Chapter 4

The shopping spree at the mall had been exhilarating. Gabrielle wasted no time whisking Harrison straight to The Velvet Lounge. Tonight called for celebration—Harrison deserved nothing less.

Harrison hadn’t anticipated running into Nathaniel and his entourage here. Their snide remarks carried easily across the room.

She recognized Sebastian and the others in the VIP booth. They were Nathaniel’s inner circle, with Sebastian being his closest confidant. Back when Nathaniel had his whirlwind romance with Isabella, they’d all adored her. Sebastian had even declared her Nathaniel’s future wife.

Three years of marriage hadn’t earned Harrison their acceptance.

The labels they slapped on her never changed—gold-digger, plain Jane, backwater nobody.

When a man didn’t love you, his friends wouldn’t respect you either.

Gabrielle’s temper flared. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to storm their booth. "I’ll rip their tongues out!"

Harrison caught her wrist. "Gabrielle, don’t. We’re divorced now. They’re not worth it."

Gabrielle huffed but relented at Harrison’s calm dismissal. Then, as whispers and awed murmurs spread through the crowd—angel, goddess, breathtaking—Gabrielle’s mood lifted. "Come on, Harrison. Time to celebrate."

She dragged Harrison to another VIP booth and snapped her fingers imperiously. "Bring every male host in this place to me. Now."

Meanwhile, at Nathaniel’s booth, Sebastian and the others continued their derisive commentary—until a glacial stare silenced them.

Nathaniel’s sharp, warning gaze cut through their laughter like a blade.

The men stiffened, mouths snapping shut.

Sebastian shot Nathaniel a glance. Though Nathaniel had never paid Harrison much attention, she had devoted three years to him. Maybe that still counted for something.

Then, a commotion erupted nearby.

"Damn, look at her!"

"Who is that?"

Following the crowd’s stares, Sebastian turned—and nearly choked on his drink. "Holy hell. She’s unreal."

The other men gaped, transfixed. "Since when did Willowbrook have someone like her? How have we never seen her before?"

Sebastian elbowed Nathaniel. "Nathaniel, look. Angel."

Nathaniel, perpetually surrounded by women, couldn’t care less. He’d seen every type—petite, voluptuous, demure, bold. But Harrison’s booth was directly across from his.

When he glanced over, he saw her.

No thick glasses. No frumpy clothes. Just delicate features, porcelain skin, and an ethereal glow. Her glossy black hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk.

An angel, indeed.

Nathaniel stared. Two full seconds.

Sebastian grinned. "So? What do you think?"

Another man scoffed. "Please. Mr. Falcon prefers delicate flowers like Isabella, not ice queens."

"Did you see her legs, though? They’re just as perfect as Isabella’s."

Harrison’s Chanel-inspired dress showcased legs that could haunt a man’s dreams—slender, toned, flawless.

Nathaniel studied her, frowning. Something about her felt familiar.

Then, a line of male hosts approached Harrison’s booth—tall, sculpted, smirking.

Gabrielle beamed. "Pick eight, Harrison."

Harrison, embracing her newfound freedom, pointed lazily. "You. You. And you. All of you—stay."

Sebastian choked. "Eight? She just ordered eight male hosts?"

The others laughed. "Why pay? She could have us for free."

Nathaniel’s phone buzzed.

[VIP Alert: Card ending 0975 charged $500,000 at The Velvet Lounge—eight male hosts.]

Nathaniel’s grip tightened on his phone. His gaze snapped back to the "angel."

If that wasn’t Harrison, who the hell was it?

The hosts crowded around Harrison, pouring drinks, leaning in. "Let’s play a game."

Gabrielle clapped. "Yes! Loser drinks."

Harrison lost the first round. A host handed her a glass. "For you, gorgeous."

She took a sip, but the others protested. "Why him? Drink mine too."

Harrison laughed, overwhelmed by their attention—until a steely grip clamped around her wrist and yanked her up.

Nathaniel’s furious face loomed over her.

She gasped. "Nathaniel—let go!"

Without a word, he dragged her away.

Gabrielle shot up. "Nathaniel! What the hell are you doing?"

Sebastian and the others gaped.

"Harrison?"

"That’s Harrison?"

"The plain Harrison?"

"She’s a goddess."

As Nathaniel hauled her off, Sebastian muttered, "Damn. Harrison stopped chasing Nathaniel—and turned into that."

Nathaniel’s grip was iron. Harrison stumbled, struggling to keep up. "Nathaniel, release me!"

He shoved her against a wall, caging her in. His voice was lethal.

"Harrison. Do I look dead to you?"