sharp, musical sound that carried over the background noise of the street—as she pointed a manicured finger directly at James’s chest.
Beside her stood Julian, wearing a navy blue three-piece suit with a silk tie. Julian had a smug, satisfied smirk plastered across his face, his arms loosely folded as he enjoyed the spectacle.
"Look at you, standing there," Vanessa said, stepping forward, her tone dripping with theatrical amusement. "You really think you belong here, James? At a five-thousand-dollar-a-plate charity gala?"
James didn't flinch. He didn't step back. He simply looked at her, his voice quiet and completely level. "I was invited, Vanessa."
"Invited?" Vanessa scoffed, throwing her head back in another burst of laughter. "By whom? The valets? Just face reality, James. Your little tech startup went under six months ago. You’re drowning in debt, living out of a rented studio in Brooklyn, while Julian and I just closed the acquisition deal of the decade."
She stepped closer until the tip of her pointed finger was inches from his brown corduroy jacket.
"Your time is up," she hissed softly, her smile disappearing into a cold, venomous sneer. "Now get out of my sight."