The rooftop bar hummed with its usual symphony of soft chatter, tinkling glasses, and the muted buzz of exclusivity. I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, letting the cool, smoky aroma curl through my senses. Victoria sat next to me, her white-and-gold suit practically radiating dominance, the faint glow of her phone reflected in her sunglasses. She was in her element here—queen of all she surveyed.
And I, of course, was her gilded prize. At least, that's how she saw it. I wasn't about to correct her.
The mood was perfect, the night smooth. Until a certain Australian whirlwind decided to crash it.
"Can't believe I'm seeing you here, sweet-cheeks!"
Her voice hit like a bolt of lightning, loud and impossible to ignore. I didn't need to turn to know who it was—Speedy's presence was unmistakable. And, judging by the faint crackle of static in the air, she was in a good mood.
