Aiden clapped his hand with a satisfied smile across his lips. "Now that's what we're talking about,"
Rielle forced out a smile, as she came down from her SUV with the aid of her bodyguard, and took Aiden's arm. She took his arm more for show than support. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement.
Outside, the building buzzed gently with the hum of conversation and passing laughter. There was nothing dramatic. The gala wasn't the kind of event that tried too hard. It didn't need to.
Inside, the lights were low but intentional. Inside felt like money had tried not to make a scene, and still couldn't help itself.
Rielle moved through the entrance without drawing attention. At first. She didn't announce herself. She didn't need to. People looked up from their conversations with that faint double-take that always came when something you didn't expect suddenly made sense.
Rielle barely blinked when gazes rested on her. She wondered what this gala was all about. She attended one just a few days ago.
Her gaze wandered the room, calm and searching. It wasn't frantic or anxious. Just deliberate. She wanted to see someone appear.
She wasn't here for the small talk. Or the wine. Or the air kisses from people who once voted her out of rooms.
Her eyes paused near the door, then drifted to the balcony. Still no sign of him.
She held a glass of sparkling water without drinking from it. From the outside, she looked composed. Almost bored. But inside, something was ticking. It was inevitable.
Xander had walked away for months but this time felt different. What did he feel that made him so human that moment of the near kiss?
Tonight wasn't about Xander, but she couldn't take him off her mind. He remained stuck there. His childhood story told to her yesterday made things more unbearable.
Rielle was halfway through a slow scan of the ballroom when she caught the scent of something floral and expensive.
Wait, that scent was familiar.
It wasn't from the centerpieces. She was right when she slipped her head. The scent came from the woman now standing beside her.
"Not drinking?" came the voice. Crisp. Curious, but laced with something just sharp enough to sting.
Rielle turned slightly. The woman had a practiced smile and eyes that narrowed just a second too long.
Cleo.
"Just sparkling water," Rielle said, lifting the glass lightly. "Keeps the mind clear."
"How responsible," Cleo replied with a tilt of her head. "Most women need something stronger to get through nights like this."
Rielle secretly rolled her eyes. "Most women settle for less than they deserve. I try not to be one of them."
Cleo blinked. She was not thrown off guard, but was slightly shifted off balance. She took a step closer, clearly reevaluating.
"I'm Cleo, by the way." She extended a manicured hand, not because she wanted to, but because it would be rude not to.
Cleo didn't introduce herself for formalities. She said her name, so it'd ring a bell in the head of this stranger, to let her know how to keep her tune.
"Rielle." She stretched her hand, clearly getting Cleo's message. Her handshake was delicate, but firm. The kind of grip that said: 'I don't need to raise my voice to command attention.'
Cleo didn't let go right away. "Rielle… That's an unusual name." She eyed Rielle from her hair packed into a slick bun down to her heels.
"Is it?"
"No surname?"
Rielle tightened the handshake, since Cleo had more plans to intimidate her. "I've found that people remember me just fine without one."
Cleo's smile twitched. "How mysterious."
Rielle let the silence linger, then said smoothly, "You seem disappointed."
Cleo laughed. Just barely. "No. Just surprised. You don't look like you belong in rooms like this."
Rielle cursed herself inwardly for letting her emotions get the best of her. She was supposed to fit in, not give others the right assumption. Yet, her gaze didn't flinch. "And yet, here I am."
Cleo's eyes flicked over her dress, her posture, her calm expression. She was not looking for flaws, but trying to understand why she couldn't quite place her. "Do we know each other?" she asked after a moment.
"I don't think so," Rielle said, the corner of her mouth lifting. Then she let go of Cleo's hand. It was beginning to get awkward.
"Hm." Cleo sipped her wine. "You remind me of someone."
"Someone you liked?"
Cleo raised a brow. She looked disgusted. "Not particularly."
"Well then," Rielle said sweetly, "I'm sure I'm not her."
Cleo's smile tightened. "You know, I used to have a best friend. Back in the day. She was… not like you."
Rielle raised a brow, wordlessly asking why she was being told this. "Oh?"
"She tried hard to be elegant. Failed miserably." She chuckled.
Rielle's voice softened. "That's a shame. Sometimes we fail simply because we're trying in front of the wrong people."
Cleo didn't speak for a beat.
Then: "You talk like you've been in this circle for years yet look like you don't belong here." She stared at Rielle suspiciously again.
"I haven't," Rielle admitted. "But I've seen enough to know the rules. And how to break them."
Cleo leaned in, intrigued and suspicious all at once. "And what exactly do you do, Rielle?"
"I make things inconvenient for the right people."
Cleo laughed again, a little too loud. "You're quite the character."
"Only when I'm bored."
Their eyes locked for a second longer than necessary. Rielle's expression didn't change, but there was something pulsing underneath. She felt measured. Cleo still didn't recognize her. But she felt her.
"Well," Cleo said, straightening. "Whoever brought you here has… interesting taste."
Rielle gave a half-nod. "I brought myself."
Cleo's expression faltered.
At that moment, Aiden's voice rang across the room, loud and amused. Rielle barely acknowledged it.
Cleo smiled again, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Enjoy your evening, Rielle."
"I already am," Rielle replied, tone dipped in velvet, as she lifted her glass of water.
As Cleo walked away, Rielle let her gaze drift back toward the entrance.
Still no sign of Xander.