Page 72 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
"You have no idea who you're making an enemy of, you… bitch," she spits, fury radiating from her.
"You already called me that," I reply smoothly. "Can't you think of another insult? Anyway, to answer your question—yes, I think I know exactly who I'm dealing with. May I remind you who my husband-to-be is? If I were you, I'd think very carefully about my future before doing anything else stupid."
Her face drains of color. She sniffs, then turns sharply and storms away, leaving me with the server and the gathered crowd.
"Wow," Mrs. Rockson says. "That was incredible."
"I can't believe she'd do something like that," Vivienne murmurs. "I mean, I've always known she was temperamental, but in public?"
"Oh, honey, let's get you cleaned up," Alison says, taking charge. "I'll have my driver fetch another dress for you."
"Bring one of mine," Vivienne adds. "The Seraphina would look amazing on her figure."
"I'd appreciate it. Thank you."
"I'm so sorry," the server begins again, voice trembling, but I wave it off.
"Don't worry. I know it wasn't your fault. I'll let your manager know so you don't get blamed for something you didn't do."
I give her a reassuring smile, and she returns it gratefully. Poor girl—she looks barely out of high school. This must be mortifying.
"The only thing I'd ask," I continue gently, "is if you could find me a bag to put this dress in, and maybe some vinegar and lemon juice. I'd like to see if I can get the stain out."
"Yes, of course! I'll do that right away, ma'am."
"Great. I'll be in the bathroom."
She nods and hurries off.
"Ladies," I say to the group, "I'm so sorry to cut our conversation short, but if you'll excuse me…"
We exchange numbers before I walk toward the bathroom, head high, ignoring the curious stares that follow me.
As I cross the room, I catch sight of Grayson watching me. His expression is unreadable, intense. I wonder if he saw the whole thing—and if he's proud of how I handled it.
Maybe this was a test to see how I'd react under pressure.
Judging by the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, I'd say I passed.
I smirk and wink at him as I head into the bathroom.
Someone's already inside—a striking dark-haired woman checking her makeup in the mirror.
She glances at my dress and smirks. "I saw what happened out there. You didn't handle it badly at all."
"Thank you," I say, stepping up to the sink. "Your dress is gorgeous, by the way. Cavalli?"
"You really do have a good eye," she replies with a smile.
"That's what they say." I wet a napkin and begin dabbing at the stain.
"I don't really blame Ana, though," the woman continues conversationally. "I mean, Grayson Wolfe has a way of making women go crazy. It's an addictive kind of thing. When he's gone, it feels like you're crashing to the ground."
I meet her gaze in the mirror. "Let me guess—you dated him too."
She smirks. "Something like that."
Finished with her makeup, she heads for the door, then pauses and looks back. "Just… be careful, okay? With him, things aren't always as they seem."
