The Heiress's Wrath

I didn't need to turn around to recognize that voice. Adrian Valois stood behind me, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the boutique. The manager's face had gone from smug superiority to pure terror in seconds.

"Mr. Valois," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

I was still processing Adrian's unexpected appearance when Camille pushed through the crowd that had formed, her face twisted with anger.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, looking between me and the now-trembling saleswoman.

Before I could answer, the saleswoman—whose name tag read "Stella"—attempted damage control.

"Miss Valois! I was just explaining to your... friend... that some items in our store require special handling," she said, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"You called her a prostitute," I said flatly.

Camille's eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously. I'd never seen this expression on her face before—cold fury replacing her usual warmth. It was like watching a switch flip.