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The vein between my brow twitched. “Well, you’re the only shallow, pointless friend that I’ve got, but now that you mention it, there’s plenty I don’t forgive you for.” I flashed her my teeth. “I’ll work on it.”
“Work on that flabby ass too, bitch. No one calls me shallow.”
I choked, grabbing my backside. Sanders swept into the room.
“Miss Sinclair, here is your—”
“Yum. I’ll take that.” Katie whisked my food off him and smooched my cheek. “Text me later. You’re staying at my place this weekend.”
I watched her go, as always, confused. Fine. Call me a flabby-bottom bitch, invite me to hang out, then take my food. You can wake up in the maze tomorrow.
“Hmm. I like the Chanel, but not with those shoes,” Saylor said, stealing my attention. “Ugh. Hideous. Donna— Debra— Whatever. You, change into the Versace chain pumps.”
The lady brushed past me to get the shoes. Saylor glanced up, fixing on me like she was finally deigning to notice my presence. “Sinclair, you came. We had a bet going that you wouldn’t.”
Sliding past her, I landed on Gabriella. This lady in particular reclined on the chair by the window, farthest from everyone. Huge, round heavy shades covered half her face, but not enough to hide her puffy cheek, swollen lip, or the black and blue bruise leeching down her nose. The updo, on the other hand, did a great job disguising the bald patch.
“Yep, I came,” I replied lightly. “I endured the degrading routine at the gate, and then that silly show with three manservants running out to welcome me into your grand abode. If you’re done trying to intimidate me with how rich you are, I’d like my ring back.”
Saylor granted me a slow, curling smile. “That was no show. Every guest is treated the same. But it is interesting to hear you find my wealth intimidating. Any other pathetic insecurities you want to share?”
“Yes, sometimes I worry that no matter how long I pickle my heart in brine, it’ll never get as sour and twisted as yours. On those days, I kiss a picture of you, Saylor, and remind myself that if you can be such a frigid bitch, I can too.”
Ice frosted her stare. “You shouldn’t worry about that, Dreg. You’re already there.”
“Saylor. Luna,” Katie warned. “I know you’re not here to trade insults, so get to the fucking point.”
“Sticking up for the Dreg again?” Gabriella spoke up. “Gee, Katie, I’m starting to think you came here to protect her, not hang with us.”
I narrowed on her. She had time to be nasty while her victim was in a hospital bed eating through a tube? Annika was no angel, but the Royals didn’t have to prove every second of every day that they didn’t give a shit about anyone else.
“She’s not here to protect me,” I replied. “She’s here to protect you. Looks like someone kicked the shit out of you. Sorry I missed it.”
Gabriella’s lips disappeared in a thin line. “No one gave you permission to speak to me, you trashy, broken-condom mistake. Ironic you talking about someone getting their ass kicked. The last time I saw you, you were crying in the dirt.”
The models shuffled to the side, looking like they wanted to shuffle all the way out of the room.
I cupped my ear. “What was that? All I heard with that busted lip was muh muh I’m trash, muh muh lower than dirt.”
Gabriella flew off the chair.
“Enough,” Saylor barked. “Sinclair, you are here for a reason, and it’s not this. I had hoped with this week to reflect, you’ve decided to make the right decision for everyone.”
My hands curled into fists behind my back. “You mean breaking it off with Victor?”
“To start.”
So the news hasn’t gotten around yet. He already dumped me.
“What’s the end, Burkhardt? Why do you care some much? And don’t give me any crap about Everleigh or protecting the noble heir from a horrible match. Why do you want this so badly, you brought me here after getting me jumped, hitting me, and taking my ring? You had to know I was liable to come here and give you a face to match Gabriella’s.”
Gabriella bared her teeth at me.
“If you think you scared me into bowing and scraping at your feet, you’re wrong. So tell me the real reason you brought me here, so we haven’t wasted both our time.”
Saylor leveled me a long, flat stare. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking beyond those light pools. Her coldly beautiful face gave nothing away.
She held up a hand. “You can go,” she ordered her human mannequins. “Sinclair, follow me.”
Saylor swept out of the room, slippered feet silent on the gold and red marble. I kept my distance behind her as we rounded the corner. A portrait loomed at the end of the hall. I recognized Saylor immediately. A little younger; cheeks slightly rounder; the same haughty twist to her mouth, and a coldness in her eyes. Some people are born bears.
