The Real Werewives of Vampire County - By Alexandra Ivy Page 0,108

keep from slamming the door behind them once Vera marched in, right on her heels.

“What is your problem?” Tiffany snapped, eyes flashing as she gestured back the way they had come. “I was in the middle of a very important business deal! Couldn’t you have waited until I closed him before interrupting to bitch at me?”

It was Vera’s turn to flush, though she wasn’t dissuaded. With difficulty, she drew in a few calming breaths, settling her nerves so her eyes wouldn’t glow with her increasing anger.

“You,” she enunciated carefully around growing fangs, “don’t belong here. You’re not part of this community, and I can smell the trouble following you. You should go back to wherever you came from and leave us alone.”

Tiffany sniffed indignantly. “Vera, I don’t know where you got these crazy notions about me, but I’m not here to cause trouble for anyone. All you’re accomplishing right now is embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t care what the others say. You’re up to something. I’m going to find out what.”

Tiffany met her gaze, her jaw set and fists clenching at her sides. Her nostrils flared as she tilted her head up, causing her carefully maintained coiffure to shift, blond strands slithering over her shoulders and hissing softly against the silken fabric. Her voice took on the same whispery tones—soft, dangerous, and deadly.

“You might want to watch yourself, Vera. Dig too deep and you won’t like what you find.”

Vera watched her go, the door clicking quietly shut behind her as the sound of her Prada heels clacking against the marble floors faded into the hum of the party.

CHAPTER 5

Money is your servant—do not let it be your master.

—An American Proverb

The women were not surprised to see Tiffany paused on the threshold of the patio, searching the fire pits and tables for her friends. The people outside turned to watch as she passed, their eyes flashing brilliant hues of green or gold as her scent—heavy with the reek of agitation even through the cloud of citronella—caught their interest. Once they noted where she was headed, many returned to their conversations or to picking at the hors d’oeuvres, but several continued to watch her with veiled interest as she paused behind the seat Vera had earlier vacated.

“Ladies. Sorry I took so long to join you.”

Tiffany’s tone was light, but her white-knuckled grip on the back of the latticework iron chair bespoke her irritation. Heather, who had been nervously nibbling her bottom lip, leaned forward and put her hand lightly on Tiffany’s arm.

“Are you okay? Vera didn’t find you, did she?”

“She did,” she replied, her smile cold and humorless, “but don’t worry. We came to an understanding of sorts.”

The others were clearly interested in hearing about it, but too polite to push—beyond more than overly curious, questioning expressions—and Tiffany was not budging in her silence on the topic. After a wordless conversation composed of nothing but significant looks, raised brows, and slight twitches of lips shared between Cassandra and Tiffany, they came to an understanding.

‘Don’t ask. You won’t like the answer.’

‘Come on, you know you want to tell us what happened.’

‘It’s none of your damned business.’

‘You know she’ll give us the details when you’re not around anyway. You might as well tell us your side of it now.’

‘It’s my story to tell or not. Don’t push me.’

‘Are you sure? It might not be wise to keep so much to yourself. ’

‘Drop it.’

Eventually, Cassandra broke eye contact, feigning a sudden and intense interest in her drink. Gradually, Tiffany’s grip on the back of the chair loosened, and she gestured at the partygoers mingling and chatting nearby.

“There are a lot of people here I don’t recognize. Heather, I don’t suppose you’d be a love and introduce me, would you?”

“Of course she will,” Cassandra said. “We’ll all join you. There are a few people I’d like for you to meet, too.”

Heather shot a helpless look at Cassandra, and then pushed her chair back with a harsh scrape over the patterned brick. Alexis smirked, but didn’t utter a word, setting her drink aside so she could smooth out her skirt and brush her hair back over her shoulder.

Cassandra hooked her arm through Tiffany’s and paraded her through the gathered throngs in the gardens and around the fire pits as if she were a show pony. She breezed through introductions, highlighting a few interesting tidbits and assets—both of Tiffany and of the people she was meeting—before pushing her along to the next group. Once she was introduced to a few