Page 117 of Champagne Fizz

Simonis talking about me—to Arie!

See, Lada. He can’t be trusted.

My heart ratchets and my adrenaline starts to spike. What the heck is Simon telling Arie? Did he tell her about my condition? About the fact that I’m a—

All my instincts scream to turn around and run: forget this meeting, forget them!

But I have a wedding at this establishment in three days. I can’t walk out and ignore this. I have to walk into that room and face them, take responsibility for Simon (who’s currently stabbing me in the back and blabbing to his best friend)!

My inner take-action-Sue-Blade stalks forward, marching up to the door and whipping it open. Inside are storage shelves and a mess of unorganized food, along with Connor, Arie, and Simon.

“Kendall’s a virgin?!” The words scrape out of Arie’s mouth as I peer in, only to find all six eyes snapping in my direction.

Did Arie blurt out that I’m a virgin?

Unfortunately.

I go numb—numb with surprise, or fear, or rage.

Their expressions change—not expecting me to be standing there—and they start to say things. Simon starts speaking, apologizing probably, but I can’t hear him. All of my focus is on Arie’s pitying face glaring at me like I suddenly make sense to her—my innocence, my fashion sense, my lack of swearing, all the things she thinks are ridiculous.

Of course, I’m a virgin. All the puzzle pieces are fitting together now.

A vicious smile curls Arie’s mouth as her whole posture turns to me, twisting with arrogance and condescension. “Ho-ly shit,” she says, her eyes flaring with drama. “The prodigal virgin appears. Your timing is fucking brilliant.”

I’m a joke.

Again.

Like always.

Simon has turned me into a joke.

My knees go weak and I don’t know how I manage to speak, but somehow I squeak out the words “We have a meeting.” Only, Arie blinks at my naiveté, making me feel like a child that has to explain why she’s sitting with the big kids.

“Kendall—” Simon’s alarmed voice begins, but I cut him off.

“I’m not talking to you!” I snap, looking at him for the first time. The ire in my gaze deflates him like an arrow to the chest. I point at Arie. “I’m talking to you,” I growl, letting my voice get loud. “There’s a wedding in three days and I need to make sure you understand the itinerary and what’s expected of you and your staff. Whatever the heck the three of you are talking about in this stockroom—like gossiping snitch-queens—doesn’t matter! And frankly, it's nobody’s business!”

My eyes cut to Simon, slicing him with my anger:How could you betray me like this?He cowers sheepishly behind those horn-rimmed glasses. I can tell his brain is whirring, concocting excuses, ready to tell everyone he’s just Clark Kent and he doesn’t know anything about Superman. But he isn’t fooling anyone. We can all see he’s a cowardly liar.

“I’ll be outside on the patio,” I announce, turning my attention to Arie. “If someone in this storage closet would like to act like a professional and show up to our scheduled meeting, then they can join me outside. I’d hate to cancel Ned and Olivia’s wedding because you’re a bunch of catty rascals.”

“Assholes,” Arie corrects, superiority dripping from her tone.

“You’re on my last nerve,” I shoot back. “I don’t care if you’re the queen of Flambé, or that you’re my bride’s boss, or that you think you’re Gods-gift to the culinary world. There areboundariesthat need to be respected. If you don’t want to act like a decent human being, then I walk.”

“That’s career suicide,” Arie says coldly. “You’d ruin Ned and Olivia’s wedding because you can’t handle being teased?”

“No,” I growl out. “You’llruin Ned and Olivia’s wedding because it’s more important for you to belittle me so you can feel like a superior witch! Oh, and please, go ahead and try to spin this as my fault to Olivia. But trust me, she knows the difference between her tyrant of a boss and sweet little Weddings-With-Hart me. No one’s going to need convincing about who’s in the wrong here. Even they’ll attest to that!” I point at Simon and Connor.

Arie’s eyes narrow, her face darkening like the cloud covering the moon. She doesn’t acknowledge Simon and Connor, instead her eyes blaze with a dragon’s spite. Her whole posture is gearing up to breathe fire in my direction and burn this whole thing to the ground.

“Arie!” Simon’s voice is sharp, forcing her to break her devil’s stare and turn to him. “Whatever you’re about to say and do—don’t!”

“Or what?” Arie challenges, not cowering to his tone.

“Or you’re going to ruin more than the wedding,” he clips out.

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