His hands were too dirty to risk making an enemy of the eldest Churchill grandson.
His cousin had never liked him, and as a ridiculously young professor at a top university, Norris had an intimidating intellect.
Lyle was terrified of highly educated men like him; they were always ruthlessly calculated.
"Alright, alright, Norris, don't get mad. I'll leave her alone. I'm going."
Lyle scurried away with his tail tucked between his legs.
Claire didn't even spare him a passing glance, which only irritated him further.
Still, the harder the conquest, the sweeter the victory.
He had plenty of time!
Watching her brother get chased off by Norris from across the room left Irma fuming. Clutching a champagne flute, she began drifting purposefully toward Dane.
Just as she opened her mouth to greet him, someone slammed hard into her side.
An entire glass of red wine splashed violently down the front of her dress.
Irma let out a piercing shriek.
"Oh, my bad! Irma, are you okay?" It was Bishop's youngest son, Yolande's little brother, Seb.
"Seb? What are you doing?" Irma had been fully prepared to unleash hell, but faced with Seb's innocent, baby-faced features, the curses died in her throat.
Seb was only a sophomore in high school, young and disarmingly cute.
Even though Padgett and the main family despised his mother, Tiffany, they were highly protective of the two children she had produced.
Seb was an even more notorious prankster than Owen, but because of his age, the family usually let him get away with murder.
"Yeah, it's just me. Too bad it wasn't Dane, right?"
He had watched her predatory stalking with crystal clarity.
Irma's face froze. "Seb, what kind of nonsense are you babbling about?"
"We both know it's not nonsense, Irma," Seb whispered, leaning in close with a conspiratorial smirk.
"Oh, right. Your dress is ruined. You should probably go dry off."
"Do you want me to pay for it? How much did this cost?"
As Pike's favorite grandson, Seb had an essentially bottomless allowance.
Irma's expression twisted further. It wasnt just that the dress was Stained she had rented it for
e hundred bucks a dait
And she couldn't exactly demand a teenager pay her back without looking deeply pathetic.
If she had spilled wine on herself bumping into Dane, it would have
been a thrilling excuse to a net
close.
But with Seb, it was just a total financial disaster.
Red wine was notoriously difficult to lift. The dress was practically totaled.
Dammit!
She was going to owe the rental boutique a fortune!
In the past, her Aunt Ophelia had
aurated and gifted her a
gown for the Churchil
gala's, sparing her any expense.
But after completely alienating Ophelia recently, that luxury had evaporated. She had sent a few probing texts to test the waters, but Ophelia had ghosted her. She had been forced to rent something on her own dime.
"It's fine," Irma forced a strained, agonizing smile. "It's just a dress. It wasn't that expensive."
If Seb hadn't noticed her soul visibly leaving her body, he might have actually believed her.
"Wow, you're so generous, Irma. Now I just feel awful," Seb said, flashing his adorable canine teeth.
Irma screamed internally. If you feel awful, then write me a damn check!
"Tell you what, let me give you this cake as an apology. It's delicious, I promise."
Seb enthusiastically shoved a small cake into her hands.
Irma accepted it through gritted teeth, but made no move to eat it.
Seb immediately adopted a wounded, puppy-dog expression. "Are you refusing to forgive me?"
"Not at all!" Irma squeezed the words out.
"Then why won't you eat my apology cake?" Seb beamed at her, stubbornly waiting.
"I'm eating it!" She scooped up a spoonful, channeling all her rage into the bite. What the hell!