Before I could respond, Bradley smirked and answered for me. “Do we really need to ask? He followed you in, of course. Probably dropped your name at the door to get past security.”
“Jordan is a role model in the world of gigolos, isn’t he?” someone quipped with a smirk.
Another chimed in, “Exactly. Most men who live off their women might get a bit of money, but Courtney? She’s given him status! It’s like a poor scholar catching the eye of a princess back in the day.”
“Oh, so Jordan’s a prince consort now?” The group burst into laughter, their mockery as cutting as it was casual.
Courtney glanced down at me, her tone dripping with condescension. “I’ve told you before, my world isn’t one you can fit into. If you keep following me, you’ll only get hurt.”
“You’re right,” I replied, smiling faintly.
In the past, a comment like that would have infuriated me, pushed me to prove myself. I would’ve fought to show Courtney and her circle that I could belong. But I had learned that no matter how much I tried, all I got in return was deeper ridicule, further disdain. These people carried a strange, almost delusional sense of superiority, as if they truly believed themselves to be royalty.