Page 3 of Crucible

Wrestling my arm free once we’re on board my private plane, I drunkenly stumble over to the closest reclining seat and give my uncle a mocking smile once I slump into the cushy leather.

“Whisking me away and out of sight,” I taunt. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think, Uncle Mars?”

Cassie keeps close, but my security team takes their seats far away from me. The only face among them I recognize is Ty Westbrook, and what a handsome face it is. He’s the only one of my bodyguards who hasn’t been fired by my uncle for selling my secrets or has quit because I’m kind of a bitch.

“Aurelia, goddammit,” my uncle swears at me. “You leaked a sex tape of yourself and then called your co-host a tone-deaf sheep!”

“One, I didn’t leak it. I washacked,” I correct. The lie works for other celebrities. Why not me? “Two, my face wasn’t in it,so it could have been anyone. And spare me the lecture, Uncle Mars. Tania needed to learn why taking things that don’t belong to her and crossing me is bad for her health. Need I remind you she stole my song? And even you have to admit that Tania sounds like a sheep when she sings. Baaaa-baaaaa! I wish I could be like Aurelia. Baaaa-baaaaa. See? Spot on.”

I hear a cough behind me and know it’s Tyler smothering his laugh, but I don’t dare look across the aisle with my uncle watching. One whiff that my relationship with the former soldier transcends professional indifference and I’ll never see him again.

My uncle considers the idea of me having a meaningful relationship with anyone beyond my accountant, voice coach, and the stage completely frivolous and forbidden.

“It was on live TV, Aurelia. Your outburst was seen by millions.”

My smile feels more like a sneer when I cock my head. “Would it have been better if I’d treated her horribly where no one could see, Uncle Marston?”

The question hits close to home and ruffles his old feathers like I knew it would. Knowing my uncle won’t answer for his sins, I snap my fingers, and after a flurry of confusion, a champagne flute is hesitantly placed in my hand by the flight attendant.

“What’s your name?” I ask after she makes the mistake of making eye contact with me. I’ve perfected the art of appearing poised even when I’m lit up like a Christmas tree. My elbow is braced on my crossed legs as I sip my champagne.

“Susan.”

“Susan. What an awful name for a child. What were your parents thinking?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Well, you should ask them.”

“They’re dead.”

“Susan, do you think I should have to beg the help for a refreshment?”

“Oh.” The flight attendant’s cheeks redden. “No. I’m so sorry. It’s just that your uncle—”

Already knowing what she’s going to say—that my uncle called ahead and ordered them not to serve me any alcohol—I feel my nostrils flare. “You don’t work for him,” I tell my uncle’s spy. She’s one of many, but I hate her no less. “You work for me, Susan.”

“My apologies, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? You’re older than me.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Aurelia, leave the stewardess alone and let her get back to work,” my uncle orders.

My smile is sharp when I regard my uncle. “I believe they’re called flight attendants now, Uncle.”

Susan apologizes before excusing herself.

The back of my neck prickles, and I feel like I’m under a microscope, but that’s nothing new. The only difference is the waythisparticular gaze makes me squirm. Tyler’s attention feels like he’s trying to pierce my thorny exterior and see into my soul. He wants to believe that I’m really good deep down, and that’s why I know we’ll never work.

“This bratty behavior cannot go on,” Uncle Marston lectures. “My God, I’d hoped your acting out was a phase, but you seem to get more intolerable by the day.”

“I appreciate that, Uncle Mars. Really, I do. I was taught by the best.”

His almond-shaped eyes narrow immediately. They remind me of my father’s, and though I loved him, I’m glad I took after my mother in that regard. My eyes are upturned like hers, so it’s one less thing that connects me to the man before me.

“What did you say?”

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