"Boss, you already said it’s high society," Rowan sneered. "How could someone like him possibly understand?"
I exhaled a quiet sigh and stepped aside, lighting a cigarette.
Their world was small, their perspectives even smaller. They could only believe what was within their reach.
My job wasn’t exactly classified, but it wasn’t something they’d ever hear about in their circles. With their social standing, they had no way of knowing who I really was.
I wasn’t interested in arguing. I just wanted to get through this gathering and leave, preferably never seeing them again.
Just then, a pink Maserati purred to a stop.
The door swung open and a woman stepped out, her long, slender legs wrapped in sheer black stockings.
Even Thorne, usually so composed, had his attention stolen in an instant.
"Ivy Anderson, you’re here too?"
"I thought you wouldn’t have time to come."
Thorne was overly eager to please, but no matter how expensive his car was, his status was still leagues beneath hers.
Yet Ivy didn’t spare him a single glance. She remained cold and distant, her gaze locked onto me instead.
I turned away, refusing to meet her eyes and took another slow drag of my cigarette.