Revenge of The Furtive Billionaire Heir

What’s wrong with you?

The host asks everyone to be seated, so I look around the tables to see if there is an empty spot. There are few, so I choose the one nearest to me. As I make my way through the tables, I realize that the seat next to me is occupied by none other than Coraline Granger.

She looks so different from the girl she once was but similar at the same time. For example, her previous bob-cut style haircut is gone, replaces by luscious platinum blond curls that rivulet down her naked shoulders. Her gorgeous blue eyes, larger than life and electric, flashes t her friends, crinkling at the corners as she laughs at something they say. Her face gleams like the full moon, her makeup almost non-existent. Ruby-red lips contrast dizzyingly with the pearlescent tone of her teeth. She wears diamonds in her ears and neck, with a plain, black strapless dress.

She looks so mature and sophisticated.

Beautiful.

I could hear the conversation she’s having with her friends even from here, them inquiring her about her whereabouts and her life.

“How have you been, Coraline? Girl, you look so gorgeous.”

“How’s university treating you?”

“You got a boyfriend yet? Go on, don’t be shy.”

She used to be very open and friendly, nice enough compared to Jon, so I risk it and decide to take the seat next to her. And it’s not like I’m going to hit on her or creep her out. I just want a seat and maybe some platonic company for the evening.

Maybe I should’ve asked her permission before trying to take a seat because as soon as Coraline notices me next to her, her delicate nose exhales a sniff.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t sit here,” putting her hand on the chair as if she’s trying to protect it, Coraline states, “Please find somewhere else.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I have the good grace to blush, certain that I was about to take someone’s seat, “I didn’t realize it was occupied.”

Coraline glances at her friends, and when she turns back to me there is a taunting smirk on her lips.

I feel nasty déjà vu in the back of my mind. Something tells me that smirk is not good.

“No, the seat is not occupied,” she replies haughtily, “I just don’t want to sit next to a hobo like you. Are you lost or something? Because this is not the sort of place where we’d have the misfortune of bumping into someone like you.”

The conversation around the table grinds to a halt as I stare at her, processing what she’d just uttered. What is this, be an asshole to Jace week? Why was everyone so up against me? I don’t think I’ve even talked to Coraline before.

“Well,” I find my voice after overcoming my initial shock. “That was a little uncalled for, isn’t it? I was invited to this event.”

 “Then you should’ve had the decency to dress in something better,” Jon’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see him sauntering towards us. His expression morphs into that of disgust as he looks me up and down, “What on earth made you think wearing that garbage here was acceptable?”

“I was never given a specific dress code,” I try to reason, although I have dressed up in the best clothes I own. Jeans, shirts, and a respectable coat. Should I have rented a whole damn tux for a dinner?

“Still, when you hear the name of a fine establishment like this, you should be able to call upon your common sense,” Jon scoffs, “Did you get those shoes from a dump truck or something?”

My cheeks heat up as I look down at my old vans.

“Geez, you’re right, Jon, they look hideous,” Coraline added, fake gagging before turning her attention to Jon’s shoes, “Compared to yours, they look vile.”

Jon grins, “Check it out, sweetheart,” he sticks a leg out, showing off the designer shoes that adorn his foot. They are back in color and look to be made of leather, positively shimmering in the evening lights. There’s a harness with black metal buckles going around the ankle and down to the crevice between his sole and the slop leading to the ball. The Gucci mark shines proudly. There’s a dot pattern on the toes, and I have to admit, they are some nice shoes.

But I cannot stop the sudden huff of laughter that escapes my throat, making everyone glare at me.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I try to get myself under control. “But Jon, I think someone scammed you on those shoes. Those aren’t real Gucci, they’re copies.”

“What?!” Jon growls, and maybe I should take that as a warning to back off. Too bad my mouth is filter-less tonight.

“The logo is slightly different,” I point out, “I’m afraid those are forged. Clever, but forged nonetheless.”

Everyone starts to whisper at one another in low voices, giving us incredulous looks. Jon slowly reddens, a thunderous expression overtaking his face.

“And how do you know that, garbage boy? Have you ever seen a real Gucci pair?” Jon looks downright mad, “Why don’t you take your ignorant ass somewhere else and spare us your embarrassing attempts at trying to seem like a big shot. Seriously, fuck off.”

I gape at him, “Dude, are you okay?” I question, “You just went from zero to a hundred in less than five seconds.”

“Fuck you, you miserable shit!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“That’s it!” Coraline stomps her foot on the floor, and I snap my head at her.

But my reflexes are not as fine-tuned enough to detect her next step. The crack of her palm on my cheek brings the whole world to a halt, and the force behind it makes me stumble. In a corner of my mind, I realize that I just got slapped twice within two days one after the other.

The whole reception room gasps.

“Apologize to Jon,” Coraline growls at me, “Right. Now!”