Chapter 69 Surprise!

Chapter 69 Surprise!
LAURA'S POV:

"He's gone for good." Gwen said from the couch, smiling from ear to ear.

I held a teacup to my lips while blowing on my pinkie, but my full attention fixed on her. "Who's gone for good?"

"Jaxon Fallon."

My hands froze mid-air. My heart leaped to my throat and stayed there.

I lowered the teacup. "Where has he gone now?"

Gwen bolted up from the couch and darted towards me, waving her phone—her smile widening with each step. "Hush! Hush, look at this." She shoved her phone in my face.

The headlines in bold letters snapped back at me from the screen.

Jaxon Fallon: Love wheels drives East.

I would rather not click at all.

I looked up at Gwen with a frown that cut straight through her grin. "What's up with you?"

"I guess he also has the best PR people to cover his mess." I snorted, returning her phone and picking back my teacup. My fingers weren't entirely steady.

"You know this is also good in a way. He wouldn't be troubling you for a very long time," Gwen said, perching herself on the white couch opposite me.

I took a slow sip and nodded. "That's right. Maybe I'm just overreacting, Gwen—but that's also fine because I hate him."

"I know."

We both broke into laughter. It was a mutual something, the hate. The weight that had been on my chest all along eased just enough for me to breathe, but not enough to let my guard down.

"You know I'm thinking of the best way to celebrate this," Gwen breathed, her smile slipping back on.

I nodded. "Ryan's prepared a busy day for me, though. I don't think I'll be having that leisure."

"Don't make me sue him, alright?" Gwen threatened. I rolled my eyes. She declared possessively, "I'm taking you out tonight."

The way she said it made it sound like a favor. I wanted to refuse. A cold thread coiled in my stomach. But Gwen's eyes had already made the decision, and I didn't have the fight in me. Not tonight. I nodded. "I'll let Ryan know."

"You do that," she snapped. I smiled and reached for my phone.

Barely thirty minutes later, Gwen sashayed into my bedroom, hips swaying, gold bracelets tinkling. She stopped at the dressing table and dropped her purse before turning on me. "What do you think of this top? Does it make my boobs pass for at least a B cup?"

"Yes, they look superb. What's with you and your obsession with your boobs?"

She sighed dramatically. "Not all of us are blessed with huge, round tits like yours, so stop being a bitch about it." She wagged a finger at me. "Mine are more like mosquito bites, so I'll talk about them all I want."

I rolled my eyes, turning back to my phone—but she snatched my smoothie from the bedside table, triumphant. "That's not for you, Gwen."

She'd already taken a sip. She shivered in disgust. "Ugh, I know this is healthy and all, but I swear this smoothie could have been so much better without the extra roots and dirt. Is it supposed to taste like shit that's been sitting on the lawn for ten days?"

I winced when she took another sip, looking green. "Maybe you'll start mooing in a minute."

Her eyes narrowed. "What's up with you? You've been moping around like you just swallowed the wrong d^ck."

"Can you talk clean more often."

"I don't remember the last time I fucking talked dirty. Anyway, why are you not dressed up already?"

I sighed.

"Don't be an asshole, Laura."

"Can we not talk about body parts, please," I said, rolling off the bed.

"Just get into something and we wouldn't."

I chuckled—dry, hollow—and marched into my dressing room. I chose quickly. Nothing that screamed for cameras. Not tonight.

Minutes later we were on our way. Going to a party with Gwen was really something else. The last time we had done that together had ended on a terrible note for me, so this time I brought Hermes along, just to be on the safe side—the Jaxon-and-Vixen scandal had eyes following me everywhere, and someone needed to ensure my safety.

We stepped out of the car into a wall of camera flashes and shouted names. Hermes' hand found my elbow, steering me past the velvet rope where a man with a tablet barely glanced up before nodding us through. Inside, a server glided by with a tray of champagne flutes. Someone laughed—a practiced, camera-ready sound. I caught a famous profile in my peripheral vision and looked away before they could catch me looking.

Gwen's eyes sparkled. "Damn, I'm going to get a drink, Laura. You coming along?"

I nodded. "Sure." My voice came out tighter than I intended. She grinned, grateful, and blew me a kiss as we cut through clusters of beautiful people holding their glasses like props.

We had to search the kitchen—or what passed for one in this place, all marble and mood lighting—for a drink. The fridge was nearly empty, stocked with bottles of champagne I didn't trust, along with one small bottle of orange juice sitting alone on the shelf as if it had been waiting for me.

I had no intention of getting drunk at any goddamned party. I needed my head clear.

Stepping back into the main room, the sharp echo of a microphone stabbed my ears.

The crowd—celebrities, moguls, people who never cheered for anything—erupted. Then the word boomed through the speakers: "VIXEN."

The cheers doubled.

Gwen turned to me, smiling like she'd orchestrated a surprise I should be grateful for.

My eyes sought hers, my pulse a violent drum in my throat. "What did you do?"

She yelled back over the noise, her eyes bright with something I couldn't name. "I told a few friends I was bringing Vixen to their home."

My breath caught. This was too much. This love. Oh, fuck Gwen.

A spotlight, hot and white, sliced through the dim room and pinned me in place. Phones lifted—not drunk fans' phones, but iPhones held by people with millions of followers. Hermes moved, but the crowd was too thick.

"They want you to sing a song for them," Gwen said.

I couldn't move.