Scout’s POV
“Drop the pearls, you charity-case bitch.”
The words cut through the heavy, lavender-scented air of the boutique like a razor. I froze, my fingers still pressing the cool, rounded beads against the hollow of my throat. The pink silk of the gown whispered against my skin, a soft, expensive weight that suddenly felt like a target.
I turned.
Simone stood three feet away. Her midnight-blue dress clung to every curve, looking like it had been poured onto her body by a team of tailors. Her hair fell in perfect, golden waves. Her makeup was flawless. But it was the sharp, ugly twist of her lips that made my stomach drop.
"Shopping, Simone?" I forced the words past the tight lump in my throat, my teeth clicking together.
"Looking at you," she said. She let out a low, mocking laug
