"Bound By The Wrong Brother"

The tarnished brass bell above the diner door clanged, and a wall of freezing air conditioning hit Harper’s face, raising goosebumps on her arms. The air inside smelled aggressively of stale bacon grease and burnt coffee.

Chloe marched quickly down the narrow aisle, keeping her head down, and slid into a cracked, cherry-red vinyl booth by the front window.

Harper slid in opposite her, deliberately positioning herself for a clear, unobstructed view of the entrance and the main walkway.

An exhausted waitress tossed two sticky, laminated menus onto the table and walked away without a word.

Suddenly, the phone inside Harper's bag began to vibrate with a high-pitched, frantic buzz.

She pulled it out. The screen flashed the name of her ultimate rival in the New York social scene: Sloane Vaughn.

Harper clenched her jaw, suppressing a strong urge to throw the phone against the wall.

"Who is it?" Chloe asked, talking around a plastic straw.

"The biggest parasite in Manhattan," Harper muttered.

She pressed the green button, bringing the phone to her ear.

"Harper!" Sloane's shrill, artificially sweet voice pierced her eardrum. Harper pulled the phone an inch away from her head.

"I'm at the polo club in the Hamptons," Sloane bragged loudly. "It's absolutely gorgeous today."

Harper picked up her glass of ice water, gripping it tightly. "Fascinating, Sloane."

"You'll never guess who just bought me a glass of champagne," Sloane purred. "Barrett Petty."

A sharp, physical ache splintered behind Harper's ribs. Her fingers tightened around the glass until her knuckles ached, her throat closing up with sudden, violent jealousy.

She forced herself to take a breath, letting out a light, breathy laugh that sounded perfectly careless. "Barrett always did have a soft spot for charity cases," she mocked.

The line went dead silent for a second. When Sloane spoke again, the fake sweetness was gone, replaced by venom. "Where are you, Harper? Everyone says you got dumped by Sterling and ran away to hide."

Harper realized her mother's social circle was already leaking poison.

She leaned back against the sticky vinyl seat, her mind racing. Her eyes darted over the top of her menu, scanning the back of the diner. The men in black suits had completely taken over the rear section, forming a human wall around the dark corner booth. The towering man was sitting in the deepest shadow, his face still hidden from view.

Harper forced her attention back to the phone. She needed to shut Sloane up, permanently.

She dropped her voice into a low, conspiratorial whisper.