A Toast to Revenge
1308 Words
The grand chandelier sparkled above the room like a constellation just for Harper Blake.
She adjusted the strap of her emerald green dress, telling herself this was for business, not for Julian Cross—or the lingering butterflies that had somehow taken permanent residence in her stomach.
Julian appeared at her side with a glass of champagne, perfectly tailored tuxedo, hair in place, and that infuriating smirk that had haunted her dreams for three weeks.
“Ready?” he asked, voice low, meant only for her.
Harper squared her shoulders. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He handed her the glass. “Remember, we’re partners tonight. Fake smiles, fake closeness, real revenge.”
Her pulse jumped. “And here I thought this was just a corporate gala.”
“It is,” Julian said, eyebrow quirked. “But every corporate gala is also a stage. And tonight, we perform.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile. “And my role?”
“Star,” he said, smirk widening. “And don’t worry. I’ll be your co-star, bodyguard, and occasional annoyance.”
The party was in full swing when they entered. The room smelled of expensive perfume, cologne, and ambition. Waiters floated around with silver trays of champagne, and clusters of executives whispered with glassy eyes, speculating about deals they would probably never close.
Harper’s first instinct was to shrink into the corner. Then she remembered why she was here: revenge.
Julian’s hand brushed hers as they moved through the crowd. It was casual, effortless, and deliberately close. Harper’s stomach protested, but she ignored it.
“Smile,” he whispered. “Look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am enjoying myself,” she muttered. “Watching Ethan squirm is… surprisingly satisfying.”
Julian’s eyes sparkled. “Good. That’s my girl.”
It didn’t take long for the first whispers to reach her ears.
“Is that… Harper Blake?” someone murmured.
“With Julian Cross?”
Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. It was working. The strategy, the plan—it was working.
Julian leaned close again. “Watch this,” he murmured.
Before Harper could ask what he meant, a familiar voice rang out.
“Harper?”
Her heart froze. Ethan. Standing across the room, looking exactly like the entitled jerk he had always been. And yes, he was glaring.
She felt Julian’s arm tighten around hers, a subtle anchor in the chaos.
Ethan’s eyes flicked to Julian, then back to her. Confusion, disbelief, and maybe—just maybe—a twinge of jealousy.
“Enjoying the party?” Julian said smoothly, stepping slightly closer to Harper, as if to claim territory.
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “You… work for him now?”
“And I’m having a wonderful time,” Harper said, raising her glass with perfect composure. “You’re welcome to join us.”
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it. Harper bit back a laugh. He looked like someone had just shoved him into a reality he wasn’t ready for.
Julian smirked at her. “See? Instant effect.”
“Don’t call it that,” she whispered.
“Effect?” he asked innocently. “Or chemistry?”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Definitely effect.”
For the next hour, Harper and Julian navigated the room like predators on display. They laughed together at the right moments, exchanged whispers no one else could hear, and leaned close enough to make a casual observer think—well, exactly what they wanted.
The best part? Ethan couldn’t stop staring.
“You’re good at this,” Harper murmured as they paused near the hors d’oeuvres table.
Julian raised a brow. “At pretending?”
“Yes,” she said. “Or whatever this is. You make it look… natural.”
He leaned in, voice low, almost brushing her ear. “It is natural. Just a different kind of… collaboration.”
Harper’s pulse kicked up again. She reminded herself: he was her co-star, her ally, her enemy—take your pick. Nothing more.
A group of clients approached, and Julian immediately took control, introducing Harper with subtle pride.
“And this,” he said, sweeping his arm toward her, “is Harper Blake. She just started with us, and already she’s showing the brilliance I knew she had.”
Harper felt heat rush to her cheeks. The compliment was genuine enough to sting.
One of the clients, a middle-aged man with a pinstripe suit, leaned in. “Impressive. And you two… look well-matched.”
Julian’s smirk deepened. “We are. Professionally, of course.”
“Of course,” Harper echoed, though she felt a tiny thrill at the way Julian’s hand lingered near hers.
Across the room, Ethan’s presence was like a shadow, and Harper could see him muttering to a colleague, eyes flicking to them.
“Do you see him?” she whispered to Julian.
“I do,” he said calmly. “Enjoying the show?”
“Very much,” she said, gritting her teeth.
Julian leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. “Relax. Tonight is about sending a message. Nothing else matters.”
“Message received,” she said, fighting a smirk.
The final straw came when Ethan tried to approach. Harper could see it before he even reached them. Julian shifted slightly, placing a hand lightly on her lower back, creating an invisible barrier.
“Cole,” Julian said, voice smooth and dangerously polite. “We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “Not that you’d be invited, anyway.”
Ethan’s face went red. “You’re playing a game—”
Julian interrupted, voice crisp and controlled. “I don’t play games I can’t win. You should know that by now.”
Harper nearly laughed aloud. Julian’s control of the situation was flawless, infuriating, and undeniably magnetic.
Ethan stormed off, muttering something she didn’t catch, and Harper felt an odd mixture of triumph and relief.
After the party, Julian and Harper stepped outside to the valet. The cold night air hit her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the tension-filled warmth inside.
“You were incredible tonight,” Julian said, leaning against his car. “The way you handled him… perfect.”
Harper shrugged. “It’s not like it was hard. He’s predictable.”
“Predictable, yes. But now he knows you’re untouchable.”
“Untouchable?” she repeated, letting the word taste in her mouth.
“Untouchable,” Julian confirmed. His eyes held hers a second too long. “And very much my… partner in crime.”
Harper blinked. “Partner in… crime?”
“You know,” he said smoothly. “Fake dating, revenge, public humiliation… all of it.”
Her lips twitched. “You make it sound glamorous.”
“It is,” he said softly. “When done right.”
The moment stretched. Their faces were close, almost touching, breaths mingling. Harper reminded herself she couldn’t—wouldn’t—fall for him. Not now. Not ever.
Yet when Julian leaned in slightly, whispering, “Careful… I bite,” she felt something stir she hadn’t expected.
Damn him.
By the time Harper got home, her phone buzzed incessantly.
Zoe’s texts were nonstop: I knew it. You look amazing. He’s totally yours. Did you see Ethan? Livid. LOL.
Harper typed back: This is just the beginning.
And for the first time since Ethan’s betrayal, she felt a thrill that wasn’t fear, wasn’t anxiety, and wasn’t heartbreak.
It was power.
It was control.
It was sweet, delicious revenge.
And Harper Blake knew one thing: Julian Cross wasn’t just a co-star. He was the perfect partner for the show she was about to headline.
Because in the game of love—and revenge—Harper was just getting started.
- Writer
