er pulled up to the c

eavy oak door. It was an exclusive, underground

owed the hostess down a dimly lit

re a sharp, tailored navy suit. When she

ack, her eyes scanning the bandage o

neat glass of whiskey, and threw it back in one gu

rply. "I'm faki

grin spread across her face. She slapped t

ining the gold necklaces. Willow promised to fence them through a di

he legal loopholes required to quietly freeze Dawson's second

ft the claustrophobic VIP booth a

h the low hum of jazz and the

main bar, Charlene stop

white gown. Deandra Ball. Angelita's younger sister. She possessed a face strikingly similar to h

ant red dress. A flash of pure, unadulterated jealousy crosse

eels across the floor

ice dripping with fake sympathy. "I heard

churned. But she

Charlene's eyes. She widened them, filling the

a's wrist. Her grip was tight, her na

ce echoing over the jazz music. "You'r

pped. Heads turned. Wealthy patrons low

ied to yank her hand back, bu

confused-" Deandra stammer

e raised her voice even louder, making sure

ding utterly broken. "I'm trapped in a house with a m

ees slightly, pulling

have mercy on me. Tell him to sign the divorce papers

eandra with blatant disgust. In their eyes, Deandra wasn't a tra

liation. Her perfect, angelic image wa

ssed under her breath. She violently shoved

ut of the lounge, her white dress flying

ing a sip of her martini

le dust off her red dress. The tears vanished fro