understand how being part of such an extraordinary family could push someone to either shine brighter or burn out trying.
A group of well-dressed executives is approaching us. The crystal glasses in their hands reflect the light like warning signals.
“Incoming,” I say to Dante and smooth my dress, mentally running through the talking points that Geraldine prepared for me.
Talk aboutRobyn Hood. Talk about working with Amara. Talk about all of the impressive stunt work I’m doing.
Focus on the important things.
“Dante!” A man in an impeccable suit completely ignores my presence. “The head of Red Bull wants a word about that charity initiative you brought up at our last meeting. Did you know he used to sit on the USFA committee? Could be a great connection for you to have with your review coming up.”
My tight smile falters. “Reese, come with me,” Dante says, his eyes bright with excitement. “There are some people I’d love you to meet.”
“No, no, you go ahead,” I say. “I think I saw some old friends from my last film.”
Dante kisses my cheek before he’s swept into a whirlwind of admirers. My stomach stirs with an emotion I’m actively filing underDo not examine too closely.
I should be happy for him. No, scratch that—Iamhappy for him. Getting to speak with someone who used to be on the USFAcommittee could be his chance to get his suspension lifted. His ticket back to the fencing world he loves and misses so much. The rational part of my brain is doing cartwheels of joy.
But there’s another part of me that feels exposed and scrutinized as I stand here alone. And based on the sideways glances and hushed conversations around the room, I don’t think my discomfort is just paranoia.
Across the ballroom,I spot a group fromLove and Loathing, including Amrita Gupta, Kyna Wright, and Jaxon Elio, huddled near the bar with a few other A-list actors. I hesitate, my stomach churning at the thought of approaching them—especially after that weird interaction with Jaxon at his birthday. But as I scan the room, I realize I’m running out of options. The Hastings family has scattered to their own social circles, and I refuse to be the clingy outsider trailing after them all evening.
Besides, I reason with myself, these are my industry peers. If I want any chance at salvaging my reputation, I need to start somewhere. Even if that means facing the very people I’ve alienated. Taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I make my way over.
“Hey, everyone,” I say, my voice carrying a forced lightness I don’t feel. The response is a chorus of mumbled acknowledgments and awkward nods.
Amrita’s eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before she deliberately turns away, angling her body to close their circle. Kyna, who last summer was begging me to consider a role in their upcoming project, suddenly becomes fascinated with their phone.
Jaxon, however, doesn’t hide his disdain.
“Well, if it isn’t Reese Sinclair,” he says. “Shouldn’t you be over there with Dante?”
“I—”
“We were just discussing the upcoming pilot season,” Amrita adds, her tone clipped. She pauses, taking a calculated sip of her martini. “Though with all your recent…press, I imagine you might be taking a break?”
The implication hits like a slap. These people, who once clamored for my attention at every event, are now treating me like I’m radioactive.
Maybe I am?
“Actually, I’m attached to several promising projects,” I lie, but Amrita’s already engaging Kyna in an obviously forced conversation about their new beach house. Jaxon’s eyes roll as he mutters something about reputation under his breath.
I stand there, the weight of their rejection settling heavy in my stomach. I’ve been in this industry long enough to recognize a subtle execution when I see one.
Gathering up what’s left of my dignity, I make my way to a quiet corner of the ballroom.
The whispers, the averted gazes, the way bodies physically shift away. I snatch a champagne flute from a passing waiter. Fragments ofdesperateandtrain wreckfloat to my ears and make me want to sink through the floor.
