"We are so sorry we are late," Angie said when I finally saw her and Stacy walk in hand in hand, already holding champagnes.
"You guys are always late," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Yeah, Angie always makes us late," Stacy said, and Angie glared at her.
"It was just this one time, and everyone blames it on poor Angela," she said.
"Why are you late anyway? You know how Mia feels about tardiness to her events," I said.
"Five minutes before my shift was over, Mr. Johnson decided that it was time to have a heart attack mid coitus with Mrs. Stewart," Angie explained, and Stacy and I looked confused but still nodded our heads in understanding.
Angie works as a nurse in one of the biggest nursing homes in the city; she hated her job, and she is always complaining about something. Mia worked as a CEO of her family's jewelry store after her dad retired, and Stacy...let's just say she is still trying to figure out her passion in life.
"Who is Mrs. Stewart?" Stacy asked.
"Mr. Johnson's best friend's wife," Angie explained, and we both gasped in awe.
"That's so messy," Stacy and I said in unison, giggling.
"It's annoying, and now I would have to do a full report on it tomorrow," Angie said, taking a huge gulp of her wine.
"If it weren't for the nightingale's oat, I would have stabbed them both to death," Angie said.
"Why do you still work there? You absolutely hate your job," Stacy said.
"I don't hate my job..." Angie said, and Stacy placed her hand on her shoulder, looking down at her.
"I am gonna hold your hand when I say this, babes: you do hate your job a lot more than the average person," Stacy said, and Angie shrugged her hand off.
"Just because I complain about it..."
"A lot. You complain about it a lot," Stacy chirped in, and Angie rolled her eyes, glaring at her.
"As I was saying, just because I complain about it doesn't mean I hate it," Angie said.
"Mhmm," we both hummed sarcastically in response.
"Okay, I don't owe you guys any explanation, so enough with the interrogation," Angie said, her voice firm and annoyed, meaning it was time to drop it.
"Where is Mia anyway?" Stacy said, changing the topic.
"I just saw her briefly before Damien came and 'stole' her away," I replied.
"Aww, they are so cute," Stacy gushed.
"I don't know how in the world Damien got the tickets for this place," I said, and Angie looked at me incredulously.
"That wouldn't have been a problem since he is part owner of this place," Angela said, and I widened my eyes in shock; Stacy had the same expression.
"No way," I said.
"There were at first four old money families whose ancestors built the place: Rockefeller, Astor, Vanderbilt, and Dupont. The Castillo family is the first generation of new money to join them in running the place; there were some rumors about blackmail being involved," Angie explained, and my lips turned downward.
"Interesting," I said, sipping my wine.
"I am surprised you didn't know this, considering your line of work," Angie said, looking at me pointedly, and all I could do was shrug.
I lost interest in Damien the moment he started dating my friend. I didn't want to know about him; I didn't want to be involved with him at all. Mia had a little bit of a jealousy issue I had noticed over the years; I didn't want drama.
At first, rather, I was already being sucked into him. How would I be able to stay away from him when he is my client now and he has my assassin's weapon?
It was like there was an invisible force pulling him towards me when I clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
The light suddenly went off. For a second, I thought I fainted, and I blinked my eyes continuously, the murmurs around me increasing.
"What's going on?" Stacy whispered behind me.
"Must be a power outage or something, but that's odd," Angie said, shifting closer to me.
The moment her champagne touched my arm, I was taken back to that night of my assassination. The cold blade against my skin, blood trickling down my body, soaking my clothes.
The disembodied voice played in my head, and I stumbled backward, bumping into Stacy, who noticed my staggering movements and placed a hand on my back, steadying me.
"Are you okay?" she asked in a whisper, but before I could respond, the lights of the topmost floor turned on, revealing the last thing I expected to see tonight.
Damien on one knee, a red box with a diamond ring in hand in front of Mia. The crowd gasped; I gasped, Stacy gasped—we all gasped.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Camilla. Will you marry me?" he said, or rather we assumed that's what he said; we could only see his mouth move.
Mia nodded rapidly, squealing and throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, and everyone started cheering and clapping.
My mouth hung open as I looked between Angie and Stacy, who were also cheering and clapping as well.
So, I joined in, clapping my hands together as loudly as I could, his words playing in my head:
"By total confidentiality, it also includes Mia Jess. I want you to keep your mouth shut about it the way I kept my mouth shut about your little 'death' experience."
Something definitely didn't add up, and I wasn't happy. I was supposed to be happy for my friend, but here I was, questioning everything while she was being proposed to.
I pushed the negative thoughts out of my mind as we continued to cheer. When I looked at Mia, she looked genuinely happy, but when I looked at Damien, I couldn't tell what he was feeling.
One thing was for sure: he was definitely keeping secrets from Mia and then proceeded to propose to her, not to mention the fact that he was dragging me along with his lies.
I needed to find out his reasons, and I needed to do that fast.
"This is by far one of the grandest proposals of our century," a woman said beside me, her friend humming in agreement.