Chapter 7

The faint pink of her lower lip was marred by a deep bite mark—pretty hard to miss. People around her started trading looks, eyes shifting with all sorts of thoughts bubbling underneath. The mood in the room dropped a few degrees. Some folks recognized Charisse, and plenty knew about her connection to Owen. In their eyes, someone impulsive and hot-headed like Owen was way more likely to bite his girlfriend during a makeout session than the always-composed Clayton. So, was Elliot throwing shade at his future aunt just to embarrass her? Charisse's heart gave a small thud. She knew full well: if she handled this wrong and made Clayton lose face, it wouldn't end well for her. "Oh yeah?" Clayton tilted her face up by the chin. "Let me take a look." He said it with a smile, but there was a silent chill lurking in his gaze—the kind that came naturally from someone who'd spent years calling the shots. Color rushed to Charisse's cheeks. She playfully smacked his chest and muttered under her breath with a pout, "You're the one to talk." Just a few soft-spoken words, paired with that shy look of hers, made everything crystal clear. No guessing needed—everyone immediately caught on to who was responsible for that mark. The tension in the room dissolved in a heartbeat. Laughter rippled through the crowd. Seeing Clayton chuckle too, Charisse knew he was pleased with her response. She turned to Elliot with a polite smile, "So, do I need to report our private matters to you in detail, Mr. Grant?" His cool gaze slid over her face, picking up on her subtle challenge. He gave a dry laugh. "No need." This was Clayton's party, and Charisse had no choice but to stick close to him while wave after wave of people came up to toast. Thankfully, with someone like Clayton, drinking wasn't mandatory. Lots toasted him out of courtesy, but he only actually drank from a select few. Naturally, no one dared push Charisse to drink either. Still, plenty of people noticed the mark on her lip and couldn't help but think—this young woman might look sweet, but clearly she's got moves. Even someone as calm and controlled as Clayton lost his cool. Others were more blunt: Clayton must really like her if he's willing to go public with their engagement like that. Whatever strategy she used, it worked damn well. Soon, the judgmental glances softened into ones of admiration or even flattery. The vibe shifted. "Come on, have a drink with Elliot," Clayton said to Charisse, the words casual but meaningful. "He's one of the best from the younger generation in our family." Charisse smiled politely, raising two glasses and offering one to Elliot. "I can tell. Mr. Grant definitely stands out." She added with flawless poise, "Here's to you."She leaned half against Clayton, lips curved in a bright, radiant smile like she was genuinely having the time of her life. What was she so cheerful about, huh? Feeling smug 'cause she landed someone like Clayton? Elliot swept a lazy glance at Clayton's hand resting on her waist. Then his long fingers flicked, brushing away Charisse's hand. Her wine glass tumbled from her grasp and crashed to the floor, a crisp shatter slicing through the noise—but still not as cold as his voice. "Toasting me? You're not there yet. Save it for when you actually marry Clayton." The crowd around them collectively held their breath. Really, Elliot didn't bother to save her any face—first the stunt with mentioning that bite mark, now knocking her glass? Dude clearly couldn't stand the soon-to-be aunt. Everyone was silently cringing for Charisse. If they were her, they'd be looking for the nearest escape hatch. But she? Not even a twitch of embarrassment. That poised, perfectly appropriate smile stayed locked on her face like nothing had happened. She downed the rest of her wine without missing a beat, graceful as ever. "I'll make sure you're not kept waiting too long, Mr. Grant," she said with a lift of her brows. Then she gave a light nod, her tone cool but confident. "When that day comes, I trust you'll know how to show a little courtesy to me, your new aunt." Elliot narrowed his eyes at her. A low chuckle slipped out, deep and unreadable. "Sure," he said slowly, "just hope you've got what it takes to last till that point." "I'll make sure of it." Her chin stayed high, neck straight like a swan—elegant and unshaken. With that, Elliot left, disappearing into the crowd. Clayton was soon pulled away by someone, leaving Charisse alone. She didn't know anyone else here. So she quietly picked a quieter corner and walked over to sit down. Not far away, a group of women were chatting—though calling it gossip would be more accurate. Charisse didn't need to listen in to know what they were saying. You could guess with your eyes closed—it definitely wasn't good. "Looks like that Elliot guy wants nothing to do with his new aunt-to-be." "Can you blame him? She's so young hooking up with someone like Clayton—it's gotta be for the money, right? With women like that digging for her uncle's cash, why would Elliot be nice to her?" "Still, he's the junior here. If Clayton's set on marrying her, Elliot being rude won't change much. Nephew or not, he doesn't get a vote." "What about Victoria Davis though? She acts like she's already Mrs. Ellis. Didn't she just deal with that wannabe influencer around Clayton last month? Word is, the body they fished out of the river yesterday? That was her handiwork. Swollen beyond recognition." "Shhh—don't talk about that here, that's creepy." "So... how long till Victoria decides to come after this new girl?" "My guess? She already knows and is probably on her way here as we speak."