"Patrick! Tell your friends to back off!"
A flicker of nervousness crossed their faces. They glanced at each other.
But Patrick just slid his arm around Effie's waist.
His expression was completely blank.
He turned and walked away.
"Patr—"
"Hey, princess." The man pulled me into his arms, gripping my chin. "How are you still not getting it? In Patrick's world, your little sister ranks above us, above a dog, and above you."
My expression went cold.
"So be a good girl. Keep us happy, and we'll put in a word with Patrick. Maybe he'll let you stick around as his little lapdog."
"Yeah, relax. We'll keep your secret, princess."
The champagne flute tightened in my grip.
Crack.
It shattered in my hand.
They stared at the broken glass between my fingers.
Stunned.
"Who exactly do you think you're messing with?"
Bam.
My fist connected with the temple of the man holding me. Hard.
I hadn't just outworked Effie in academics and credentials over the years.
I'd outworked her in athletics, too.
Boxing was one of my skills.
Blood sprayed from his nose.
"You crazy b—"
A bottle smashed against the back of my head.
My vision swam.
But years of disciplined training kept my legs under me. I gritted my teeth and stayed standing.