Maya's POV
The cool evening air on the veranda wasn't enough to calm my burning cheeks. I was still replaying the mortifying moment when the cork crumbled in my hands, wine splashing everywhere like some cruel comedy. The humiliation felt fresh and raw.
"What an absolutely mortifying display," came a voice that made my stomach drop.
Valentina stepped out of the shadows, her silhouette perfectly outlined against the warm light spilling from the ballroom. She looked every inch the sophisticated socialite in her burgundy dress, her dark hair swept into an elegant chignon that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass.
"Destroying a 1985 Brunello di Montalcino?" she continued, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "That bottle was worth more than most people make in months. But then again, how would you know?"
I straightened my spine, refusing to let her see how deeply her words cut. "It was an accident. The cork was compromised."
