I'd Like To See You Try
ARIANA’S POV
I didn’t realize I was still gripping my champagne glass until Hardin gently pried it from my fingers.
“You good?” he asked, his voice low against the backdrop of clinking glasses and the next song the DJ spun into the air.
I nodded, but my jaw ached from how tightly I was clenching it. “I just need to freshen up.”
His eyes searched mine for a beat, lingering like he knew I was lying. Which I was. But only partially. I did need a moment. Just not for lip gloss.
He glanced around, then spotted a server passing with an empty tray. “Excuse me,” he said, then turned to the girl—blonde, maybe mid-twenties, clearly starstruck by him. “Can you show my girlfriend where the restroom is?”
Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded, eyes darting briefly to me. “Of course, sir. Miss, this way.”
I followed her across the ballroom, heels muffled on the thick carpet. The party roared behind me—voices, laughter, the beat of music—but it all faded to a hum as I stepped into the marble corridor and then into the pristine restroom.
Cool air greeted me, a soft contrast to the heat burning beneath my skin. I locked myself into the first stall and sat for a moment longer than necessary, grounding myself.
When I finally stood, I took my time at the mirror. My lipstick hadn’t faded, but I reapplied anyway—slow strokes, deliberate, controlled. I stared at myself, saw the flicker of rage behind the mask of poise, and inhaled.
Then the door creaked open behind me.
I knew it was her before I even turned.
She moved like smoke—slow, invasive. And she didn’t belong here.
My eyes met hers in the mirror.
Beatrice.
She smiled like we were meeting for coffee and not standing on opposite sides of a battlefield.
“You know,” she said lightly, leaning against the marble countertop like she had every right to exist in this moment with me, “you don’t have to pretend I’m not here.”
“I’m not pretending,” I replied, smacking my lips together. “I’m just hoping you’ll vanish if I ignore you long enough.”
She gave a breathy little laugh. “Feisty. I suppose that’s what he likes about you.”
I turned then, facing her fully.
“What do you want, Beatrice?”
She pushed off the counter and took a slow step forward. “I wanted to ask you something.”
I raised a brow. “You tracked me to a bathroom for a chat?”
She shrugged, eyes trailing lazily down my body. “Do you think you’re special?”
I blinked once, then laughed—sharp and cold. “Sweetheart, I know I am. You, on the other hand? You’re just… persistent.”
Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Persistent? Cute. You’re very confident for someone on borrowed time.”
“Borrowed time?” I repeated, tilting my head. “You’re the one trying to copy and paste my life. My dress. My man.”
That hit.
Her nostrils flared slightly.
I leaned against the sink beside her, folding my arms. “Tell me, Beatrice. Remind me again—weren’t you the one who mentioned a fiance the last time we spoke? What happened to him?”
“I didn’t lie,” she said with a sweet smile. “My fiance is Hardin.”
The words dropped between us like a grenade.
I stared at her for a moment, blinking slowly, lips curving into a grin I didn’t feel. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” Her voice was calm, too calm. “And whether you like it or not… he belongs to me.”
I laughed again, deep and rich this time. “Honey, if that lie is what you need to sleep at night, I hope it keeps you warm. Because Hardin? He’s not yours. Not even a little bit.”
She stepped closer, her perfume cloying and expensive. “You really think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”
“No,” I said softly. “But I am unforgettable. There’s a difference.”
Her jaw clenched. Her manicured fingers curled at her sides.
I pushed off the sink, closing the distance between us until we were toe to toe. “You want to play games, Beatrice? Fine. But just remember—this isn’t a rom-com where the ex-fiancée wins back the brooding billionaire. This is real life. And in real life?” I smiled sweetly. “He chooses me. Every time.”
“Not if I tell the truth,” she whispered.
My smile didn’t waver. “Truth? Try it. I dare you. But know this—Hardin hates liars. And you? You reek of desperation and deception.”
She said nothing.
I turned away, brushing past her as I walked toward the door. But just before I opened it, I glanced back over my shoulder.
“I’d like to see you try, Beatrice.”
Then I stepped out.
My pulse was a war drum beneath my skin, but I didn’t let it show. I walked back into that glittering room like I owned it.
Because tonight?
I did.
And Beatrice knew it.
She just wouldn’t accept it.
Yet.
***
I found Hardin by the bar, talking to a few business partners, but the second he saw me, his focus shifted entirely. He excused himself, his hand finding my waist like it belonged there. Because it did.
“You good?” he asked again, concern flickering in those stormy eyes.
“I’m great,” I said, lips curling.
He studied me for a moment, then frowned slightly. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
I didn’t deny it. “She followed me into the restroom.”
He swore under his breath, jaw tight. “What did she say?”
“That you’re her fiance,” I said simply.
He froze.
“She what?”
“She said you’re her fiance, and that whether I like it or not, you belong to her.”
His eyes darkened. “That bitch.”
“I handled it,” I said, sipping from the fresh glass of champagne he handed me.
“I should have had security throw her out the moment she walked in.”
“No,” I said, voice velvet and steel. “Not yet. Let her hang herself with her own rope. She’s dying to be seen as relevant. Let her perform.”
He stared at me like he was seeing something new. Something dangerous. “You’re ruthless.”
I smirked. “Only when provoked.”
He leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “God, I love you.”
My breath caught. Just a little.
Then he kissed me—soft, slow, deliberate. Not for the cameras. Not for the crowd.
For me.
When we pulled apart, I saw it.
Beatrice. On the far side of the room. Watching us with venom in her gaze.
His mother beside her, whispering something that made Beatrice’s lips press into a thin line.
They were planning something.
I could see it. Smell it.
But they were too late.
The storm was already here.
And I wasn’t the girl to stand in the rain.
I was the thunder.
And they had no idea what was coming.
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