Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
“Oh, you think that’s bad? Wait till I tell you what this violent bastard actually did-“
She was probably talking to Zane Hasterton. And unlike Daniel, Zane would never raise a hand to her.
The way Ivan so instantly, so fiercely chose me-without hesitation, without question-made my throat tighten. She believed me. No one else did. But she did.
This wasn’t something she did lightly. Daniel’s family sat at the very top of the food chain-untouchable. And I had no doubt her parents wouldn’t be thrilled to see her go up against them.
I curled deeper under the blanket and let out a slow breath.
Why couldn’t my parents love me like that?
Ever since their favorite daughter Houdini’d her way out of their master plan, I became Plan B. But that didn’t mean they forgave my existence.
Let’s be honest: the only reason they’d stopped actively berating me was because I got engaged to Daniel. That little arrangement somehow elevated me from “irreparable family disgrace” to “potential saving grace.”
Part of the reason I agreed to the engagement-and I know how pathetic this sounds-was because I thought maybe I could finally get something Katherine had: a sliver of parental affection. A crumb of approval.
But now that the engagement was off?
I was disposable again.
Last I heard, they were boxing up my things, ready to ship me off to some remote jungle where I’d spend the rest of my life befriending anacondas and repenting for my sins.
They were absolutely capable of that.
I groaned into my pillow. What the hell do I do now?
Unless… I married someone more powerful than Daniel.
The idea was so ridiculous I snorted. Right. Because billionaires are just wandering around Sky City hoping to marry a 23-year-old orphan with no patience for their bullshit.
And yet-
A face flashed in my mind.
Three days ago. My new neighbor.
I remembered, quite inappropriately, thinking I wouldn’t mind being alone with him in his apartment where he could do all sorts of rated-R things to me.
I shook my head, quickly banishing the thought. I didn’t even know his name. Just that he had the kind of aura that could slice a person in half.
No. Way too dangerous.
I groaned again.
If I hadn’t broken that stupid mug, everything might’ve been okay.
But it wasn’t. And it’s not. And there’s no going back.
Fuck! Why am I the one trying to fix this when I wasn’t even the one who messed it up?! I sat up-and bam, the door burst open.
Ivan marched in.
“Sleep is just going to make you feel worse. We’re getting up, and we’re going to find a dick worth loving-one that’s better than Daniel’s.”
WHAT?!
While I gaped, she had already changed me into a new outfit.
Just like that, we were off to Sky City’s most exclusive club-members only.
“Is this really necessary?” I stood at the end of the line, shivering, tugging desperately at the hem of my tragically short skirt. I could practically feel it-if I opened my mouth to speak, my underwear would be on full display.
“Sweetheart, we paid a fortune to get into this place. Of course we’re going all kill. Do you not get it?” Ivanna declared like a mafia queen, standing tall against the icy wind in her five-inch heels without the slightest trace of fear.
“But isn’t this a little too-” I didn’t even get to finish before a brutal gust of wind slapped me across the face like it had a personal vendetta. I immediately yanked up the zipper of my puffer jacket and curled into myself like a frozen shrimp.
Ivanna let out a dramatic groan.
“Elean, come on. We’re going to a bar, not an Arctic expedition.”
“I’m just glad I won’t be hospitalized for hypothermia tonight, thanks,” I snapped back.
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of her head, gave me a once-over full of disappointment-but said nothing more. Small victory. My puffer jacket was safe-for now.
I’d thought we’d have to wait in line like everyone else. That was the whole reason I wore this thermal fortress of a coat. But clearly, I had underestimated Ivanna.
She had zero plans to follow the rules.
With the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times, she slipped a rolled-up bill into the bouncer’s hand, her palm casually grazing his rock-hard chest like a Bond girl who’d forgotten her martini.
Ten seconds. That’s all it took. We were in.
Ivanna was the kind of beautiful that made men forget protocol-and ethics-in an instant.
And just like that, we breezed into Roxanne.
The place was thick with heat, perfume, and the effervescent scent of champagne. I ripped off my coat the second we stepped inside, only to be met with a “are-you-trying-to-embarrass-me?” glare from Ivanna.
She handed her coat off to a passing server with a flick of her fingers, like she’d personally hired the man. Regal, effortless, born for this.
I tried to copy her moves. Failed miserably. Nearly dropped my purse and stumbled like a hamster who’d just woken up from a freezer nap.
Graceful? No. I looked like roadkill in Gucci heels.
If I hadn’t known each cocktail here cost about the same as my checking account balance, I might’ve even convinced myself I was pulling it off.
“Jesus Christ!” I gasped, eyes glued to the menu like it had just insulted my entire bloodline.
Ivanna gave me a sideways glance and scoffed.
“Relax. Tonight’s on me.”
I exhaled with something dangerously close to gratitude. Considering I’d nearly broken off an engagement, risked being exiled to some remote tropical island by my parents, and needed to budget for anti-snake spray, I needed all the charity I could get.
Price tags aside, the view was elite: ambitious young actors, outrageously good-looking models, and a legion of finance bros who looked like they gave TED talks while wearing Burberry.
It was a glittering buffet of vanity and hormones, wrapped in velvet lighting and the illusion of power.
We found a table near the bar and hadn’t even ordered drinks when a bartender locked eyes on us.
Well. He was hard to miss-tall, sculpted features, sleeves rolled to the elbows just enough to show off well-trained forearms.
He shouldn’t be mixing drinks-he should be in the Louvre. Or at the very least starring in Dior’s newest fragrance campaign. Maybe that’s why this club was so expensive: even the staff had to be perfect.
“Two 75s, French brandy,”
Before I could even locate the cheapest drink on the menu, Ivanna had already tossed her order at the bartender.
“Make it strong.”
And of course, she didn’t forget to flash her signature smile-the one that balanced perfectly between sexy and innocent, chin tilted just enough to say “Oops, didn’t mean to flirt”.
The bartender reached effortlessly for the gin, giving her a half-smile.
“Rough night?”
“More like an engagement-level disaster,” she said, casually pointing her thumb at me.
“And it’s wrapping up real soon.”
I glanced at her.
“Thrilled that my personal life is now public broadcast.”
She patted my hand with mock sympathy.
“Sweetie, this place runs on romantic catastrophes. Without bad decisions, no one would be buying drinks.”
Then she turned away and melted into the crowd, flipping into Social Queen Mode like someone had hit a switch.
In under ten seconds, she completed a visual sweep-like a hawk zeroing in on prey-before spinning back around and pointing her perfectly manicured finger toward the edge of the dance floor.
“Okay, listen. You need a rebound. Exhibit A: Six-foot-two, hair neater than your ex-fianc?’s moral compass, shirt unbuttoned just enough to scream sexy without slipping into cheap. He either owns a yacht or, at the very least, a VIP card.”
I shook my head.
“Nope.”
Her eyes flicked to a new direction.
“Exhibit B: struggling musician. Dressed like payday hasn’t happened yet, but he’s hot enough you’d forgive him. You’d fund his next album and still sleep like a baby.”
“Pass.”
She sighed, then pointed again.
“Fine. Exhibit C: total dad vibes-but the good kind. Like “books your doctor’s appointment and your breakfast” dad, not “calls the waitress “sweetheart” and thinks climate change is a myth” dad.”
I groaned into my hands.
“Ivanna, please.”
She didn’t back down.
“Elean, you cannot sit here like a decorative wall gecko. Tonight is about rebooting your life, not stitching up emotional wounds.”
Just as she geared up for a fourth round of rebound recommendations, she suddenly froze. It was like someone had hit mute on her entire system.
Then, far too casually, she said, “Hey, want to hit the bathroom?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“No?”