Chapter 6
Chapter 6:
The Pierre Hotel was the epitome of old-world New York glamour. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the hundreds of guests sipping champagne below.
Jocelyn entered through the service entrance.
She wasn’t wearing a gown. She wore a simple black dress under her work blazer, her left hand heavily bandaged in white gauze. She clutched the thick folder of documents against her chest with her right hand.
She felt like a crow in a cage of peacocks.
She scanned the room. It didn’t take long to find him.
о𝘳gа𝗻i𝗓𝘦 𝗒𝗼𝗎𝗿 𝘭𝗶br𝗮𝗋𝘆 𝗼𝗻 ѕ.𝘤𝘰m
Kieran was in the center of the ballroom, holding court. He was laughing, his head thrown back. Beside him, Aspen Schneider preened in a silver gown that clung to every curve, a diamond ring on her finger flashing like a beacon every time it caught the light.
Jocelyn took a deep breath. Just get it over with.
She moved through the crowd. People parted for her — not out of respect, but out of confusion. She didn’t belong.
“Mr. Douglas,” she said when she reached him.
Kieran turned. His smile vanished instantly, his eyes raking over her outfit with undisguised disdain.
“You’re late,” he said coldly. “And underdressed. This is a black-tie event, Jocelyn p>
“I’m not here for the party,” Jocelyn said flatly. “Here are the merger files p>
She extended the folder.
Kieran didn’t take it. He swirled his drink, looking bored. “Put them on the table over there. I don’t want to hold them p>
Aspen turned then. Her eyes lit up when she saw Jocelyn — not with warmth, but with the predatory gleam of a cat spotting a wounded mouse.
“Jocelyn! Darling!” Aspen squealed.
She lunged forward, enveloping Jocelyn in a cloud of perfume and a performance of an embrace.
“We missed you in Paris!” Aspen cooed, pulling back but keeping her hands on Jocelyn’s arms. “It was magical p>
Jocelyn stepped back, trying to disengage. “Hello, Aspen p>
Aspen’s gaze dropped to the bandaged hand. “Oh no, what happened? Did you hurt yourself p>
“Kitchen accident,” Jocelyn muttered.
“You poor thing!” Aspen exclaimed, loud enough for the nearest clusters of guests to turn their heads. “Let me see p>
Before Jocelyn could react, Aspen seized her injured hand with both of hers.
“Aspen, don’t p>
Aspen smiled sweetly, looking directly into Jocelyn’s eyes. And then she squeezed.
She dug her manicured nails directly into the burn beneath the gauze.
Jocelyn gasped. A sharp, white-hot bolt of agony shot up her arm and blinded her for a fraction of a second. Nausea crashed over her in a wave; the glittering ballroom swam out of focus, and a cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
“Aspen, let go!” Jocelyn hissed through gritted teeth, pulling against the grip.
Aspen held fast, her fingers like iron. “But I’m just worried! You need to be careful, Jocelyn. You’re so clumsy p>
“Aspen is being nice,” Kieran said from behind his glass, watching. “Don’t be rude p>
The pain was unbearable. It felt as though fire were eating through her skin.
Jocelyn wrenched her hand back — a reflex of pure survival.
Her elbow caught the tray of a passing waiter.
Crash.
The sound of shattering glass cut through the ambient chatter like a gunshot. Champagne sprayed in every direction — over the waiter, across the marble floor, and over the hem of Aspen’s silver gown.
The ballroom went silent. The music seemed to stop breathing.
Aspen brought a hand to her mouth in a flawless performance of shock. “Jocelyn! Are you drunk p>
Kieran stepped forward, his face darkening.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, his voice carrying easily through the hushed room.
Jocelyn stood amid the broken glass, clutching her throbbing hand against her chest. She looked around. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on her — judging, pitying, entertained.
She was the villain in their story. The clumsy, bitter ex-girlfriend, making a scene.