Chapter 4 – Let The Games Begin
943 Words
“I can’t believe it, Ally.”
Alessandra “Ally” Moreau, my beautiful, medium-height, blonde, curly-haired best friend, sat across from me in our usual spot at Moonlight Bar, sipping a cocktail like life wasn’t burning down around me.
Moonlight Bar always got my spirits up—exclusive, glamorous, filled with laughter and music. But not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to drown myself in the strongest drink they had and disappear into the neon lights.
“I was so upset when my father sprung this on me last week,” I ranted, slamming my glass down a little too hard. "Didn’t even give me a chance to process it. It was just, ‘Surprise! You’re getting married!’”
Ally smirked, the devil in her green eyes twinkling. “Being rich is tough, huh?”
I groaned. “Ally…”
She grinned, leaning in. “Celeste, I love you, but you’re sitting in a five-star bar, drinking hundred-dollar cocktails, complaining about a forced engagement to a billionaire. Do you even hear yourself?”
I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t funny.”
She took another sip, looking far too amused. “Oh, but it is.”
Ally had been my ride-or-die since high school—my emotional support system, my comic relief, my sister in everything but blood. We built an empire together, a fashion business from the ground up, without my father’s money. Now, we had three boutiques—one in New York, one in Paris, and one in San Francisco. Josh Green, our third bestie and business partner, was currently in Paris setting up shop. But he'd be back soon, thank God.
I slumped forward, pressing my forehead against my arms. “Don’t you want to take my place?”
Ally burst out laughing. “And have your father force me to marry the biggest asshole in New York? No, thanks. My parents love me. I’d take them over a trillion dollars any day.”
I groaned dramatically. “Ally, they expect me to produce an heir. Like I’m some breeding cow.”
She gasped. “Well, you got the cow part right.”
“Hey!” I swatted at her, but she just giggled, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Then her expression shifted.
“Oh. My. God.”
She pulled a face like she’d just smelled something rotten.
“What?” I lifted my head groggily, following her line of sight.
And then I saw him.
Leonidas-f*****g-Astor.
Striding into the club like he owned the place—which, knowing him, he probably did. Tailored suit, his normally wavy brown hair brushed back, arrogant swagger, the devil himself reincarnated in a six-foot-three frame.
And, of course, his smug, obnoxious, snot-nosed right-hand man and best friend, Dante Russo, was right beside him. Their bodyguard followed behind like they were some kind of mafia bosses. Well, with the way they were dressed, they may as well have been.
I groaned. Of all the bars in this godforsaken city, why did he have to walk into this one?
“Oh, hell no.” Ally reached for her drink like she needed the strength of the alcohol to tolerate his existence. “Of course, it had to be him. His friend is still cute, though.”
I gave her the ‘are you kidding me look’.
“What? He is! Those broad shoulders, his stylish pompadour highlighting his thick, dark hair…"
Not wanting to hear another word, I cut in. “Let’s go,” I whined.
“f**k no.” Ally crossed her arms. “We are not letting Leo get to us. If anyone should leave, it should be him.”
I heard him before I saw him react.
“Oh, f**k. That b***h is here. Let’s go.”
His voice—**that deep, infuriating, cocky voice—**grated against my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
I stiffened, already reaching for my clutch, ready to bolt, but then Dante leaned in, whispered something to him, and Leo stopped.
My stomach twisted as they stayed.
Great. Just great.
From my peripheral vision, I caught Leo glancing at me. Once. Then again. And again. Three times in less than a minute.
Ally noticed.
Ally, of course, noticed.
The next time Leo’s gaze flicked toward us, she stuck out her tongue in the most immature, grotesque way imaginable.
Even Dante looked disgusted.
I choked on my drink, half laughing, half horrified. “Ally, that is so undignified.”
She just smirked, sipping her drink like a queen on her throne. “I’m not the one engaged to him. I can make the fucker’s life hell and he can’t do s**t about it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be so sure.”
Ally’s eyes suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree on steroids.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, voice too eager.
I knew that tone.
I feared that tone.
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you thinking?”
She leaned in, buzzing with excitement. “Your engagement was publicly announced, right?”
I groaned. “Yes, obviously. It was in the papers, all over social media—why?”
A wicked, dangerous, slightly terrifying grin spread across her face.
“Baby girl, I have the most BRILLIANT idea.”
I stared at her, alarm bells blaring in my head. “Ally.”
She grinned wider. “Let down that gorgeous black hair of yours. Take off your sweater.”
I froze. “What? Why?”
She clinked her glass against mine, her eyes glinting with pure, unfiltered chaos.
“Because, sweetheart,” she purred, “we’re about to paint this town red.”
- Writer
