Discarded Toy to Everyone's Sweetheart

The campus golden boy craved fancy pastries, so I baked him some plain homemade sponge cakes.

He took the box with a charming smile, calling me adorable, and then immediately blasted me on his feed. [Being seen with this country bumpkin is a massive downgrade.

She's like cheap baggage I can't shake. I'm done.

Whoever wants to take this boring old toy off my hands, drop a 1 in the comments.] His frat bros flooded the comment section with 1s.

He just laughed. "These guys are so extra," he chuckled. "At least they play along." Meanwhile, I stared at the endless stream of friend requests blowing up my phone.

I accepted them one by one, firing off a single message to each. [Hey there.

Want a homemade sponge cake? $9.99 a pop, delivery included.] Chapter 1 I stared at the endless stream of "1"s in the comment section. I snapped a screenshot and sent it to Vance.

My phone buzzed almost immediately. [It was just a joke.] A minute later, the post vanished from my feed. I tossed and turned on my narrow dorm mattress.

I couldn't hold back the text. [Were you seriously trying to hand me off?] His scoff came through the speaker loud and clear. "Please.

They were just stroking my ego in the comments. Don't flatter yourself into thinking they actually want you." "Get a grip, will you?

If you didn't have a pretty face, screwing you would be as fun as screwing a plank of wood." The line went dead. I sighed, my shoulders dropping.

If they didn't want me, they could at least want my sponge cakes. Vance and I lived in different stratospheres.

The day we met, I was peddling my homemade sponge cakes right outside the campus gates. He popped the trunk of his sports car and pulled out a massive bouquet.

He was confessing his undying love to Blair, the undisputed Itgirl of the finance department. It was a total movie scene—the rich, handsome guy and the gorgeous girl.

Except Blair batted the flowers out of his hands and flipped him off. Vance's face went rigid.

He spun around and pointed a sharp finger right at me, a random bystander. "Blair, don't think you're the only woman on this campus!

If I throw enough money around, any stray dog on the street would know better than you, let alone this woman staring right at me!" It was the most cliché, overthetop alpha male garbage I'd ever heard.

My toes curled in secondhand embarrassment. That is, until I got a closer look at his ruined bouquet. The roses were folded out of crisp, red hundreddollar bills.

A quick mental tally told me that crushed pile of cash was worth at least two weeks of my bakery revenue. My eyes locked onto the money.

I flashed him the sweetest, most blinding smile I could muster. "Babe, I'm the girlfriend you never knew you had." I told Mama Grace, the director at the group home I grew up in, about my new relationship.

She called me the same night. "Harlow, sweetheart, can you feel love now?" "Love? I don't think so.

But being with him makes me really happy." He's loaded, and that makes me very happy. "That's okay.

You process things differently than the other kids, and your feelings are what matter. Just promise me one thing: the second you stop being happy, you walk away.

Okay?" "Okay, Mama Grace. Next time I visit the kids, I'll bring some cakes. And I'll bring him, too." But Vance refused to step foot in an orphanage. I'm a simple girl.

I don't know how to whisper sweet nothings or play the damsel in distress. I only know how to show effort through the little details. Yesterday was Blair's birthday.

She posted a picture of herself blowing out candles on a gorgeous cake. Vance left a comment underneath: [Craving some little cakes.] What a coincidence.

I happen to make a killer homemade sponge cake. Goldenbrown crust, light, fluffy center. One bite, and it's all warm, buttery perfection.

I have an army of repeat customers and ten different group chats filled with loyal fans. I run the college town's sweet tooth scene.

Students from neighboring campuses literally beg me to set up my cart at their gates.

That exact recipe paid off four years of my tuition in a single year, leaving me with a comfortable little cushion in the bank.

Knowing Vance's entitled palate, I dragged myself out of bed before sunrise. I hit the farmer's market for freerange organic eggs and raw honey from a local beekeeper.

I even bit the bullet and splurged on premium imported sugar and whole milk at the highend grocery store.

I packed the fresh, steaming cakes into a thermal box and literally sprinted across campus to deliver them to his morning lecture.

Seeing me panting and covered in a light sheen of sweat, Vance smirked. He popped the lid open right there in front of the entire lecture hall.

The rich, sweet aroma of warm vanilla and butter instantly filled the room. "What is this?" His eyes widened, his usual arrogant mask slipping for a fraction of a second.

I took a deep sniff of the sweet air, extremely proud of my handiwork. "Little cakes. Didn't you say you were craving some? Hurry up and try one.

Tell me if you like it." A few muffled snickers erupted from the back rows, dying out instantly when Vance's face turned ashgray.

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he processed the situation. But when his gaze met mine, he swallowed whatever explosive comment he was about to make.

Chapter 2 "Harlow, you are so fucking… adorable." I slumped back onto my mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. Six months. We had been dating for six months.

I hadn't seen a single dime of his supposed wealth. I guess a regular girl like me shouldn't fantasize about hitting the jackpot. My life hadn't upgraded one bit.

Instead, I just inherited the fulltime unpaid internship of managing a trustfund baby's toxic tantrums.

I originally planned to ask Vance to hype up my bakery hustle to his circle. But Vance treated my homemade cakes like a humiliation.

His snobby, countryclub friends wouldn't be caught dead eating them either. I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to sleep off the annoyance. My phone buzzed. A text from Blair.

She sent a photo—perfectly manicured fingers holding a halfeaten sponge cake. [Not bad.] When Vance and I first made it official, he stuffed me into a designer dress, paid for a professional blowout, and dragged me out to meet his inner circle.

He came from old money, and his childhood friends were just as filthy rich. "Relax, it's just dinner.

They're chill," he had claimed. "I've got such a cute girlfriend, they're dying of jealousy.

They insisted on meeting you." But the hostility at that table was thick enough to choke on. Especially from Blair.

Before I crashed the party, Blair was the only girl allowed in Vance's orbit. Gorgeous, razorsharp, and bleeding blue blood.

She took one look at me and let out a cold laugh. "Vance, you actually brought her out in public?" Vance's face instantly hardened into stone.

He didn't speak a single word to me for the rest of the night. Ever since that dinner.

Whether by accident or sheer petty design, whenever we ended up in the same room, Blair made sure to wear the exact same color palette as me. A ruthless, walking comparison.

I had subtly hinted to Vance that I wanted out of these group dinners. Instead of defending me, his lips curled up into a smug, selfsatisfied smirk. "Harlow, stop overthinking.

Someone as proud as Blair wouldn't waste her energy targeting you." "Never thought I'd see the day she actually regrets it," he had scoffed under his breath.

So, Blair suddenly complimenting my baking? Total glitch in the matrix. My thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating on a reply. Another text popped up. [Ten boxes a day.

Booked for the whole month.] I chewed on my bottom lip. I charged the college kids nineninetynine a box.

But for Blair, the billionaire heiress… I decided to be greedy. [Nineninetynine per cake.] She didn't even haggle.

Three seconds later, a notification popped up: thirty grand wired straight to my account. [Ten cakes per box. Deliver to this address.] Blair owned a sprawling offcampus mansion.

When she saw me lugging the heavy delivery bags up her driveway alone, she stepped forward. She naturally wrapped her fingers around my wrist with an undeniable, dominating force.

Her thumb gently stroked the angry red welts the plastic handles had dug into my palm, a flash of annoyance and unexpected protectiveness crossing her eyes. "I didn't realize ten boxes would be this heavy.

Next time, I'll send my driver to pick you up." A dumbfounded "huh" escaped my lips. I had walked in here fully braced for a brutal humiliation. Clearly, my defenses were way off.

Blair pulled one box from the bags and handed the rest to a maid to distribute.

Standing in the middle of her aggressively luxurious foyer, I shifted my weight, suddenly very aware of my cheap sneakers. "I should probably head out…" She stopped me, pulling a sleek, artisan cream cake from her massive fridge. "Eat.

I just had this delivered today." Staring into those striking, commanding eyes, my body moved on its own. I sat down at her kitchen island.

It was the first time I'd ever tasted real whipped cream. It was sweet, airy, and melted instantly on my tongue. So this was what Vance had actually been craving.

I ducked my head, heat rising in my cheeks. "I didn't know. I've never had anything like this before." My bakery money was blood, sweat, and tears. I was terrified of poverty.

I hoarded every single penny I made, too paranoid to ever splurge on myself. Blair finished a whole sponge cake, giving a satisfied nod.

She leaned over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "It's not your fault. Vance is a useless idiot.

What's the point of having a mouth if he can't even articulate what he wants?" Blair's hands smelled like expensive perfume. And her voice was incredibly soothing.

Chapter 3 It took a second for my brain to catch up. She was dragging Vance. "Wait.

You don't like him?" Blair let out a sharp, derisive scoff. "Name one single redeeming quality that man has.

Let me guess, he's been feeding you some delusional narrative?" "The guy is useless but practically choking on his own fragile ego.

He has to fabricate rumors about outofhisleague women being obsessed with him just to inflate his pathetic market value." "Besides, the idiot can't even bake. Honestly?

He isn't worth a single strand of your hair." Blair walked me all the way to the front door.

A genuine, soft smile curved her lips. "Will I see you tomorrow?" My brain was still shortcircuiting from the compliments. "Yeah.

Definitely." A sleek sports car pulled up to the curb. Vance stepped out. He froze the second he spotted us on the porch.

In two strides, he was grabbing my wrist, his eyes raking up and down my body like he was scanning for injuries. "What the hell are you doing here?

Did Blair mess with you?" Blair rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might check out her own frontal lobe. "Stop hallucinating some pathetic catfight over you.

You aren't worth the oxygen. Get lost." The heavy oak door slammed shut with a deafening bang.

Once I explained the cake delivery, Vance practically bruised his own scalp scratching his head. "Blair? Eating those crusty old pastries?

I thought she only touched pretentious Michelinstar crap." "Whatever, who cares. Axel is opening his new club tonight." He jerked his chin toward the passenger seat. "Get in.

You're coming with." I hated loud, crowded places. "But I have my cart tonight—" His demeanor turned icecold before I even finished the sentence.

His jaw locked. "Harlow, did I phrase that like a question? You're not a trustfund princess, so drop the entitled attitude." "Who's even eating that garbage you sell anyway?

If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be able to afford a single shot of liquor in this place for the rest of your life." "We're going.

Don't be a buzzkill." He wrenched the steering wheel, peeling away from the curb and speeding toward the club district.

I stared down at my lap, silently opening my phone to type out apologies to every single group chat. Axel's family had the deepest pockets out of their entire crew.

The grand opening was packed walltowall. The bass thumping through the floorboards threatened to rearrange my internal organs.

A guy with a slickedback undercut sauntered over, shoving a neoncolored shot glass toward my face. "Yo, Vance!

Dragging the little girlfriend everywhere now?" Vance reached out and swatted his hand away. "She's easily spooked. Doesn't drink. It's just us tonight." "Damn, getting protective?

Playing the white knight?" "Please. She still throws fits over nothing.

Ungrateful little thing." The two of them clapped shoulders and disappeared into the strobelit crowd, laughing.

I folded myself into the darkest corner of a velvet VIP booth, my stomach growling in pure boredom. The cushion beside me dipped heavily. I turned my head. It was Axel.

He was wearing a skintight, black muscle tank that clung to every rugged line of his stupidly broad chest and thick arms.

He leaned in close, sliding a tall glass of orange juice across the table toward me. "Honestly thought you were going to ditch. I was up on stage playing the guitar earlier.

Did you catch it?" The club was an absolute zoo. I hadn't seen or heard a single thing. I just nodded frantically. "Yeah.

Yeah, it was… super passionate." "Place is too chaotic tonight. I'll play for you properly next time. What kind of music are you into?" I wasn't close to Axel at all.

The very first time we met, he was rocking fiery crimson hair, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He gave off this arrogant, untouchable rockstar vibe.

Being around chronically cool people made my chest tight, so I had practically kept my eyes glued to the floor the whole time. But for some reason, he had latched onto me.

Out of nowhere, right in the middle of group conversations, he'd suddenly throw a question my way. "Does Harlow like this dish? Do you prefer Italian or takeout?

What's on your playlist? Indie?" "Jazz? … Not much of a music person? I'll get you some Broadway tickets then." We fell into this weird, disjointed rhythm of small talk.

Chapter 4 Vance was completely wasted with his trustfund bros, causing a massive scene and bragging at the top of his lungs.

Axel suddenly leaned in close, his usual sharp edges melting away. His pinky lightly traced the center of my palm. "Those sponge cakes were incredible. I'm craving one right now.

Take me to get some?" As I scanned the QR code for a Lime escooter with Axel standing right behind me, a split second of hesitation hit.

Even if Vance said some incredibly messed up things. Sneaking off with his best friend felt like crossing a line. But honestly, I was reaching my limit.

Vance wasn't exactly a genius, and he treated me like an afterthought. Sure, he was loaded, but he barely spent a dime on me. And he didn't even like my baking.

When I put it like that, his opinion didn't really matter anyway. "Harlow, I have no idea how to ride an escooter," Axel said, running a hand through his hair with a deep frown. "I only know how to drive cars." Great.

I had to chauffeur the billionaire heir. He squeezed onto the back of the scooter, his arms loosely wrapping around my waist. "Tonight is so lucky." "Yeah.

Good thing there are no cops out tonight. It's a twentydollar fine if we get caught riding double." A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated against my back. "Right.

We're so lucky." We cruised all the way to the cramped rental flat I used near campus. It housed all my heavy baking equipment.

Luckily, I had some leftover premium ingredients from Blair's massive order. Axel scrubbed his hands at the sink and actually started helping.

He moved around the prep station like a total pro. "My mom's a food blogger.

She practically lives in the kitchen, so I picked up a few things," he explained, catching my surprised look.

Strapping on a floral apron somehow gave the edgy redhead a serious domestic vibe. He casually peeled off his oversized jacket, leaving only a skintight black muscle tank.

The stretched fabric clung to every inch of his incredibly broad shoulders and thick biceps, revealing the dark ink of a wild tattoo wrapping around his upper arm.

His massive frame crammed into my tiny, claustrophobic kitchen radiated this heavy, dangerous presence.

Yet, the way he looked down and stirred the batter was so surprisingly gentle. "That's super impressive," I praised him, genuinely meaning it. "I love a guy who can cook." "Damn, it's getting hot in here.

Your face is completely red. Just go wait in the other room," Axel blurted out. He practically bolted from the conversation, turning his back to focus intensely on the stove.

I expertly prepped the rest of the ingredients and fired up the oven. A few minutes later, the rich, buttery aroma filled the tiny space.

I placed a plate of steaming, fresh sponge cakes onto the folding table. Axel inhaled deeply.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Vance is legitimately out of his mind." "Who the hell wouldn't want to come home to a warm, soft cake like this?

This feels amazing." Something flipped in my chest. I couldn't help but smile at him, my dimples showing. "Thank you." Cough— Axel suddenly choked on his bite.

I scrambled to grab a paper cup, poured some water, and hurried over to pat his back.

The second my palm hit the solid muscle between his shoulder blades, his Adam's apple bobbed hard.

When he spoke again, his voice had dropped a full octave, entirely gravelly. "Don't thank me. I genuinely mean it.

This feels amazing." After polishing off the plate, Axel flatout refused to leave. "Harlow, I drank, so I can't drive. And I still don't know how to ride a scooter.

You expect me to walk all the way back?" "Come on, take me in for the night. Please?" His logic seemed flawless. I tossed a blanket onto the wornout sofa for him.

Axel had a smooth voice and an incredibly gorgeous face. Having him crash in my living room instantly made the peeling wallpaper look like high art.

Turns out Vance hadn't lied to me after all. His friends really were great people. It wasn't until my eyes started drooping that Vance finally called.

He hadn't even realized I was gone. His words slurred heavily over the speaker. "Harlow, don't wait up for me.

Just grab an Uber… grab an Uber back." I rolled my eyes, feeling nothing, and hit end. He dragged me out as a prop for his ego. And he wouldn't even cover my ride home. Cheapskate.

How did I ever let that crumpled bouquet of cash blind me in the first place? Seeing me staring blankly at my dark screen in total silence, Axel shifted closer on the couch.

His voice dropped to a soft, careful murmur. "Vance made a post on his feed a few days ago.

Did you see it?" Chapter 5 I nodded. "He claims it was just a joke." Axel went dead still.

A dark, unreadable undercurrent flashed through his eyes. "He always treats girls like disposable trash.

Throws his trust fund around, acts like a complete prick… God knows how many exes he's pushed away.

He actually wanted to toss those cakes you spent hours baking straight into the garbage." "Good thing I snatched the box before he could.

Look, I've been flying solo for years, but even I know you're supposed to spoil your girl.

When he's being a massive jerk to you… just come find me." Sensing a lucrative business opportunity, I immediately sat up straight. "You like my sponge cakes?

Want to consider a monthly subscription plan?" I pulled up my Venmo QR code and shoved my phone toward him. Axel nodded vigorously. "Yeah.

I love them." I smiled, completely satisfied. Who could ever say no to a good sponge cake? Having secured another massive VIP client, I went to sleep perfectly content.

My rental was basically a glorified shack; the roar of a sports car engine cut right through the thin walls.

First thing in the morning, Vance's car idled right outside my front door. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and splashed some cold water on my face.

When I walked out into the main room, Vance was already inside, casually chatting with Axel. "Those guys wouldn't let me leave last night.

Kept forcing shots down my throat talking about some reunion, even though we barely hang out.

They're way closer to you anyway," Vance rambled. "Thanks for bringing my girl back, man.

I was seriously worried about Harlow taking an Uber alone." Vance's hair was a rat's nest, and he reeked of stale alcohol and bad decisions.

He dropped a greasy paper bag of takeout breakfast onto my folding table and finally glanced my way. His gaze snapped to my collarbone. "What the hell is that on your neck?

Why is it red?" I casually brought a hand up to cover the mark. "Mosquito bite." "This place is a literal dump.

I don't know how you can stand living here," he waved a hand in disgust. "Whatever. Since you're fine, I'm out of here." "I've got some business to handle with Blair.

I'll swing by later to keep you company. Be a good girl, okay? There's nothing going on between me and her, so don't throw a jealous fit." I gave him a sweet, compliant nod. "Okay.

I trust you." Because the one who actually has something going on with Blair is me. The roar of the engine faded down the street.

Axel gave me a stiff nod. "Guess I should head out too—" "Did you do this? While I was asleep?" I tapped the red mark on my neck. Axel went rigid.

For the first time since I'd known him, the playful smirk dropped off his face. "Do you mind?" I nodded. I met his eyes, my expression dead serious. "I do.

I only like loyal, obedient good boys. Next time, you can just ask me directly." With two massive clients on my roster, my quality of life skyrocketed.

After Axel practically fled my apartment that morning, something clicked in his brain. Now, he reported his daily schedule to me like clockwork. [Afternoon tea.

Any pastries you like? I'll bring some over next time. My mom made them.] [Harlow, I hit the library today.

The sunlight is amazing.] [Vance wanted to hang out, but he got dragged to a bar at the last minute.] I tapped open the attached photo.

The guy on my screen had chopped off his wild red hair, dyed it a tame black, and swapped his contacts for thick, blackrimmed glasses.

With an oversized hoodie swallowing his massive physique, he actually looked like a harmless college nerd. I couldn't fight the smirk pulling at my lips.

I tapped out a quick response, attaching a cute, cuddly sticker.

Blair popped a fresh, perfectly sweet strawberry past my lips. "What color dress do you want to wear to the next group dinner?

I'll have someone custommake it for you in advance." "Something a little more casual?" "Done." Between Blair's spoiling and Axel's clingy devotion… I soaked it all up without a second thought.

My feelings matter most. That was the one rule Mama Grace had drilled into my head since I was a kid. Being with them was incredibly comfortable.

And the sex was pretty damn good, too. Chapter 6 I was honestly so grateful to Vance. Without him, I would never have met such incredible people.

The second I walked out of Blair's house, the class rep texted me: [You failed your Economics midterm.] My world shattered. Vance picked me up in his car.

Seeing the color drain from my face, he let out a sharp laugh. "Economics?

Gideon is literally an economics professor," Vance said. "Nerds like him only know how to kiss up to the older generation.

Put him in the real world, and he'd get eaten alive." "He offered to tutor us at his place. Good timing, I'll just drop you off." Our luck was terrible.

A massive thunderstorm hit halfway there. Just the short sprint from the driveway into Gideon's cliffside mansion left me completely soaked to the bone. "The rain is too heavy.

It's not safe to drive back. Stay the night," Gideon commanded. Vance nodded, grabbing a bathrobe and heading straight for the guest shower. Gideon handed me a plush robe as well.

It hung loosely off my frame. A sharp knock sounded at the door. "Come in." I kept my head down, adjusting the oversized collar, assuming it was Vance.

The heavy door clicked shut behind me. Gideon's voice drifted through the room. "I've never had a girlfriend. There's no women's sleepwear in this house.

You'll just have to wear mine. Throw the wet clothes away. I'll have someone bring you a new set tomorrow." He bent down to pick up the soaked clothes I had discarded on the floor.

But his fingertips stalled the second they brushed against one specific item. I glanced back. It was my bra.

His long, elegant fingers—hands that were always holding a pen—gripped the thin fabric so tightly that the veins on the back of his hand pulsed beneath his skin.

He slowly raised his eyes.

His aggressively predatory gaze locked onto me through his goldrimmed glasses, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly raspy register. "Actually… I saw you take Axel home that night.

He's too wild. Brainless. He's just playing the obedient puppy for you." I didn't utter a single word.

He stayed completely frozen in that dominant position. "Vance drank a glass of milk. It was laced with sleeping pills. He won't be coming," he stated flatly.

The sun broke through the clouds the next morning. We drove straight from Gideon's estate to the group dinner. I was wearing a pale blue dress.

Blair walked in sporting a blue silk buttondown, a sharp black blazer draped effortlessly over her forearm.

Vance's eyes lingered on her before shifting to me with a mocking smirk. "Harlow, we've known each other for this long and you're still throwing jealous fits?

With her pedigree, you can't outshine her just by copying her clothes…" My jaw clenched tight as a wave of heat rushed up my neck.

I had told him countless times that wasn't the case, but Vance never listened. Blair strode right over and grabbed my hand. "Ignore the barking dog.

Sit next to me." "Since when are you two so close?" Vance blinked, completely thrown off. He turned his head and spotted Axel. His eyes practically bulged out of his skull. "Axel?

What the hell happened to your hair?" Axel lazily raised a hand, running his fingers through his freshly dyed black strands. "Someone didn't like it." Vance burst into an exaggerated bark of laughter. "You're kidding.

Who would dare complain about the great Axel?

With our bank accounts, why the hell would we care what a woman prefers?" Gideon's gaze darkened with a heavy, loaded meaning. "Those who refuse to give their heart will never get one in return." "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with all of you today?

You're speaking in riddles." Blair sat directly on my left. Axel took my right. Gideon wedged himself in right next to Axel.

They were entirely focused on pouring my water and handing me fruit. A massive, glaring empty space isolated Vance on both sides.

Realizing he was completely iced out, he slammed his glass down in pure frustration. "Whatever. Same old rules. Truth or Dare.

Let's make it actually interesting." [When was the last time you had sex?] The empty bottle spun and stopped, pointing dead center at Gideon.

Chapter 7 Vance choked on a bark of laughter. "The guy hasn't even held a woman's hand. What's he going to say? Twentyfive years ago? Hahaha…" Gideon set his glass down.

The crystal clinked sharply against the table. "Yesterday." Blair raised a surprised eyebrow. Axel's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Cut the crap.

It was pouring yesterday, and you and I were stuck together the whole…" Vance's gaze suddenly snapped to me. The smug grin instantly vanished from his face.

He shoved his chair back so hard it screeched against the floor, jabbing a finger straight at Gideon. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Harlow was the only girl in that house last night! Are you out of your damn mind?

That's my girlfriend!" "A man who can't even take care of his own girlfriend has no right to bark at me." Gideon's expression remained flawlessly composed as he casually loosened his tie. "Are you kidding me?

Harlow is my girl. I treat her however the hell I want!" Vance let out a harsh scoff. "She hasn't said a damn word complaining.

Why are you suddenly playing the white knight?" The tension in the room instantly snapped tight.

Axel let out a dark, mocking hum, slamming his empty bottle onto the glass tabletop. "I honestly thought I only had to deal with Vance.

Never expected Gideon to jump into the ring to steal her too. You're supposed to teach students, Professor. Not drag them into your bed." "The feeling is mutual," Gideon shot back.

Gideon methodically unfastened his cufflinks, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms to reveal lean, corded muscle.

His icy gaze swept over Vance like he was looking at literal trash. "Playing the obedient puppy with zero shame. Were you that terrified Harlow wouldn't look twice at you?

Guess even you knew you were unpresentable before." Vance's voice actually shook. "The person who made you dye your hair black… was Harlow?! When the hell did you two hook up?

Was it the night of the club opening?" Axel leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes hard. "You dragged a gorgeous girl to a club, completely ignored her, and went off to drink.

You're literally braindamaged." Vance went wild, barking at everyone around the table.

Realizing he was losing the war on all fronts, he suddenly spun his crosshairs onto me. "Harlow! You're screwing around with them behind my back?

Don't you forget, I'm the one who dragged your broke, cakepeddling ass into high society! Is this how you repay me?!" Axel launched himself out of his seat.

He planted both hands flat on the table, his massive, heavily muscled frame looming over the surface like a mountain. "Shut your mouth.

You treated her like trash, so how the hell is this her fault? Nobody can stomach your toxic temper. We seduced her first." "Her catching feelings is just human nature.

She didn't do a single thing wrong. You're just entirely incapable of keeping a woman, Vance