It took everything in her not to make a scene. Not to scream and shout and tear the blond bitches hair out. In fact, the effort with which she held herself to hard, hushed, tones was almost physically painful. Especially when she was making smart ass comments like that.
"He still is, he doesn't even have to know about this. In fact, I'd prefer he didn't. I just want you to know that you need to watch your fucking back. And I hope you feel me in every step you take in that penthouse that I grew up in. Where my mother's perfume probably still lingers."
Eyes narrowing as she lifted her hands to brush her hair from her face, straightening up with a deep breath to regain some of her composure. "You're disgraceful, and I hope you know everyone knows it, too. They're all just too polite to say anything."
do they? she glanced around, taking stock of the people who's opinions she valued, and whether they'd said anything at all. politeness hardly ranked among the surviving qualities of the group here, that much was becoming apparent. she shifts on her heels, arms crossing in front of her.
"why did you say anything, then?" she doesn't feel the threat. there's nothing for her to watch. ember's done little more in her life than make page six. and there are better words than disgrace. "just a threat?" she doesn't feel a particular want or need to watch her back. and she's hardly going to feel any remnants of ember or constance in the guest room. but she doesn't say any of that, she does not starve the fire of oxygen. she lets it burn as it wants.
"don't make demands me of." she was no plaything, and this was not just a world where everything could bend to the will of a wexley. those days were long past. "i'm not on a payroll, and we are not friends."
