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Once again, Charlotte reanimated, winding an arm around her waist, tugging her close.

Victoria gingerly shook her hand, eyes sweeping over her form, narrowing into sharp points where Charlotte’s hand rested over her hip. She let go of Ali’s hand like she was carrying something contagious.

Victoria’s face curved into a barely contained sneer. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

“And why would she tell you?” Ali asked in faux confusion, looking up at Charlotte with wide eyes. “Who is this—” don’t say bitch. Definitely don’t say cunt. “—la-dy?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Charlotte replied, affection blossomed, softening the harsh chiseled lines of her face, a look in her eye implying Ali hung the moon.

“fiancée, actually.”

Ali pretended not to hear that bit.

“Well then, definitely why would she tell you?” she asked, splaying her hand over Charlotte’s chest like a shield. “Would be a little weird.”

“We’re still quite close.”

“Other than letting me know she was engaged years ago, she has literally never mentioned you,” Ali shot back with zero hesitation, earning a stifled snort from Charlotte. “And I know where she spends her free time. So, definitely not that close.”

Victoria’s attention shifted back to Charlotte. “Are you going to let her talk to me like this?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry if I hurt your feelings,” Ali gushed, the picture of repentant innocence as she cupped her own cheeks. “It’s the red hair. I just say the things everyone is thinking out loud sometimes. It gets me into trouble.”

Charlotte pressed a kiss to her temple before murmuring just loud enough for Victoria to hear, “Just the good kind, darling.”

Victoria’s jaw clenched, looking between them, hatred burning in her gaze. Her pointed chin lifted high into the air as she stormed away.

Round one, to me!

She was definitely… probably planning Ali’s untimely demise.

Ali watched her go, releasing a maniacal little giggle and lifting her fist, holding it out to Charlotte, who bumped it with her own.

Ali made an exploding motion with her hand.

“Boom.”

9

CHARLOTTE

Champagne continued flowing and dinner was served out on the terrace beneath flickering candlelight. Charlotte intentionally sat them at a particular table, placing Ali right next to Natasha Pryce, Sasha’s daughter. All the Pryces carried an unmistakable family stamp; flawless chestnut skin, features that landed somewhere between sharp and soft, and auras that filled any room. They were all tall, except Natasha, who was tiny but mighty for twenty-seven and the kind of woman who made others break eye contact first.

Satisfaction sparked in Charlotte’s chest when Ali and Natasha hit it off like old friends. Natasha’s real laugh—not the one deemed acceptable for polite society—rang through the warm evening air.

“Did you know that my grandmother collected art like Charlotte collects plants?” Natasha asked, her tone unapologetic, edged with playful bite, a smirk dancing at the corner of her mouth.

Ali’s eyes lit up. “I can’t say I was aware of your grandmother’s… hobby until this very moment.”

Natasha let out a delighted laugh, clearly thrilled that Ali wasn’t pandering. “I have a feeling an artist like you would lose your mind in her gallery.”

And so, Natasha, goddess braids draped elegantly over one shoulder, swept Ali off on a tour of the mansion, a task that—given the estate’s size—took a fair amount of time.

But when Natasha reappeared, arm in arm with Lilah and no Ali in sight, Charlotte’s concern churned in her gut. There was no immediate sign of Victoria, but Charlotte had been glued to Lizzie, too busy dodging Victoria’s pointed smiles and lingering stares to notice her slipping away.

Muttering a curse under her breath, Charlotte wound her way through the crowd, making a beeline for Natasha.

“Hey, Ali just ran off to the bathroom,” Natasha said, her tone casual but alert. “She mentioned wanting to get a closer look at one of Grandmother’s paintings. A Turner, I think.”