Chapter 68 Sweetness with fangs
Deborah froze for a split second, her fingers still brushing through the heels on the rack. She forced herself to blink, to turn, to breathe as if the sudden voice behind her didn’t twist something sharp inside her chest.
There she was. The same girl from last night.
Up close, she looked even more perfect than Deborah remembered, glossy lips, soft waves of chocolate-brown hair, eyes that sparkled with a dangerous kind of innocence. She smiled like they were old friends, like she wasn’t the girl who had kissed Luther without hesitation.
Deborah straightened her posture, smoothing the gown’s skirt as she offered a polite, controlled smile.
“Y-yes,” she replied, tone steady. “I’m... Deborah.”
“Oh good!” the girl chirped, stepping closer, far too comfortable. “I was hoping it was really you. I’m Alaina.”
Deborah nodded quietly, though her stomach tightened. Alaina… so now she had a name to the irritation. But she kept her expression soft, professional, neutral.... a careful mask she’d learned to use so well.
Alaina clasped her hands together, leaning in slightly as if sharing some harmless secret. “I’m really glad I ran into you! Last night was… crazy, wasn’t it?”
Deborah smiled lightly. “It was definitely busy.”
“Oh, totally,” Alaina said, her laugh airy and sweet, too sweet, like sugar trying to hide the taste of poison. “Especially for Luther. He was everywhere.”
Deborah didn’t answer. She simply turned her attention back to another set of heels and gowns, pretending to check the fabric while she discreetly observed Alaina.
But Alaina wasn’t done. She tilted her head, studying Deborah the way someone studies a rival without admitting it. “Luther told me a lot about you.”
Deborah’s fingers paused. Her heart didn’t drop, it steadied, as if bracing for a punch she already expected.
“Oh?” she replied calmly. “And what exactly did he say?”
Alaina giggled softly. “Oh, you know… things.”
Deborah raised a brow but kept her face unreadable. “Such as?”
Alaina shrugged with an exaggerated innocence, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You two must be… close, huh? But.....that's very impossible for the rivals....”
There it was. The first claw.
Deborah met her gaze head-on. “We’re family friends.....before,” she said smoothly. “We’ve known each other for years.”
“Right,” Alaina said, stretching the word as if she didn’t believe it. She drifted to another rack, running her fingers along the gowns, but her eyes stayed on Deborah like she was savoring the tension.
Deborah followed, inspecting a black velvet dress while pretending not to notice.
Then Alaina spoke again, too casually to be accidental.
“He slept late last night after the event.”
Deborah’s jaw tightened for half a second, subtle, barely visible but Alaina saw it. She wanted her to.
“Oh?” Deborah said, tone cool. “Were you with him the whole time?”
Alaina’s smile curved slowly. “No. Just long enough.”
Deborah inhaled deeply, grounding herself.
She reminded herself she was in a boutique. That she had class. That she would not play a childish jealousy game with someone who clearly thrived on attention.
Still, her voice came out firmer, steadier. “Well, Luther often sleeps late. He works too much.”
“Mmm,” Alaina hummed, pretending to think. “He mentioned you were… close. I guess that’s why he cares what you think.”
Deborah froze again. Not because she was hurt.
But because the sentence was strategic.
Every word was a test. Every smile was a weapon.
Deborah stepped closer, closing the distance not in challenge, but in absolute poise.
“Alaina,” she said softly, “do you always ask this many questions about people you barely know?”
Alaina blinked, caught, but still pushing. “Well, I like understanding the people in Luther’s life. It helps, you know?”
“With what?” Deborah asked.
Alaina smiled wider. “With… things.”
Deborah wanted to laugh not because it was funny, but because the girl was digging a grave and lining it with pink ribbons.
Before Deborah could respond, the boutique’s glass door chimed.
And the air changed instantly. Footsteps. Heavy, steady, familiar.
Deborah didn’t turn. She didn’t have to.
She could feel them. The boys.
Luther at the front, followed by Caelum, Lysander, Lucio, and the others... each one moving with a confidence that drew eyes the moment they entered any room.
Their voices drifted in, low and warm, discussing the event preparations.
But then... a pause.
The kind of silence that comes when someone notices something they weren’t expecting. Deborah exhaled slowly, her gaze steady on Alaina.
Because she knew.
She knew the boys had seen her expression. They saw the tension in her eyes.
They saw Alaina standing too close. And they were approaching.
Deliberate. Protective. Unmistakably aware.
Deborah didn’t turn, but she felt the shift in the air when they reached her strong presences closing in like a shield.
And Alaina? Her sweet smile faltered. Just slightly.
“Deborah…”
It was Lucio. His tone was calm, but laced with unmistakable curiosity and caution. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto the girl who had been standing too close, smiling too sweetly.
Deborah’s chest tightened. She kept her lips pressed together, maintaining a mask of calm. She would not give him a reaction; she could not.
Lucio’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head just enough to study Alaina without breaking decorum. “Who is she?”
The words were quiet, but in the charged atmosphere of the boutique, they landed like a hammer. Alaina’s smile faltered completely now, subtle lines of uncertainty appearing around her perfect features.
Deborah’s mind raced, weighing her response. She kept her posture firm, shoulders squared, eyes steady. She could feel the Valmere boys’ collective focus pressing like a shield around her, guarding her from any potential attack.
The tension in the room was palpable, almost electric. The soft clinking of hangers, the gentle rustle of gowns, the faint hum of the air conditioning, all of it receded into the background, leaving only the silent confrontation, the unspoken warnings, and the subtle game of dominance that had begun in earnest.
Deborah’s lips curved into the smallest, almost imperceptible smile, carefully neutral. She didn’t speak, letting the tension build just a fraction longer. Then she spoke......
"She's a friend."