Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 14: Celebratory Mood

They were talking about her.

Gianna knew it—knew from the bellyful laughter exploding out of Sandro that Zane had mentioned her.

The sound had carried across the club, even over the music, even over the chatter and clinking glasses.

Heat crawled up her neck. Was it about the one-night stand... or the package he had sent this morning?

She clamped her lips tight, her jaw flexing. That fool. That dolt. That birdbrain. That—

"Gianna, what are you thinking about? You look like you want to murder someone." Areso’s voice cut in, mild and lazy, her eyes watching Gianna over the rim of her drink.

Oh, she wanted to murder someone quite all right. Gianna concluded inwardly, twirling the cup in her fingers.

Just a quick bash on the head. Maybe, a quick shove. A small, satisfying scream. Perfect.

But in the next second, she forced the rage away, letting it swim back to whatever dark pit it had crawled from.

What was the need of bothering herself over a dimwit? Added stress—unnecessary, useless.

"Don’t mind me, Ari. I’m fine. I’m just thinking of the designs to create..."

Chelsea snorted, not buying the lie for a second. "You want to murder your tools... or maybe your new boss?"

Gianna glared at her, but the brunette only laughed harder.

"Talking about new boss..." Chelsea added, leaning forward with a wicked grin. "Congratulations once again, girllll! I think Athena has influenced us all."

The trio burst into laughter, clinking glasses, their minds filled with the image of the daredevil herself—the fearless, unstoppable Athena.

"But really," Areso continued, "you demanded all that? Sheesh. Wait till Athena hears."

Gianna smiled into her cup, drinking a little more. Oh, Athena would be surprised—then she would fawn over Gianna like a proud mother hen.

And honestly? Gianna was proud of herself. Nothing and no one was going to dampen her celebratory mood tonight.

"Should we go over and say hi? I’m sure they know we’re here," Areso suddenly suggested.

And Gianna’s celebratory mood wavered on the edge of oblivion.

Areso blinked when both her friends turned sharp glares on her.

"What?!" She lifted her hands in surrender. "You know it’s high time you both talked about your past—talked about what those men did to you."

"I have no problem with Sandro," Gianna said.

"I have no problem with Zane," Chelsea echoed.

Areso rolled her eyes dramatically. "First it was Ewan and Athena... now these two..." She took another casual sip of wine. "I can’t wait for the drama to unfold."

Chelsea scoffed. "Drama? Dream on! And what about you and Dario? When are we having a set date?"

Areso blushed pink.

Gianna chuckled. Did her friend really think she could throw jabs and escape unscathed?

"Have you both done it? Wrestled with the sheets?" She teased.

Areso’s cheeks deepened to red—bright, guilty red.

"Oh my god... is he good?" Chelsea joined in.

Areso choked on air, waving her hands weakly. "Stop, you two! You’re just trying to change the topic."

But it was two against one. Victory was already written in stone.

"Well... he..." Areso’s throat locked. "He is good."

Chelsea and Gianna high-fived triumphantly.

"So you two are dating now?" Gianna asked.

Areso shook her head, trying to shake off both the jitters and the embarrassment. "Not really. We’re taking things slow."

Gianna and Chelsea exchanged a look—one of those exaggerated sage-nods that meant we have no idea what that means, but okay.

Before they could question it, however, a server approached their table and placed a bottle of champagne between them.

"Courtesy of the male over there."

All three women turned.

Sandro lifted a cup to them—or rather, to Gianna and Areso. His gaze did not stray to a very unimpressed Chelsea.

Zane, however...

He looked resigned, like he had violently objected to the champagne idea. Elbow on the table, palm pressing against his forehead, shoulders tense. He wasn’t even facing them fully.

Gianna’s lips twitched. She wasn’t sure whether to cuss at Sandro for whatever implication this gift carried... or toast him back.

Areso chose for all of them. Smiling like a delighted gazelle, she lifted her cup and toasted the air.

Gianna managed a strained smile. She had nothing against Sandro, truly... but now she felt like bashing his head in. Just a little. One small concussion.

"Sandro is a good man," Areso muttered.

Chelsea shot her a glare.

Areso instantly shook her head—hard. "But he is very stupid."

Gianna chuckled. Sandro was indeed respectable—Athena wouldn’t keep him close otherwise. But then, girls before... was it manwhores or just men?

Gianna gave up trying to categorize the species.

She stretched her cup as Areso poured champagne for her. Chelsea, of course, didn’t drink.

The champagne was nice. Gianna thought of her new job, the one she would begin tomorrow. Excitement fluttered through her. She was curious about what awaited her, curious about the next Chapter of her career.

She smiled thinking about Nathaniel asking earlier if he should investigate the company. Those genius children of Athena—they couldn’t help themselves.

She had told him no, of course. She didn’t want to find anything unsavory. No company was perfect. She wanted nothing to taint her joy.

Old Mr. Thorne had been wary too—but she chalked it up to fatherly concern. Especially since the company was a rival of Zane, who was like a son to him.

But he had congratulated her. She could tell he meant it.

Everyone was glad for her. And she was glad for herself. She had crossed the first stumbling block.

Now the designs...

She needed to redraw everything Sabrina had torn. Maybe tweak it... improve it... reshape it...

She nodded to herself, already drifting into the world of sketches and gemstones, unaware that her two friends were watching her face melt into that familiar creative trance.

"She brought us here, now she’s left us," Chelsea complained playfully. "Let’s go dance."

The last sentence snapped Gianna out of her thoughts.

She apologized with a laugh, rising with them. She couldn’t be caught dulling, It was her celebratory night out.

—

The music hit her first—heavy bass, sharp beats, lights flickering across bodies moving in rhythm. Chelsea twirled first, Areso followed, and Gianna let herself be pulled in, laughter bubbling up as they let themselves loose.

Her red gown moving with her, Gianna felt free. Warm. Alive.

Then a man approached—handsome, definitely handsome. Tall, with smooth caramel skin, dark eyes, sleeves rolled to reveal sculpted forearms, and a smile that promised trouble wrapped in charm.

He offered his hand with a smile. "May I have a dance with you, goddess?"

Gianna considered the request. A one-night stand was off the table of course—she was with friends, and she had already made that mistake this week. But a dance? A little fun?

Why not.

She let him pull her closer, his hand settling respectfully at her waist as they moved together. He smelled expensive—cologne with warm spice—and he danced with trained ease, guiding her into spins and dips that melted tension from her shoulders.

She was smiling—real, bright, unguarded...

When her eyes caught a movement at the club’s exit.

Zane. Leaving with his hand wrapped around some woman’s waist.

Gianna scoffed inwardly. Typical.

Without losing her smile and exuberance, she turned back to the handsome stranger. She let him spin her again, laughing carefreely, when he muttered sweetness to her ears.

It was her night really. And she would enjoy every second of it.