"And who knows what diseases a woman like her carries? Using her things? Absolutely disgusting!"
I ignored them and simply took photos of the damaged makeup.
The loss was easily over a million, enough to file a case.
"What? Cat got your tongue?" Eliza's voice grew even more triumphant as I stayed silent.
Eliza kicked at the hem of my dress.
"Wearing something that's so slutty—don't tell me you usually use bridal makeup gigs as an excuse to seduce the groom?"
My hand paused mid-air.
I was the chairwoman of an internationally renowned cosmetics corporation, worth hundreds of billions, and a globally recognized makeup artist.
Countless celebrities begged for an appointment with me and still couldn't get a slot. And yet here I was, lowering myself to do her makeup—only because she was marrying Maverick.
And she dared to insult my professionalism?
When she opened her mouth again, I lifted my gaze and met hers head-on.
"You're pregnant before marriage and still claim to have some kind of virginity complex?"
A laugh escaped me. "Seriously? You? Calling anyone else dirty?"
"Where do you get that kind of face?"