The sleep had been so solid and deep that I did not hear Theron leave, and did not even feel Brittany get up.
I was awakened by the sound of the microwave.
I went out into the living room and saw Brittany unpacking food from restaurant bags. Most likely, Theron had sent it.
"Are you going to eat?" she asked when she noticed me in the doorway.
"Sure," I nodded and headed toward the bathroom.
"And is he really just your boss?" her voice carried after me.
That girl would not leave me alone about Theron now. I stayed silent, unwilling to develop the topic. Especially with her.
What was I supposed to do next?
I did not even know whether I was still working, whether I was under someone's protection, or whether I had already become a hostage. I did not understand what my status was now.
Should I write to Ostin after everything that had happened and ask? Or would that already be insolence?
While the food was heating, I decided to look for a job in advance. But as soon as I opened my phone, I saw a message from Ostin.
13:22 — "Today is the Christmas auction. You need to be at the address. Dress code — strict, no office suits. Start at 20:00." — Ostin
The next message was the address of that very hotel, "Royal."
I immediately dialed Derek.
"Hi. How are you? Alive?" I asked without waiting for a greeting.
"So far, yes. After all, you're not nearby," he smirked, pointedly hinting.
"I need to be at an event today. Will you sit with Brittany?"
"Pizza and wine are on you," Derek replied calmly.
"Done."
I quickly ran to the store for wine. The guards had not gone anywhere — they kept their distance but followed my every step. On the way back, they even offered to help carry the bags.
In the evening, Derek came over, and I, with obvious reluctance, headed for the wardrobe — rummaging through old clothes in the hope of finding something decent.
"Do we have plans for Christmas?" Brittany asked, devouring pizza.
"We can take a walk or go for a nice dinner at a restaurant," I answered. "Choose something yourself."
My head was already full. I did not want to think about everyday trifles as well.
I understood that at this evening I would inevitably meet Amy. And she was undoubtedly pleased with her attempt to intimidate me.
My gaze stopped on a red evening dress with completely bare shoulders and back. I had always considered it unsuitable for my body.
But today was exactly the day when it was worth wearing — proudly.
Without hesitation, I picked suitable underwear and black shoes. On the way, it would most likely be cold.
But it was worth it.
As soon as I walked into the living room in my look, silence fell.
Brittany looked at me with doubt. Derek — with obvious pleasure.
"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly.
"Is there something wrong with the dress?" I clarified caustically.
"In my opinion, it's the perfect option," Derek finally said.
"Are you blind or what?" Brittany bristled.
"On the contrary. I see everything perfectly well," he replied calmly. "Let others see it too."
He had always understood my actions well. After what had happened, we still had not managed to talk, but that understanding had not gone anywhere.
"Put on a scarf," he reminded me. "In a dress like that, a coat won't save you — you'll be frozen through in a minute."
"Right. Thanks," I began looking for a scarf.
A couple of minutes — and I was ready to leave.
I had not even managed to step outside when security was already escorting me to the car.
Honestly, it was convenient: no need to catch a taxi and freeze in my experimental dress.
As at all Vescari events, it was noisy here: many famous faces and wealthy people.
And with Christmas — even more luxurious than usual.
Today I was not going to be compliant or good.
The plan was simple: arrive, give everyone a reason to be horrified, get drunk, and calmly go home.
As soon as I took off my coat, the voices around became quieter. The looks — directed at my body.
I knew it would be like this.
I took a glass of champagne and headed toward the table with appetizers. I was not looking out for anyone — neither Theron nor Ostin. I did not understand at all why I had been invited here.
But I could allow myself to enjoy delicious and expensive food.
"Mirey," an agitated voice called out to me.
I turned around and saw Travis. Like the others, he was examining my scarred body. He approached cautiously, as if I were a monster to be feared.
There was whispering around us. Someone did not even hesitate to point with a finger.
Apparently, no matter how much money people have, it does not teach them manners.
"I'm sorry, I just…" he began.
"In shock," I finished for him. "I know."
I was finishing a tartlet with black caviar, completely ignoring the contemptuous looks around.
"I didn't know. I'm sorry, that was probably rude of me," he radiated awkwardness.
It seemed he wanted to talk, but did not know how or where to begin.
"What happened?" he finally squeezed out.
"My stepfather amused himself by beating me," I answered calmly.
At that moment my gaze caught Amy. She was standing in another part of the hall and was just as shockingly examining me from afar.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," Travis repeated again.
I aroused genuine pity in him.
Behind my back came a male voice, theatrically clearing his throat. Travis heard it too.
By the scent of the perfume, I already knew who it was.
I did not turn around. I did not grant him my attention.
"Let's talk later," Travis immediately retreated.
Was he afraid of Theron?
"You know how to attract attention," Theron said quietly.
His fingers slid along my back — from my waist upward.
I saw Amy watching us.
"Sorry, but I feel nothing like pity," he leaned down, and his cold lips touched my shoulder.
I froze.
What was he doing — and in front of everyone?
The next kiss landed slightly higher.
"You are damn beautiful today," he whispered into my ear. "A little more — and I'll have to greet guests sitting down."
He touched me with his lips again, and I turned to face him.
He was behaving too recklessly, doing this in public. And Amy saw everything.
"What are you doing?" I whispered.
"I have the same question for you," Theron threw back just as quietly.
His eyes gleamed as he examined me from head to toe.
He was the only one who never looked at my scars with disgust or horror. A moment from our night burst into my head — how he slowly, deliberately traced my scars on my inner thighs with his lips and tongue.
I sharply shook my head, pushing those memories away.
"I wouldn't want to interrupt you, but, Theron, you are expected," Ostin cautiously intervened.
Irritation immediately appeared on Theron's face.
"Don't leave her," he ordered Ostin.
"I think that's impossible. I need to be with you," Ostin objected at once.
"Damn…" Theron thought for only a moment. "Then let security come over."
"That's unnecessary. Nothing will happen. Go," I finally intervened.
I did not wait for new orders and returned to the table with appetizers and champagne. Carried away by the process, I still caught looks on myself.
My scars were like a red signal. No one touched me, no one tried to talk — they kept their distance.
I found Theron with my eyes. He was talking with Amy and Ostin; an unfamiliar man stood nearby.
Amy was all tenderness and grace, occasionally laughing and covering her smile. Two-faced bitch.
Out of anger, I drained the glass. Then another.
When our gazes crossed, Theron burned straight through me. He seemed to no longer listen to the conversation — he looked only at me. Harshly. Angrily.
I demonstratively downed another glass of champagne in one gulp. His hand trembled.
And then an idea came into my already fairly drunk head.
Reckless. Stupid.
I let the strap of my dress slip from my shoulder, completely baring my collarbone.
And I saw how Theron's jaw tightened. A little more, and the glass in his hand would have cracked.
I immediately fixed the dress and turned away.
This was not a game I should be playing with him.
I had clearly drunk too much, since I decided to test his nerves.
Nervously emptying another glass, I realized that I was noticeably intoxicated.
At that moment, everyone was informed that the auction would begin soon and guests were asked to proceed to the main hall.
I headed for my coat instead. Better to go home. In heels, I was already standing poorly — swaying, losing my balance.
Stepping outside, I sobered up sharply. The cold air seemed to wash away all the alcohol.
Two guards appeared in front of me. Interesting — was this a warning or already control?
"Mirey," Theron's voice sounded calm.
I turned around. He was walking toward me in his expensive suit. Fortunately, he did not look angry.
"Did you have a good time?" he asked, pulling me closer to him by the coat.
"Boring," I almost yawned. "Evenings like this aren't for me. I don't understand at all why they make me come to them every time."
"And that's why you get drunk every time?" Theron leaned too close.
"Yes," I tried to pull away, but he only pressed me harder, holding me by the coat.
"Theron," a saccharine female voice called out to him.
I knew it was Amy, but still tried to peek out from behind him to make sure.
He immediately intercepted me by the coat from the front and pulled me back to himself.
"Wait until I arrive," he gave another order.
I habitually rolled my eyes but did not argue. Especially — in front of Amy.
But…
He let me go.
"Stand still," another command. The one I wanted to break.
He took off his tie and put it into the pocket of my coat.
I froze.
This…
I could not utter a word. This was the last thing I expected.
He silently turned around and left, gallantly opening the door for Amy.
She, too, stood rooted to the spot, shifting her gaze from me to the tie sticking out of my pocket.
I sobered up completely.
What the hell just happened?
Theron Vescari.
I had been waiting for this conversation. More precisely — I had provoked it myself.
"Theron, what is going on?" Amy protested.
I could understand her. For two years, I had indeed given her preference.
"I didn't think you even had enough courage and audacity to ask anything after what you did."
"But the tie — that's too much," she stubbornly insisted.
"Too much is when you decided you have the right to touch what belongs to me. Too much is when you led me in circles with your 'yes' and 'no' for two years and still think you can be indignant."
The anger I had been holding back broke through.
My hand closed around her fragile neck on its own.
"It seems you've forgotten who I am."
I pressed slightly. Tears appeared in her eyes.
Her hands helplessly clutched at me, slapped my shoulders — hoping that I would let go.
I could break her neck right now. That would solve everything much more easily.
I loosened my fingers.
She staggered back and began to cough.
Her family was too rich, and she was too prominent a figure. Murder was not an option.
Besides, I would not allow her to derail my plan. I was getting out of crime.
"Know your place. I brought you into this sphere. You love art — then do that."
"You…" she cleared her throat. "Why her?"
An expected question.
"With her, I don't need to look over my shoulder. And think about knives in my back."
I had long understood that Amy was not a gentle or beautiful flower. The story with the stepfather only confirmed it.
"You will regret this," she still dared to say.
"You have no idea how much I am holding myself back. And you'd better not test it," I tried to resist the anger to the very end. "Out of respect for your parents, I will not destroy your business or career. But if you cross the line one more time…"
"This is not a threat," she immediately tried to justify herself. "It's a fact. What will happen. You will regret choosing her. I was always the best option for you — by status, by families, by every measure. I am better. And you know it."
I looked at her calmly.
But you are not HER.