Page 4 of Deadly Rival

There’s no point arguing. Just like the marketing degree he persuaded me to enroll in and the salon he insisted I open, he’ll always win.

I let myself finish my beer and relish the silence for a moment longer before I slip my shoes on and head out into the noise and bustle of the clinic. As soon as I appear, staff surround me.

“Ophelia. Thank God, I thought you’d never come out. The supplier only delivered one batch of Juvéderm, and we’re almost out. Can you—”

“Ophelia, I’m so sorry. We’ve double-booked Rachel tomorrow with two Vampire facials at once. I don’t know how it happened. The computer glitched. Can you—”

“Ophelia, a customer called. She went to the emergency room last night. Some sort of reaction to her anti-wrinkle. She’s threatening legal action. Can you—”

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to be here.

God, I sound like the worst spoiled little rich girl on the planet. Poor me. Daddy bought me a business, and it’s too hard. But those thoughts don’t help one bit. My chest tightens, the dreaded constriction hitting me all at once. My heart is too big. It’s beating too hard. It’s going—

“Excuse me.”

I push past my staff, through the double doors, and out onto the street. No one follows me, thank God, and I lean against the door frame, trying to breathe. I just need—

“Ophelia! Before I head in, can I talk to you? It’s my friend’s bachelorette this weekend, and I need Saturday off. Sorry, I forgot to put it on the system, but it’ll be okay, right? I can’tlet her down.”

Can no one in this place give me a single second of peace? I whip my head round and meet Phoebe’s gaze. She’s arriving for her afternoon shift and—I check my watch—is ten minutes late.

And she’s hitting me up with this now? Saturday is my busiest day. I can’t just…

Something else catches my eye. Oh no. She hasn’t.

“What the hell is that?” I point at her nose, where a shiny stud glimmers. Dad hates piercings on women almost as much as he hates tattoos. When we set this place up, he was very clear on the dress code.

I can’t deal with this right now. I just can’t.

Phoebe covers it with her hand, then gives a nervous laugh. “Crap. I forgot we’re not meant to have them. I just got it done, so I can’t change it for a clear stud for a few weeks. It’ll be okay, right? No big deal?”

“No, it’s not fucking okay!” I hardly recognize the shrill shriek coming out of my mouth. “Take it out right now.”

Phoebe’s lips thin. “No. It cost me sixty bucks, and I’ve wanted it done forever. I can’t take it out.”

And if Dad stops by again and sees it? I’m dead meat. I straighten my spine and channel my inner Calder, bringing my voice down from shrill to icy. “That’s not my problem, Phoebe. Take it out, or you’re fired.”

Two

Sebastian

She hasn’t changed onegoddamn bit. Still the same stuck-up princess who made my sister’s life hell. As I’m operating without Brotherhood support, I haven’t managed to install cameras in Ophelia’s salon, much less the Calder mansion. But I did set one up outside to track her comings and goings.

There’s no sound, but the scene doesn’t need subtitles to give it clarity. Ophelia points an imperious finger at her staff member, who touches the stud in her nose. They argue, Ophelia’s sculpted face hard and unyielding.

Eventually, tears streaming from her eyes, the poor girl on the receiving end pulls out the stud with a wince, throws it on the ground, and pushes through the door into Ophelia’s salon.

Old anger, which I can forget about sometimes but never really leaves me, flares into vivid color as the image of the tearful girl blurs into my little sister, Maggie, aged fourteen. Of all my memories, the one of her crying her eyes out, black mascara and eyeliner streaking her cheeks, is the most vivid.

That day, one of her last, Ophelia and her group of bitches cornered her at recess. They shoved her head in the toilet, toldher to scrub off the gothy makeup she liked to experiment with, and left her in the bathroom crying her eyes out. I only found her there because a sophomore girl took pity on her and fetched me.

Ophelia is the same bully now as she was then, imposing her prissy little vision on the world. I’m almost glad to see it because of what lies ahead for her. I zoom the camera in and really focus on the woman who has one single day of freedom left.

She’s beautiful in a boring way. Natural, honey-blond hair curled into waves that cascade down her back. Subtle makeup, a tailored suit, and a single pair of diamond drop earrings. Everything is pristine, perfect, and so sensible it makes her look much older than twenty-four.

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