I groan internally as she pushes away from the wall she’s leaning against and walks toward me with deliberate steps. For a brief moment, I consider turning and walking — maybe even running — away. But she’s already closing the distance, and running would only make me look weak.
I force my face into something resembling a smile as she stops in front of me.
“Hi, Naomi,” I say, struggling to keep my voice neutral.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the plant lady!” she announces loudly, drawing the attention of those nearby. “Good to see you finally decided to show up to one of our little get-togethers. We were all beginning to worry you don’t like us.”
She turns to the bartender. “Beer!” she commands, not bothering with please or thank you. While her attention is momentarily diverted, I mutter under my breath, “Plant lady. So clever.”
She whips her head back around; her smile sharp as a knife. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, taking a swig of my beer.
Naomi’s eyes scan me from head to toe, lingering on my sundress with its delicate pattern of daisies. Her own outfit of ripped jeans and a black tank top that reveals an intricate sleeve of tattoos couldn’t be more different from mine.
“Cute dress,” she says, the word ‘cute’ somehow sounding like an insult in her mouth. “Isn’t it a bit…much, though? This isn’t exactly a garden party.”
“Really? I never would have guessed.” Heat creeps up the back of my neck, but I match her stare steadily, refusing to be the one to look away first. She studies me with an expression that’s half amusement, half something else.
Up close, Naomi is striking rather than conventionally pretty. Her bright red curls tumble wildly around her shoulders, framing a face dominated by sharp cheekbones and large, calculating brown eyes. The freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks should make her look girlish, but somehow only emphasize the hardness in her expression.
“So,” she pauses to take a sip of her beer. “Heard you and Viper hit three years last month.” She leans in closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Tell me, is being his old lady everything you dreamed it would be?”
I stare at her, taken aback. “That’s… a weird thing to ask someone.”
Naomi shrugs, her freckled shoulders rising and falling beneath her tank top. “Just making conversation.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I’m trying to think of a polite reason to walk away without causing offence when Naomi continues. “Viper has always had…interesting taste in women.” She’s staring blankly at the opposite wall, and I get the feeling she’s talking more to herself than to me. Suddenly her eyes snap back to me. “But you? You don’t fit into this world. His world. We all know it.”
“I fit with Roman just fine,” I reply, heat rising to my cheeks. I don’t need to justify my marriage to Atlas’s daughter, of all people.
“Hmm.” She takes a long drink, watching me over the rim of her bottle. “How long do you think you two will last when you’re so obviously out of place here? I mean, look at you.” Her eyes scan me from head to toe. “You stick out like a daisy in a field of thorn bushes.”
I stare at her for a long moment, processing her audacity. “I’m not talking to you about this,” I say finally, turning to walk away.
“Club life is not for the faint of heart, you know,” Naomi calls after me, her voice carrying over the music. “It’s hard. And it can be more dangerous than outsiders expect.”
I stop in my tracks, something in her tone making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Slowly, I turn back to face her.
“Is that a threat?” I ask, the words coming out more steadily than I feel.
Naomi’s eyes widen in mock offense, one hand flying to her chest. “Me? Threaten you? Of course not!” She laughs. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen lots of patch chasers come and go. Soon they all realize that it’s best to move on.”
She steps closer; her smile never reaching her eyes. “It’s going to be a big night tonight, plant lady,” she says, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. “See ya later.”
With that, she turns and walks away, her hips swaying confidently as she makes her way back toward her father and the inner circle.
I’m frozen for a minute, trying to process what just happened. Was that a threat? A warning? Or just Naomi being a bitch? The beer in my hand suddenly tastes sour, and the music feels too loud; the room too crowded. I give myself a little shake, trying to dislodge the unease that’s settled over me. And however uncertain I am about Naomi’s intentions, I know one thing for sure.
I came, I tried, I definitely get to find a corner now.
I scan the room for a relatively quiet spot where I can wait out the rest of this party. There’s a small table in the far corner, partially hidden behind a support column. Perfect. I start to make my way over there.
Suddenly the music cuts off. Turning, I watch as Atlas steps up onto a platform at one end of the room, his imposing figure commanding attention without him having to say a word. The conversation dies down as everyone turns toward him.
“Brothers!” his voice booms across the space. “We’re here tonight for something special.”
The crowd shifts, people moving closer to the makeshift stage. I remain where I am, watching as Roman moves to stand near the front.