Page 2 of Claim

“It’s not the designers she’s into. It’s the jewelers.”

“No, I heard she’s banging the lead singer of that band.”

“She’s such a TMZ wannabe. Always doing something to get attention. She should get on a table like Farah if she’s so desperate to get a contract.”

They all started laughing, and the last comment was so loud that I knew nearly every group around them had heard the words that had me clenching my jaw.

These assholes knew nothing about me, and to spread shit like that was aggravating. They had no clue what it was like being a Morelli, to have things like that get back to my family.

I’d dealt with this most of my adult life. Slut shaming someone, knowing that they’d been the one to do wrong, was the lowest of the low.

The damage, the pain, and as a whole what it does to a person’s life.

Turning, I stalked over to the group. I pushed past two large guys and got in the face of a tall blonde.

“Tabatha, did you say something about my love life?”

The shock in her gray eyes would have amused me if I wasn’t ready to punch her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We were discussing clothing.”

“Listen very carefully. If you don’t have the lady balls to admit the gossip you spread about people to their face, I suggest shutting the fuck up.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. “What about you?”

“I own what I say. You are a lying asshole who can’t admit when you’re in the wrong. I—” I took a step toward her, ready to cause a tabloid-worthy scene for which I’d happily accept the consequence with my family.

That was when my gaze caught the silhouette of a man I’d know anywhere, and my stomach dropped, and bile threatened to rise in my throat.

I hated that bastard with every fiber of my being.

I’d barely stepped out of my childhood when he’d cost me more than I wanted to admit.

Why was he here?

I’d gone out of my way to ensure he wasn’t on the guest list.

Why wouldn’t he leave me alone?

He’d taken so much from me already.

I had to get out of here.

Keep it together, Sophia.

Gathering my thoughts, I focused on Tabatha and spoke without revealing my unease, “I don’t have time for you and your petty antics. You know damn well I’m not with anyone, and I have this dress because I bought it.”

“Not all of us have daddy’s money to pay our bills.”

“True. I’m fortunate. But my money paid for this ensemble, not my daddy’s. I work, or did you miss that I’m the face of three lucrative campaigns?”

Turning, I walked away as fast as my heels would allow without losing my balance.

I kept my gaze forward, not daring to risk seeing the smug satisfaction on the bastard’s face at seeing me leave a party because of him.

There was no point in going back to my table. Farah and Christo were used to me bailing, knowing I rarely stayed for a whole evening. They’d inform the rest of our crew.

I needed to add a number six to my list of to-dos: Avoid the asshole at all costs.

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