May couldn’t bear to watch them humiliate Claire Linwood any longer. Fury surged through her, and she shot to her feet, her voice clear and sharp. “Get out! You’re not welcome in our suite.”
The laughter in the room slowly faded. Heads turned, eyes narrowing with sneering contempt as they regarded May.
“Your suite? This is the Grandeur Hotel’s top-tier VIP suite. They don’t just let anyone in here. Do you really expect us to believe that you two nobodies could afford to dine here?”
“Take a good look in the mirror before you talk big. Back in high school, Claire was broke as dirt—she could barely scrape together enough for lunch. While the rest of us ate in the cafeteria, she’d sit there sipping cold water like some starved stray. And when we were generous enough to offer her our leftovers, she’d turn up her nose, acting all high and mighty. I’ve never met anyone more fake.”
“We all know what kind of person she really is. Who is she trying to impress now, acting like some big shot? Pathetic.” One woman actually spat on the floor, face twisted in disdain.
“Claire, just admit you’re here to cozy up to the class heartthrob. There’s no need for this charade. We all know each other too well. Don’t pretend to be a saint when everyone knows your history.”
“So what if you got good grades? It didn’t stop you from ruining your reputation. Now you’ve even done time, and yet you’re still here pretending to be someone you’re not.”
Their jeers came one after another, buzzing around Claire like a swarm of flies, each one piling on the shame.
And as they heckled, they strolled over and took seats around the table, making themselves right at home. One man, barely settled next to Claire, had the nerve to drape an arm over her shoulders, flashing a sickeningly insincere grin.
“So, tell me—what do you want to eat? It’s on me. After all, you’ve never had a decent meal in your life. Straight out of college and straight into prison—bet you’ve never tasted anything this good.”
Claire shook his arm off with a sudden jerk, her voice icy. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
The man—a heavyset guy in a tacky suit—looked stung by her public rebuff, his face flushing with embarrassment.
He shot to his feet, pointing a pudgy finger right in Claire’s face and bellowed, “Claire, don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I’m telling you now—if you blow this chance, you’ll never set foot in the Grandeur Hotel again!”
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom