Page 76 of Tarek

Instantly Archer drops her arm.

“This dress is inappropriate for this event,” Archer snaps. The tip of his ear is turning red. I wanted to jump in, but I love seeing my always-in-control-near-perfect-brother unravel.

“Says who,” Roxy replies as she sends a small wave to a Congress man watching her from the other side of the room. She is so unbothered by my brother’s antics.

“Me. I said so,” Archer jaw clenches and his chin juts out. My poor older brother is having a crisis, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Well, it’s a good thing your job is being a politician and not a fashion designer,” Roxy says nodding and smiling gracefully as if she and Archer weren’t drawing curious glances from other guests.

The Archer I know would be more concerned about his image, especially in a ballroom full of people who are prone to gossip.

“Fashion Designer or not you look like a woman who is trying too hard to bag a rich man at my event. In other words, a slut.” Archer pulls away and fixes the sleeves of his jacket.

A sharp gasp leaves my mouth, as I was about to give him a piece of my mind. Roxy interjects, “You mean like your bubbled-headed, botox infused girlfriend.” Roxy pushes up her breast with her hand, and my brothers’ eyes betrays him as they fall to her cleavage. “Unlike your girlfriend I know my worth and I will aim for someone, much higher than you.”

Regret flickers over my brother’s face. “Shit. Roxy, I-I am sorry.”

A waiter stops near us. “Champagne?”

Roxy takes up a flute and sips as the waiter continues through the crowd. “You’re sorry? No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasted my heart and my life on a no good, egotistical, arrogant, judgmental, hypocritical simple clown like yourself.”

I should jump in and defend my brother, but honestly, he deserves this.

“Roxy please,” my brother’s silver eyes soften, and he stretches his hand out and holds her palm. “Let’s go somewhere private to talk.”

Roxy drops her hand and turns to me, brushing the air beside my cheek with a pair of effortless French kisses. “Let’s do lunch sometime.”

I nod wrapping her in a hug. “I would love that.”

With a smug glance at my brother, she steps back. “Forget the two weeks’ notice. Archer Holt I officially quit. I’ll grab my stuff in the morning.” Without waiting for a response, she gives a Congress man a quick wave before flicking her hand toward the bar and striding off.

“I’m not done talking,” Archer calls after her.

“But she is. Let it go and come back tomorrow,” I encourage him, touching his sleeve lightly. He kisses me on the cheek and made his way to Roxy.

Letting it go, I turn to leave. It’s best if I meet Tarek outside. I look around the room to see my mother and I spot her in deep conversation with a tall, elegant man. From the way she is touching her neck and laughing I can tell she is smitten.

The best idea would be for me to go across there and say goodbye. I would save myself the talk for later. I choose the talk. I came, I saw; I floated around the room. Now I’m done.

My heels click against the marble floor, echoing through the hallway as I make my exit. I could still hear the music from the ballroom. Like myself, it would seem that some people have grown bored by the night activities. Some are leaving, others are standing in small groups having deep conversations.

“I wonder if he is outside already?” I murmur.

“Penny!” someone shouts my name. My stomach sinks in disgust, I know that annoying voice.

Melvin comes strutting up to me like a proud peacock. What did I ever see in this man? He is a doctor, approximately 5’9", in shape, with light brown skin, dark brown eyes, and pink lips. Comes from a politically well-known family. On paper he seems like the perfect guy. In reality he is a low-down scum bag roach of a human.

His stride is slow, as he nears me. I’m confident Melvin will never make a scene because his image is everything to him.

“Melvin, sadly, you look well,” I comment.

Stopping in front of me, with a champagne glass in his hand Melvin nods. “I see you are doing good.”

“Well at least you don’t have to get your eyes checked,”

He sips his wine, and drags his eyes up my body. “I should be upset by the little stunt you pulled.”

“Stunt?” I ask.

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