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“Enough, Isabella,” Antonio cuts in, sensing my discomfort. “Play nice.”
Her gaze flickers back to him, challenging him for a moment before she smirks and turns back to me. “Oh, Antonio, this is me playing nice.” She lets out a breath. “I have you set up over there. I wasn’t sure if you were bringing a date, so it’s only enough for one person.”
“That’s okay,” Antonio says quickly. “I’m not much of an artist anyway.”
He ushers me over to the spot, ignoring the look that Isabella sends him before she turns her focus to the people coming in after us.
“That was rough,” I comment.
“Yeah,” Antonio agrees. “She doesn’t really like new people, don’t take it personally.”
How can I not? Usually, people I meet like me easily enough, however that’s clearly not the case here. Is it because I don’t have money?
I focus on the easel in front of me, determined to just forget about the last few minutes of my life. Picking up a paintbrush, I dip it into the bright red paint and start to create an abstract piece.
Antonio is sitting carefree, ignoring all the looks and whispers being thrown our way. I wish I could stop myself from caring like he does, but I can’t. I feel like I’m in high school being bullied by the popular kids all over again.
“Are they all talking about me?” I ask quietly, unable to completely shake off the nagging feeling that I don’t belong here.
“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugs. “Who cares what they’re talking about? They’re middle-aged women who have nothing better to do with their time than to gossip. Don’t let them get to you.”
It’s Antonio’s way of being comforting, and I appreciate it. But all of this is new to me, and I just need a breather for a second.
“I’ll be right back.” I excuse myself from Antonio and the painting activity. I move down the hallway, past several closed doors, until I find the bathroom. Relief washes over me as I enter the pristine space, feeling the cool tiles beneath my feet. I turn on the faucet, letting the water run until it’s icy cold.
Cupping my hands, I splash the chilly water on my face, trying to erase the flush that creeps up my cheeks. The whispers and judgmental looks from the others are starting to take their toll on me, but I remind myself that it’s just one day.
“Harper,” a voice snaps, making me jump. Isabella stands in the doorway, her eyes narrowed and lips curled into a sneer. “You know that you don’t belong here, don’t you?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, meeting her gaze in the mirror. I reach for a paper towel, dabbing at my damp face.
“Antonio might be blind to your little act, but I’m not,” she hisses, crossing her arms. “You’re just like all the other gold diggers who’ve tried to worm their way into our family.”
Gold digger? Far from it.
“Look, Isabella,” I say, clenching my fists at my sides. “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but?—”
“Save it,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. “You don’t need to pretend with me. Just know this—I won’t let you hurt my brother. I’ll make sure that he sees through this little innocent girl façade that you’ve got going on.”
I feel my chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. But I refuse to let her see how much her words affect me. Swallowing hard, I force myself to remain calm.
“Antonio is a grown man, Isabella,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. “He can make his own choices. And for your information, I’m not a gold digger. I?—”
“Please,” she snorts, cutting me off, leaning against the bathroom door. “You expect me to believe that you, Miss Nobody from Nowhere, aren’t after his money?”
I frown. “How would you?—?”
“Oh, I looked into you, doll, hope you don’t mind. I knew everything I needed to know within half an hour, and there’s not much. You know your ex made good money. I just don’t understand what would make you want to move on from him. Maybe it was in the looks department that you felt you needed an upgrade.”
My hand balls into a fist at my side. “You don’t know anything about me, or my life.”
“I know enough. You’re just like all the others—greedy, low-class trash.”
My teeth clench. “Trash would know trash, wouldn’t it?” I’m not usually the kind of person to lash out, and from her face, she wasn’t expecting it.
“Pathetic.” Isabella shakes her head, her sneer deepening. “You really think you can hold on to him? He’ll see right through you soon enough. And when he does, he’ll toss you aside just like all the rest.”
All the rest? How many women has Antonio been with? And why don’t I know about any of them?
