Chapter 275

"Julian, why are you kicking me!" Sebastian Holloway exclaimed.

The air grew thick with tension again. Sophia Montgomery rose to her feet, her voice steady. "Yes, I'm here... to serve you."

She didn’t dare look at Ethan Blackwood’s face, but she could see the storm in his eyes reflected in Ava Sinclair’s smug expression.

Ava let out a tinkling laugh, like wind chimes in a hurricane. "Well, whoever you're here to serve, you still have to drink the thirty glasses Mr. Blackwood was punished with today."

Her smile sharpened. "Once you're drunk, won't you be even more... entertaining? Isn't that what hostesses like you are best at? Drinking, flirting—then taking men home afterward?"

She reached for the wine bottle, determined to drown Sophia in alcohol.

Tonight, she would humiliate this woman into oblivion.

But just as her fingers closed around the glass, Ethan’s voice cut through the room like ice. "Ava, was it?"

Ava’s face lit up. "Mr. Blackwood, you remembered my name—"

"Movie star?" he interrupted.

She preened. "Yes! I just won an international award—well, a minor one, but still prestigious."

Ava was nothing if not opportunistic.

She had clawed her way to fame by seizing every chance, and tonight was no different. "Mr. Blackwood, if you ever need anything—films, endorsements—I’m your woman. Directors always say I become my roles. Whatever you need, I can deliver."

Ethan tilted his head slightly. "So you’re good at acting?"

"Absolutely." Ava beamed, sliding closer—only for Sophia to flinch and cover her nose.

Ethan’s gaze snapped to her. "What’s wrong with you?"

Sophia kept her head low. "Nothing."

"Speak." His command brooked no argument.

She was his, bound by contract. She had no choice.

"The perfume," she admitted quietly. "It’s too strong for me."

Ava’s smile twisted. "Excuse me? This is exclusive French perfume! A lowly hostess like you wouldn’t even recognize it!"

Ethan didn’t blink. "Move to the far end of the table."

Ava froze. "What?"

He didn’t repeat himself.

"You said you’re a great actress," he mused. "Then act like a hostess. Drink the thirty glasses."

Ava’s face paled. "Mr. Blackwood, you can’t be serious—"

"You’re here as a hostess. So hostess." His tone left no room for debate.

Tears welled in Ava’s eyes. "I’m not a hostess! I came with Daniel—"

"Daniel Whitmore’s wife is Julian’s cousin," Ethan countered. "So why are you here?"

Ava’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"A hostess is a hostess. Stop pretending otherwise."

Sophia, unable to bear the cloying scent any longer, pressed a hand to her nose again.

Ava’s temper snapped. "You bitch! You’ll never afford perfume like mine in your lifetime!"

Sophia met her glare evenly. "Miss Sinclair, I am a hostess. You don’t need to remind me. But whether you drink or not is between you and Mr. Blackwood."

She took a slow breath. "You made me carry your shoes earlier. Now you’re insulting me in front of everyone. I’ve never even met you. Why are you so fixated on me?"

Ava’s hand twitched—she wanted to slap that calm right off Sophia’s face.

But Ethan’s voice froze her in place. "You made her carry your shoes?"

Ava swallowed hard.

"Sixty glasses."

Her stomach dropped. "Mr. Blackwood, that much will destroy my liver—"

"Ninety."

The room went dead silent.

Only Julian Montgomery remained unfazed. Beside him, Natalie Montgomery handed Sophia a bottle of water with a kind smile. "This might help with the smell."

Sophia nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

Daniel Whitmore, pale, opened his mouth to intervene—but Julian cut him off. "Cousin, why did you bring her?"

Daniel shut his mouth.

Ava finally realized she’d stepped into a trap. But what had she done wrong? Made a hostess carry shoes? Said what everyone was thinking?

She forced a laugh, batting her lashes at Ethan. "Mr. Blackwood, I’m new to these events. If I’ve offended you, just tell me how to make it right—"

Ethan didn’t even look at her.

He was watching Sophia.

And that terrified Ava more than anything.