Chapter 18: So What If She’s a Princess

Taylor Lynn's closest girlfriends had shown up—not just to celebrate her birthday, but to mingle with the hotshots and rising stars filling the room. Everyone here was somebody, and the guests were loving it. GAD knew how to throw a party that screamed big league. But the star of the show? She wasn't smiling.

Taylor was waiting for someone—and he hadn't shown. Guys had always buzzed around her like flies, ready to bend over backwards at her slightest whim. Ever since she'd realized her own charm, no man had ever resisted her. And she wasn't some spoiled brat either—grace came naturally to her.

But for the first time ever, she'd been stood up.

After handing Finn that golden invite two weeks ago, she hadn't heard a peep. Nothing. Zero. Two whole weeks of radio silence. Unbelievable! Normally, a flicker of interest from her sent guys scrambling like bees to honey. This time, though? She'd gone out of her way—invited him herself—and he ghosted her. Pride and ego kept her from checking up on him again. She'd planned to give him a piece of her mind at the party, but he'd ditched her!

No excuse. No apology. Nothing.

The more she thought about it, the madder she got. The madder she got, the more it gnawed at her.

"Hey, earth to princess!" A tall figure sauntered over, snapping her out of it. "The party's popping down there, and the hostess is up here moping? That's not how you play the game."

The woman was a knockout—pale red dress hugging a killer figure, curves in all the right places, a slim waist that could stop traffic, and legs that went on forever, capped with stiletto heels. A light touch of makeup made her glow like she was in her prime. Man-killer vibes, no question. Hardly any guy could resist her pull.

"Zoe, you're looking hotter every time I see you," Taylor said with a polished smile, brushing off her funk. "Just lost in thought."

"Oh, really?" Zoe Weaver arched a brow, smirking. "Your hands are white from clenching so hard. Who's got my little sister all riled up? Spill it—I'll straighten him out for you."

Zoe wasn't just anyone. She was a high-ranking officer in USE's Special Ops—a classified badass. Even Taylor didn't know the full scoop. But every time GAD cut a deal with the military, Zoe was there, smooth as silk. Their families went way back.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, too. Even Taylor's dad, Zach, couldn't hide a flicker of interest around her. That kind of radiant allure sparked a primal urge in men—too bad she was untouchable, military brass with deep ties. Most could only drool from a distance.

Taylor couldn't help but admire her. Zoe was perfection, every inch a woman's dream.

To guys, though, Taylor and Zoe were neck-and-neck—different flavors, same league. Their little chat upstairs drew every eye in the room. The young bucks ogled shamelessly; the older crowd snuck glances. Who could blame them?

Taylor wasn't dumb—she knew Zoe wouldn't let it slide. "Zoe, it's nothing. Just a friend who bailed. Probably had something come up."

"Oh, really?" Zoe teased, leaning in. "A guy ditches you? If I were a dude, I'd crawl here on my hands and knees."

"Sis, when did I say it was a guy?" Taylor groaned, already outmatched. Zoe could talk circles around her ten times over.

"Come on, dish!" Zoe grinned, eyes sparkling. "Now I'm hooked."

Taylor didn't dodge it—nothing to hide, really. She just thought Finn stood out. No big deal. Might as well spill it than let Zoe's imagination run wild.

But while Taylor brushed it off, Zoe's ears perked up. Taylor wasn't just some rich kid coasting on GAD's name. Sure, she was smart—plenty of people were. But at her age, diving into the family biz? That took more. Her secret weapon: gut instinct. She had a knack for sizing up people and situations, simple but razor-sharp. Never wrong yet. She didn't flaunt it, but GAD and the military leaned on her calls—almost like a psychic edge.

So an ordinary student catching Taylor's eye, enough for her to hand-deliver an invite? That wasn't random. Either he was a hidden gem—or a walking red flag. Zoe kept her face playful, tossing out a few jabs, but Finn's name stuck in her head like glue.

Monday morning dawned bright and clear, but Finn's brow was furrowed tight. Anyone would crack after a nonstop earful all morning.

"God, Finn, why didn't you tell me?" Mark wailed. "You couldn't go—I'd have taken a bullet for you, bro! A birthday bash like that? I'd have stormed it!"

When Mark heard Taylor Lynn had invited Finn, his jaw hit the floor—then he saw the invite and lost it. A nuke could've gone off, and I'd still have made it! Finn letting that chance slip through his fingers? Insanity. If Finn didn't care about Taylor, fine—but Mark knew better. The guy had been crushing on her forever. What a waste.

"Mark, dude, spare me," Finn groaned, rubbing his temples. "I'm gutted, okay? Super gutted. Happy now? It's gone—no time machine to fix it."

Mark sighed dramatically. "Yeah, true. Tech's so lame. Twenty-third century, and we still don't have time travel? Pathetic."

Finn stared at his daydreaming buddy, speechless. This guy can spin anything into a fantasy. Mark always downplayed Taylor—until now, when his real colors showed.

Finn chuckled, but inside, the regret was faint—just a whisper. Since waking from that insane training sim, he wasn't the same old Finn anymore.

Cliffhanger

Across town, Taylor Lynn sipped her morning coffee, eyes narrowed. Finn's no-show still burned, a splinter she couldn't pull out. Zoe Weaver, meanwhile, flipped through classified files, Finn's name circled in red. Two worlds, oblivious to each other, were about to collide—and Finn didn't have a clue how deep he'd just stepped into the fire.