Page 148 of Power Play
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Wrong day. Wrong bitch.
“Excuse me?” I step forward, arms folded, tone like a loaded weapon.
She bats her lashes. “Just wanted to clear the air. No hard feelings. We were just having fun that night, but if he says nothing happened, then hey, no harm done, right?”
I don’t even feel the blood rush to my head. I don’t feelanything. I’m so cold it’s clinical.
“You know what I hate, Tabloid Barbie?” I ask sweetly.
She blinks. “What?”
“Women who mistake destruction for attention. Who see something they can’t have and decide to break it, just to see if they can.”
Murphy is already moving to intervene, but he knows better than to get in front of me when I’m in full flight.
“And you,” I continue, stepping closer, “you didn’t just come on to my boyfriend. Youposedfor that photo. Youwanteda headline. You wanted to be relevant for five minutes, and you didn’t care who you hurt to get it.”
She huffs a laugh. “God, are you always this dramatic?”
“No. Only when I’m about to make someone a viral meme.”
And before she can blink, I give her a hard shove; palms flat to her fur-covered shoulders.
She goes skating backward in those stupid heels like Bambi on a sugar high, arms flailing. Hits the ice with a squeal and a squeaky sort ofwhumpf.
Flat on her back.
Floundering like a fish out of water in fake lashes and ego.
The crowd gasps.
And thenerupts.
Laughter, cheers, applause. Someone shouts “KARMA!” and I don’t even flinch.
Murphy stares at me as if I’ve grown wings.
“You just…” he starts.
“I know.”
“She flew.”
“Shedid,” I say, deadpan. “Majestic, really.”
He starts to laugh, the full, belly-deep kind I haven’t heard in weeks.
Then he lifts his hand.
And I slap him a high five so solid it echoes.
Tabloid Girl is still wriggling on the ice, trying to find her dignity. It’s gone, sweetheart. That ship has sailed.
“Drinks?” I say, brushing off my hands.
