Liar, Liar

07 | pity party

That deep shade of wine red had only ever looked perfection when splattered on Sahar Al-Abadi's full plump lips, complimenting her dusky skin and wrapped around her soft curves.

Sahar dug her nails into her thighs through the silk of her bold Elie Saab dress and breathed out, a soft pink dusted on her cheeks as she fluttered her lashes, and hooked her arm with Georgiana. Her hand skimmed over the railing as she strutted towards the sprawling verandah, silver stilettos clicking against the stairs.

The huge hall was brimming with people in deep purple lace and gilded masks, bathed in red and green lights as the house music bounced off the walls effortlessly. She involuntarily scanned for s pair of olive tinted irises before Georgiana pulled her back and unhooked their arms only to intertwine their hands and spin her around.

A surprised giggle slipped past her red lips as she allowed her best friend to twirl her, raising her fingertips to the suede silver mask that rest against her skin, a soft scent of fading henna wafting off her hands.

"Come on, Irvine, let's get the shots first!"

"It'll literally take forever to reach the bar!" Georgiana yelled back, shaking her head as she curled her elbow around Sahar's and shoved blindly through the just-arrived-but-already-drunk crowd.

Almost halfway through the dance floor, a hand wrapped around her forearm, a bruising grip as someone swiveled her around, wrenching her grip from Georgiana's, and then she was crashing against his body.

She gasped, fluttering her lashes as she pressed her palms against his shoulders, snubbing the disappointed when she found his beautiful gray eyes instead of the gorgeous seafoam ones she'd unknowingly expected.

Reeve fucking Cooper. Definitely not Abaeze.

She let her lips form a scowl as she attempted at pushing him back. He quickly tangled his hand into her hair, pulling lightly at the roots as he tilted her head to a side and leaned forward, his lips, a hair's breadth away from the shell of her ear and breath warm, a stark contrast to how chilly words, "Looking for Ezekiel, love?"

No, Abaeze actually.

Sahar's heartbeat spiked, but she didn't manifest it, instead veiling it under a confident facade as she twisted her slender fingers on his black button down shirt, crumpling the crisp fabric, "Mind your own fucking business."

Sharp jaw set in a straight line and eyes hooded, his hand traced down her back covered in sheer crimson lace, "You are my fucking business."

Then why did you leave?! Sahar wanted to scream, instead she sent him a confused and disgusted look, dimmed lights flashing across her face, accentuating her exotic features, "Out of my goddamn face, motherfuc-"

Hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back, Reeve let his soft lips brush against her jawline before loosening his grip on her and letting go.

"What on earth, Sar! Why did you let me go?"

Not answering Georgiana, she twisted her neck to look back, watching him disappear in the sea of a thousand people and a couple of thousand faces. Cursing herself when she found his lips ripping into a slight smirk. He knew how easy it was for him to get get under her skin and she hated it.

"—and I grabbed some idiot's hand and when I looked back to ask why the fuck did your hand feel so rough, that weird fratboy-looking blondie smiled at me like bro, you're so not my type! Six damn feet away, also," her scowl deepened, "What the fuck?"

"Relax Gigi," she almost cringed, grabbing a flute of champagne with shaky hands, "You're not the only one already regretting this."

Georgiana allowed a silent sigh to slip through her shimmering lips before reaching up to adjust the broad straps of her Zara silver sequin crop top that glittered even in the dim lights. She had paired it with her black Versace jeans, and Valentino silver heels, slightly complimenting Sahar's fit.