Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 164

“If you say so.” She sips her drink delicately. “Tell me, how do you keep yourself busy? The Luna must have many talents.”

“I’m an artist,” I reply, surprised that she apparently doesn’t know since everyone else seems to know every detail about me

already.

Her lips press together, as if she thinks art is a folly and not a real career. “I see. You know, Lady Selina has quite the green thumb. Her rare moon flower collection was the envy of Ordan.” She pauses, watching me closely. “Do you garden, Iris?”

“I

“Not really,” I admit. “My apartment doesn’t have much space for plants.” I decide not to mention that I’ve killed every

houseplant I’ve ever owned.

“Sorry, did you say apartment?”

I take another swig of champagne. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”

Her eyes widen. “You mean to tell me that Alpha Arthur hasn’t provided you with a mansion yet?”

“I don’t want one. Never asked for one.” I shrug, “Besides, I recently got into a residency at Abbott Gallery, and-”

“My dear,” she cuts me off, “if he hasn’t purchased a home for you yet, then…” She gives me a pitying look, as if she sees me as a

cheap whore whose mate can’t even be bothered to take care of me.

I’m about to respond when a waiter approaches with another tray of champagne. Grateful for the interruption, I reach for a fresh glass, but my hand knocks against the tray, sending several glasses toppling. Champagne splashes across the marble floor and, horrifyingly, onto the hem of her red dress.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasp, reaching for a napkin.

she his

She steps back, looking at me with pure disgust. “This dress is couture,” she hisses. “Handcrafted by the finest werewolf artisans

in Ordan.”

People around us have stopped talking, turning to stare at the commotion. I feel their eyes on me, judging, assessing. The waiter

scrambles to clean up the mess, waving me off when I try to help.

“I’ll pay for the cleaning,” I offer, my face burning with embarrassment.

The woman lets out a musical laugh. “Oh, you poor thing. This isn’t about money.” She leans in close, her smile still in place but her eyes cold. “No amount of money can buy class, darling. Or belonging.”

With that, she turns and glides away, leaving me standing there with a growing audience. I hear the whispers, see the sidelong

glances. My heart pounds in my chest. I need to get away.

“Excuse me,” I mutter to no one in particular, setting down my half–empty glass and making a beeline for the nearest exit.

I find myself in a hallway, following signs for the restroom. The women’s bathroom is mercifully empty when I push through the

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door. I lean against the marble counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“Well, well,” the tallest one says, her lips curving into a predatory smile. “If it isn’t the human who thinks she can be Luna.”