attempted to, as her horrid interpretation of sleeves swallowed her up—and flared her nostrils. “Nicolette and I were working at the apartment.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to determine if there was something in her voice, her stare that would indicate absolute guilt. I like to think my super-vampire sense would make me particularly good at reading a breather’s emotions, but no.
“Stop staring at me.”
“Ms. LaShay!” I felt an arm snake through mine before I heard Jason Forbes’s deep voice—but not before I saw Emerson’s face tighten, her eyes sharp as naked swords.
“I was hoping to catch you. I see you and Ms. Hawk are getting acquainted.”
I put on my most dazzling smile and nodded. “We certainly are.”
Jason pitched his head toward mine, his lips just brushing my ear. “I’d like to talk to you about one of your designs.”
I kept grinning, enjoying Emerson’s pallor.
It was at the precise moment that Jason put his hand on my arm that I saw Emerson lurch forward, in the most melodramatic fall I’d seen in lifetimes. I watched the deep, red zinfandel swish from her bowl glass, up, up, up and out, and then I felt the liquid seeping through my dress, dripping over my collarbone, droplets slipping down through my décolletage.
And then all hell broke loose.
I forgot that Jason Forbes was within wetting distance and screamed, “You bitch! You did that on purpose!”
A slick grin rushed across Emerson’s lips before her expression snapped into one of mock apology and horror. “Oh, dear, oh! I’m such a klutz. Please, do send me the dry-cleaning bill.”
People had started to circle now, looking sadly at my spoiled dress—few things moved fashionistas like wounded couture.
“If you were worth anything as a designer, you’d know that you don’t dry-clean hand-dyed, vintage Versace.”
Emerson cocked her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Are you sure that’s Versace? I think you may have been taken, sweetie. I did the full Versace catalog when I was there,” she said, her voice rising on Versace. “And I really don’t recall seeing that particular number in their annals.”
I’m usually known for keeping my cool. But tonight, my cool was wrapped around Emerson Hawk’s scraggly neck. Before I realized it we were in a full-on girl-fight, complete with hair pulling and feline scowls. Had my entire life and fashion career not been on the line, I would have gone full-on Lestat on her ass and left picking subpar designer out of my teeth.
“I swear to God I’m going to murder you!” I growled.
“With what?” Emerson wrinkled her nose. “Your polyester excuse for couture or one of your gag-worthy designs?”
“Ladies, ladies, ladies!”
I felt strong arms snaking around my waist and suddenly I was off the ground, being pulled backward. I craned my neck to see who my savior/new attackee was and harrumphed when I realized it was Pike. I had expected Jason, but found him standing a few feet away, grinning like someone was about to inflate the ring and fill it with mud. I was so flabbergasted and annoyed that I wasn’t even able to take the time to appreciate being wrapped in Pike’s arms, or how devastatingly handsome he looked in a slim-fitting deconstructed tuxedo, his hair half slicked, half I-just-rolled-out-of-bed sexy.
He yanked me a good ten feet from Emerson and her weapon of couture destruction but I could still see the sick smile on her face and my rage boiled again.
“Put me down!” I said between clenched teeth. “I’m going to rip her throat out. I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend.”
Pike dropped me with a thump. “My girlfriend?”
I waved at the air. “Ex, whatever. She ruined my dress. On purpose. She’s a snarky little snake in the grass.”
“Shh, shh, shh. Nina, relax. She is a—what did you call her? Snaky snark? She’s that, which is why you’re not going to let her get you tossed out of this competition.”
The anger in my gut was slowly, barely, starting to pull back. I glanced at Pike’s earnest expression and then back over my shoulder at Emerson, who was being led toward the back patio, leaning on some poor waiter as if she’d been actually wounded.
Three more minutes and she would have been.
The tone in the restaurant went from high piano notes and polite laughter to throaty “did you see those two go at it?” whispers and averted eyes.
Pike handed me a glass of soda water and a thick cloth napkin. I dabbed at my dress delicately, each wine-soaked dab stabbing