Bye Loser! Love, Daddy's Heiress - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

I swept into the ballroom like a storm in silk, the air crackling with old money and fresh gossip. Every head turned—drawn to the sway of my hips, the way my black dress clung like a second skin, the way my diamonds winked under the chandeliers like they knew all the secrets in the room.
Then I felt it—that familiar prickle down my spine.
Lothario.
Frozen by the bar, white-knuckling his whiskey like it was the last life raft on the Titanic. His face was a mask, but his eyes? Oh, they were screaming. Confusion. Shock. Betrayal.
Good.
I turned away just in time to hear the hyena pack approaching.
"Oh my God," Alessia drawled, flanked by her Stepford wives. "Did you get lost on your way to the bus stop, darling?" Her posse tittered on cue.
I exhaled through my nose. Still so painfully basic.
"Or," she continued, tilting her head like a confused poodle, "are you here to make more pathetic scenes? Face it—Lothario's moved on to actual grown-ups." One of her minions snorted. "Girl, give it up. You're embarrassing yourself."
Alessia gave me that slow, bitchy once-over. "Let me guess—you sweet-talked some waiter to sneak you in? Desperate for a new sugar daddy now that—"
I let her hang there for a beat.
"Oh, Alessia," I purred. "Still putting your foot in your mouth before your brain catches up, I see."
Her smirk flickered. Then—
"Cressida Lancaster."
The temperature in our little circle dropped twenty degrees.
Alessia's manicured claws twitched as I turned toward the voice.
Taurus Sullivan.
The man moved through the crowd like a shark through shallow water—all predatory grace and quiet danger. When he took my hand, his grip was firm. "An honor to meet the woman who's been turning this city upside down."
"Likewise, Mr. Sullivan."
Behind me, a choked gasp.
"You're... Cressida?" Alessia's voice cracked like cheap champagne.
Taurus barely glanced at her. "Alessia." The dismissal in that single word could've leveled cities. To me, softer: "I should've known the architect of tonight would be this dazzling."
Lothario's glass creaked in his grip.
Alessia looked like she'd swallowed a wasp. "No. No freaking way—"
The emcee's voice boomed: "Ladies and gentlemen, our esteemed host—Miss Cressida Lancaster!"
The silence was so thick you could've choked on it.
I let my gaze drift to Lothario just in time to watch the realization gut him—the blood draining from his face, his fingers spasming around his glass.
"Pearl?" His whisper was raw.
I gave him nothing. Just a smile sharp enough to draw blood as I glided past him.
The crowd peeled back like the Red Sea as I took the stage. The applause was deafening, but all I heard was the sound of Lothario's world crumbling.
"Good evening." I let the mic catch every honeyed syllable. "I'm Cressida Lancaster."
The name landed like a grenade.
Alessia looked ready to vomit. Lothario? Oh, he was a masterpiece of barely contained rage—jaw clenched, nostrils flared, that muscle ticking in his cheek like a time bomb.
I leaned into the mic. "Let the games begin."
The rest of the night was a blur of champagne flutes and fawning sycophants. Taurus became my shadow—not that I needed one, but God, the way it made Lothario seethe was worth the company.
"You're lethal," Taurus murmured against my ear at one point, his gaze cutting to where Lothario was murdering his third whiskey.
I sipped my drink. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
"Truth," he corrected. "And it's driving someone absolutely insane."
I didn't need to look. I could feel Lothario's glare like a physical brand—hot, possessive, furious.
Somewhere between the canapés and the covert power plays, Alessia vanished.
Coward.
Taurus's fingers brushed my elbow. "Tell me, Cressida—do you always destroy men this beautifully?"
I smiled over the rim of my glass. "Only the ones who deserve it."
Across the room, Lothario's glass shattered in his hand.
Perfect.