Zara's POV
A hot flush crept up my cheeks as I got carried away by the electric sensation of his kiss on the back of my hand.
"You don't need to put on the sweet act like this," I flustered, pulling my hand from his.
"Glad you found it sweet, Ms. Shamari." He smirked, teasing. He got me.
"That's not—"
"Ssh…" He cut me off, bending his head slightly to meet my eyes. "You want us to put on an act now." He winked at me.
His tone was playful, as if we needed to make a role play.
He straightened up and added with exaggerated politeness, "Thank you for the dance, Ms. Shamari. It was such an honor to dance with My favorite chef tonight." He rambled on, making it sound like a casual, lighthearted encounter.
I was confused by what he meant, but a soft grasp on my arm made me turn my head. It was Thalia, her hand curled tightly around Tom's arm as he stood beside her.
"I didn't know you two were close enough to dance together, Ravier," Tom said casually.
"Haven't I mentioned?" Ravier replied with that effortless charm. "There's a chef from The Amethyst who caught my attention with her exquisite lobster mousse. And she happened to be here."
When he mentioned my special dish that became one of the best sellers, it threw me off for a moment. I hadn't expected him to bring it up, let alone praise it like that.
"Oh, that dish was something special, wasn't it?" Thalia chimed in with her fake sweet voice as her hand snaked around my arm. "Zara really worked hard to balance the flavors—sweet, salty, tangy. It was her first dish I fully supported."
I barely had a chance to respond before her grip tightened, her nails subtly digging in—a silent warning that I should play along.
"And it wouldn't have gotten the attention it did if I hadn't pushed her to serve it, right, Zara?" Thalia kept talking, her words deliberate as her grip tightened. Her eyes flicked to mine, daring me to disagree.
I let a bitter smile tug at my lips, feigning agreement, and tried to pull my arm free. My stomach churned with her act. The way she painted herself as my savior, made my insides twist. Her sugary voice was a bad aftertaste I couldn't swallow.
"Thank you, Mr. Auckland, for the dance and the compliment. It's an honor to know you're a fan," I said, forcing a polite tone. "And… If you'll excuse me?"
Ravier gave a soft nod, his smile small but understanding, his eyes briefly meeting mine in a way that told me he knew exactly how I felt.
I turned quickly, needing to escape before the nausea took over. Somewhere behind me, I vaguely heard Ravier inviting Thalia to dance. It didn't matter. My legs felt shaky, my head light. I kept moving, each step faster than the last as I went to the restroom.
***
I didn't know how many times I had washed my face, but I was still here, still not dreaming. My stomach churned, a sick feeling rising in my throat like it wanted to throw up but couldn't.
It hit me then—I hadn't eaten since noon. A quick glance at the clock on my wrist told me it was 10:30.The party should've been over by now.
I stared at myself in the mirror. "What did I just do?" I muttered to myself.
My mind was a mess, torn apart by what had happened tonight.
I saw the necklace hanging from my collarbone, I brought this tonight with the intention of returning it to Ravier. But now? Why the hell had everything turned out like this?
I felt like I had just sprinted from a pack of wolves, cornered at the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go. The only escape was to leap into the abyss. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, a wave of determination hardening in my eyes. There was no turning back now.
I stepped out of the restroom and saw Martin waiting by the hallway. Our gazes met for a brief second, but I quickly turned away, continuing down the corridor without a word.
"Can't you just give me a break tonight? I didn't have the strength left to deal with you too." I kept walking, Martin was the last thing on my mind right now.
But he didn't let me go. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to face him.
"Zara, please..." he pleaded, those damn eyes of his twisting my insides like a knife. My heart throbbed painfully, and I gritted my teeth, trying to fight off the ache that threatened to consume me.
"Don't look at me like that. I—I will talk to you, but later. Give me some time alone." My voice barely came out, tight and strained as my throat closed up. Martin's expression softened, and guilt flashed in his eyes before he slowly, reluctantly, let go of my wrist.
When I turned to leave him, I saw Thalia walking fast toward us with a furious look like a storm about to break. Her fists were clenched, as if she were ready to punch me.
The moment she reached me, her hand whipped across my face. The crack of the slap echoed through the hallway, and heat surged instantly on my cheek, sharp and burning.
"W—wait, Thalia! What the hell are you doing?" Martin's voice cracked with the urgency of worry as he stepped forward, trying to position himself between us. But Thalia ignored him and pushed him aside, her focus locked on me as she stepped closer, her anger seeping into every step.
"How dare you dance with him?" she spat, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. "I told you—we're getting married soon." I never saw her lose composure like this.
I could barely contain the sneer curling on my lips as I wiped my stinging cheek. "Why the hell are you so worked up?" I shot back, my tone biting with sarcasm. "You're fucking around with Martin, even though you damn well know how I feel about him."
"That's different—"
"Why so?" I raised an eyebrow, "Because there's no commitment between me and him, and you thought I'd just be fine with sharing him? You still haven't married Ravier, right? So, I thought you wouldn't mind sharing him on the dancefloor, too."
"Are you avenging me?"
"Oh, Thalia… Just had a damn dance is nothing compared to what you did to me."
Her chest heaved with frustration, but she wasn't backing down. "You should know your place better than to cross the line, Zara."
"BUT YOU DID! You crossed that line first." My voice rose, sharp and desperate. "Is that okay for you, but not for me? At least I danced with Ravier right in front of you. Revenge you say?" I paused and smirked. "You don't really want me to go there, Thalia." I felt my heart pounding as my blood simmered with rage. The heat in my eyes was burning now.
Now I knew why I was so angry about her fling with Martin. It wasn't a sense of betrayal—it was the fact that the woman was her. I couldn't stand how she kept getting under my skin.
Thalia's gaze was just as fiery, but there was something else there, something calculating. Her eyes flickered as she carefully chose her next words.
"Is it about your father?" she asked, her voice laced with a cold curiosity. "You heard me talking about it, didn't you?"
I felt the shift in the air, the tension in her words. She should have brought it up before I overheard her if she wanted to tell me the truth. But it was too late.
I tilted my head, a wicked grin curling on my lips. "You look like a kitten stuck in a box, Thalia. Why?" I paused, and lean in closer. "Do you really think someone like me going to mess with your precious wedding? Are you that afraid?"
"Why should I? Afraid of you?" she stuttered, her wicked chuckle unable to hide the nervous edge in her voice. "If it's about your father, just ask, and I'll tell—"
"Don't bother yourself… I'll never believe whatever gibberish comes out of your mouth."
Her expression faltered for just a second, but she quickly masked it with a mock smile. "So what now, huh? What are you going to do? You wanna beat me? You sure have the confidence to do that?"
"Beat you?" I scoffed. "I'm not looking to go that far, though." I paused, "But, torturing your pride and watching you flinch like this? That amuses me way more Thalia."
Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. She couldn't counter my words. It felt like I'd just handed her a double-edged sword, and someone like her wouldn't make a move unless she had an escape route.
I walked past her, my shoulder brushing against hers as I moved. Just as I thought the silence would swallow us whole, her voice sliced through the tension like a warning.
"You'll regret this, Zara. I'll make sure you do."
I turned, my gaze dripping with bitter irony. "Regret?" I scoffed, my tone low and biting. "Regret is a term for people who have something to lose. You know it well, Thalia. I've got nothing left to lose." I shot her one last glance before walking away.
Walking the fine line for so long had started to make me numb. I should've known better—nothing had been safer than becoming morally grey in a world full of soul-sucking billionaires.
***