After I Slept with My Ex's Best Buddy

Chapter 3 Am I Interrupting Something?

Kiera was momentarily stunned by the question before snapping out of it.

This invitation scheme had Heath Vaughn's fingerprints all over it. God only knew what twisted game he was playing, and she'd be wise not to indulge him.

"I just wanted to remind you—the Shaws are treating this engagement banquet as a grand affair. Crashing it would be impossible. But if you need an escort, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Kiera scoffed inwardly. So that was his angle. As if she'd let him win.

"Heath Vaughn!"

She spat his name like poison. "This childish act is pathetic. I want nothing to do with Ethan Shaw—and even less with you, his supposed best friend."

Without waiting for a reply, she stabbed the end-call button and tossed the number into her blocked list.

That single conversation left her drained for the rest of the afternoon. Distracted, she botched her article submission—earning a public dressing-down from her editor-in-chief in front of the entire office.

"Kiera," the chief relented a little after the tirade. "You've been with us a year now. If you can't start delivering results soon, even I won't be able to shield you."

Head bowed, Kiera absorbed the scolding with practiced humility.

"That Shaw heir still has connections with you, doesn't he? Rumor has it he pulled strings to get you this job..." The chief's eyes flicked to the invitation on Kiera's desk. "The Shaw-Morgan joint banquet next week—cover it. Get some juicy details."

Kiera's head snapped up. "But my current workload—"

"This magazine carries no dead weight." The chief's voice turned to steel. "Go, or start packing your things."

Alone at her workstation, Kiera was torn between impossible options—until reality dealt the crushing blow.

The rent was breathing down her neck this month, and she couldn't afford to lose this job—not when the alternative was crawling back to the Summer family like a kicked puppy, enduring that woman's scornful glances.

So, like it or not, Kiera had to attend this wedding banquet...

*

As neon lights bathed the city, Brocade Palace in the downtown district was awash in extravagant revelry. Heath Vaughn idly flicked a Zippo lighter open and shut, his dark eyes skimming over the drunken crowd. A tumbler of whiskey suddenly appeared before him.

"What's with the lonely act?"

Recognizing Ethan's voice, Heath took a slow sip before tossing the lighter onto the glass table with a sharp *clink*. "Bored. Heard you've been avoiding home lately?"

Ethan downed his drink in one go, exhaling sharply. "I've been thinking. This engagement... maybe I don't want it."

Heath's eyebrow arched. "Explain."

"Vera's perfect—my parents adore her, our families are a perfect social match—but I can't stop thinking about Kiera..."

Loosening his tie slowly, Heath fixed him with a piercing stare. "Whether it's family pressure or you just don't like Miss Morgan, the moment you broke up, you and Kiera became people from different worlds."

Ethan let out a bitter laugh. "You're right. I lost that right. Still... I just hope she's okay."

"You walked away," Heath snapped, standing abruptly with visible irritation. "What gives you the right to care now?"

Ethan blinked up in stunned silence—since when did Heath care so much?

Shrugging on his jacket with barely contained anger, Heath bit out, "Enjoy yourselves. The bill's on me." The door slammed behind him, leaving the private room in confused silence.

"What's Heath up to now? We barely get the g**g together and he bails again. Forget him, Ethan—let's rack up a game of pool..."

Ethan stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the empty seat where Heath had been sitting. A dainty charm bracelet lay forgotten there.

Something about it triggered a flash of recognition. Brow furrowing, he crossed the room and picked it up...

"Ethan?"

His fingers tightened around the trinket as the surrounding chatter faded into meaningless noise.

*

Heath stormed out of Brocade Palace, his Lamborghini eating up the asphalt until he screeched to a halt outside an apartment complex.

When Kiera finally appeared under the glow of streetlamps, his eyes lit up—only to darken instantly at the sight of some grinning guy walking beside her, their laughter slicing through the night.

*'If not you, then someone else...'*

Her words from that day wrapped around his heart like razor wire. Stubbing out his cigarette, he flashed a humorless smirk. "Bravo, Kiera. Really f*****g bravo."

The headlights pinned her like a spotlight. Kiera threw up a hand against the glare, then froze—her veins flooding with liquid nitrogen as a towering silhouette emerged from the blinding light.