Aria Vanderbilt woke to the relentless throb of her skull, sunlight slicing through the gauzy curtains of her over water villa like a personal vendetta.
It was Christmas Eve morning or what passed for it in the Maldives, with no chimney smoke or carolers, just the distant hum of speedboats and the salty tang of the lagoon seeping through the slatted floors.
Her mouth tasted like regret and last night's rosé, her body a battlefield of excess.
The after party at the adult lounge had stretched until dawn, a blur of VIP bottle service, thumping EDM remixed with jingle bells, and Sasha and Valentina egging her on with shots of spiced rum eggnog.
"Forget that hot dad reject," Sasha had slurred, grinding against a shirtless bartender. "You're Aria Vanderbilt. you don't chase, you conquer."
