𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 | 𝟏𝟖+

15 | Nebulas

"Where do you think you're going?"

Gemma twirls her dark hair around her finger, her menacing icy hazel eyes freezing the blood flowing through my veins.

"The bathroom," I quiver, my voice sounding like a nervous chicken rather than a woman filled with confidence.

She takes a step towards me, eyeing up my dress and hair. I hope in this moment that my looks deceiver her, than she can't read through my disguise.

Her voice drops low, the tone dangerous and formidable. "Bullshit," she hisses, crossing her arms across her plump chest. "You think I don't know your little secret?"

My skin grows numb. Maybe she recognizes me from the day I intruded on daytime tea with Cato and Evelyn in the parlour. I was supposed to bring back refills. Can she see the truth about me? About my servanthood life? About my plans to seduce Cato? Thomas made it quite clear that he keeps his operation under tight surveillance, and anyone who dares cross his lines of confidentiality never get out of it easily.

"You're the whore that's fucking my fiancé, aren't you?" she spits.

"What?"

This, is anything but good.

"Cato," she corrects. "He never looks at me like that. Never, and he shut down his whole fucking speech for you. He ran off the stage, and I bet he's fighting his way through reporters and paparazzi to find you."

"I'm not having an affair with your fiancé," I clarify. "We're just colleagues—that's why I was invited."

"So is everyone else here, so don't feel like you're special," she boasted before lifting her hand with the engagement ring. "He only has one fiancé, and he chose me."

"Congratulations, by the way," I force myself to say, although the words slip out awkwardly. Each word Gemma speaks remains sharp as a knife, meant to cut into me, but I have to pretend that this is all a misunderstanding.

Which it is... until she discovers my true purpose for my attendance.

"Thank you," she sighs, taking a moment to revaluate our encounter. A wave of relief brushes over as it sinks into her mind that I'm not a threat—at the moment. "I'm sorry for attacking you like this, um, what's your name?"

Can I say Maureen? Do I use a fake name?

Gemma analyzes me, and I can tell by the way her lips twitch that she's trying to find a way to apologize to me for acting out like that.

"Let me get you a glass of champagne," Gemma quickly offers. "A truce, perhaps?"

Behind Gemma, Cato enters into the corridor, his green eyes frantically scouring every direction until they find Gemma and I. Gemma catches me staring over her shoulder and turns around, her attention locked on the famous astronaut, or as she would put it, her fiancé.

Gemma laces her arms around Cato's neck. "Good job up there," she whispers against his jaw, peppering him with seductive kisses.

Cato pecks her lips swiftly, but those forest eyes find mine, and they're shrouded with desire. He possesses the same lustful darkness as he did that night he kissed me against the tree.

He smiles as he looks down at Gemma. "Can you excuse us for a second?"

Gemma frowns. "Who is she?"

"A journalist," Cato answers. An obvious lie to both of us, but not Gemma. "I just need to make sure her details about the expedition are correct."