It took a moment to think through the heavy fog, to realize what I’d just done. The past few moments replayed vividly in my mind, so new they hadn’t even formed a memory yet.
The way I’d lurched away from security and leaped at Ander like some wild animal being challenged… He might be clutching me now, but it was me who’d grabbed him first. It was so clear in my mind, the way his eyes widened in shock when I’d wrenched him closer with my hands in his coat. How I teetered on the painfully small heels to tiptoe up and glare into his eyes.
Hate. My veins burned with it. My mouth flowed with it. He’d hurt me so profoundly in so many ways, and he’d barely had to do anything at all.
Do I know you?
All our stolen moments had been reduced to those four words as if every conversation we ever had was so unimportant it didn’t even bear remembering. And to replace me with an upgraded version, a shiny arm trophy in which I was forced to gaze at my subpar reflection…
He would pay.
The words I’d thrown like daggers fell off my tongue again. This time softer, this time in English. A repeat of what had already been done.
May the taste of humiliation stain your tongue and the reflection you forced me to look upon be mirrored back to you times ten. May what you are inside ooze from your pores to taint your pristine looks with brutal truth. Anyone here forward will know what you are made of just by once glance of their eye. Let the flames of my ire mark you eternally so that you will never be able to forget your rejection of an honest heart, and may you burn forever in regret.
My voice fell silent, lips rolling inward. The weight of my words settled over us both like a thick winter’s blanket.
I’d cursed him.
The very air seemed to crackle with my wicked intentions.
The hold on my arms fell away, and I watched in fascination as his round Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
He swallowed repeatedly, just staring at me with a wary expression.
“She’s a witch,” his green-eyed date whispered into the room. Though her voice was breathless, I knew everyone heard. How could they not? It was silent as a tomb in there.
“She’s a witch!” the girl shrieked again, this time much louder. She burst forward, grabbing my wrist and squeezing. “Let go of him! Let go!”
I wrenched back, my body feeling off-balance and suddenly drained of every emotion.
I stumbled, security grabbing my arms.
The girl stood at his side, wailing and simpering like it was her who’d just been cursed. But Ander. Ander stood stock-still, almost as if he were transfixed. He paid no mind to the woman flailing at his side. Instead, he stared at me, the blue of his eyes the only color on his face.
The guards started to drag me away.
“Take it back,” Ander said, making the men stop. As if suddenly set free from whatever chains bound him, he snapped back to life and strode across the short distance, stopping in front of me but just out of reach. “Whatever you just did, take it back.”
A sharp pain pierced my heart, but I lifted my chin. “And will you still pretend to not know me?”
His dark-blond brows drew together for a brief moment. “No.”
My heart soared.
“I’m not pretending.”
It took a moment for realization to slap me in the face. He still wouldn’t admit it. He wanted me to take back what I’d said, but he wasn’t willing to do the same.
I felt my eyes flash. “La maldición vive.” The curse lives.
Everyone in the room gasped and puzzled, wondering what it was I’d just said. I didn’t yell out the translation as the guards dragged me away.
I didn’t need to.
Translation wasn’t necessary to feel my ominous intent.
1
Ander
* * *
“You’re a disgrace!” There was something new underlying his tone that made the back of my neck prickle with notice.
My whole life, I’d been an embarrassment. A disappointment. An incompetent heir and an undisciplined brat. I pissed off the old man on a regular basis, but he always got over it. Mostly.
Looking at him now, I would be inclined to believe this would be no different. Except I wasn’t going by looks, not when he nearly choked me with the disapproval he emitted like cheap perfume.
Ever since that night, I had a hard time shaking things. As if her vex had left me forever searching for the things people didn’t say, the underlying intent behind their words.
Glancing down at the paper he slapped onto his mahogany desk, I wondered if perhaps this time he’d be less forgiving. After all, this time he couldn’t quietly cover up whatever indiscretion I’d committed because it happened in front of the whole of the Upper East Side.
And even if a few who’s-who missed it, they were all caught up now. The article printed right there in black and white saw to that.
Shockwaves are rippling through the New York City Elite from a fresh scandal that, frankly, this author would be hard pressed to believe if she hadn’t witnessed it firsthand. Even among the most elite here in Manhattan, drama often occurs. While we definitely try to rise above the gossip and murmurs clearly beneath us, it is often in bad taste to completely ignore the inner workings of our own kingdom. After all, if we don’t stay informed of our own socialites’ transgressions, then however will we avoid such dramatics in the future? It is in this author’s opinion that the most tongue-wagging events often occur when outside influences are brought in. I mean, don’t we all know by now that oil and water don’t mix?
Alas, I will allow that there has been an exception with Ivory White. Her mingling with a man of lower class did send the Upper East Side into a tailspin when the plaid-wearing artist started to appear on her arm. But who would dare challenge the woman who basically reigns over us all?
That being said, the parties involved in today’s newest transgression were most definitely not Ivory White, and while Ander Todd is undoubtedly a Manhattan prince, he is not on her level.
Most of us were in attendance, but do allow me to recap what happened and offer some much-needed clarity on this situation. It started with a mild disturbance at the entrance of the annual fundraiser for the Fundamental Arts & Music Institute of NYC. (A very worthy cause. Without art, would there even be life?)
A woman was declined entrance by our esteemed doorman when she failed to produce a coveted invitation and also failed to have her name on the list. My sources have told me that she is in fact a bartender at Cauldron, which sits on the edge of Manhattan. She goes by the name of Winnie, and yes, I do have her last name, but it really isn’t important as it’s not a name that bears any recognition whatsoever. It is in this humble writer’s opinion that perhaps this barmaid thought that working in our district gave her access to everything we enjoy.
When turned away, the woman, who was dressed in an unfortunate gown that was at best a secondhand knockoff, which quite literally littered the pristine carpets at the grand hotel with cheap confetti, she reacted in a most unbecoming way. Rage-filled and unpredictable, the woman shoved into the room where she marched (in cheap heels!) toward the bar, halting in front of our very own Ander Todd.
Now we all know the Todd heir is quite the charmer, notorious for his rakish smile and devilish behavior. This author has penned more than one article about his affairs, and no doubt, this will not be the last. An insufferable flirt, that Ander.