Say Less I Love You Episode 22

Chapter 255

 NYLA

Alexander pulls us aside in the circular driveway, his expression grave. The mansion looms behind him, light and music spilling from every window.

"We can't be seen together inside," he says in a low voice. "Ivan's people will be watching. If they spot you with us, Nyla..."

"It's fine." I wave off his concern, though my stomach knots. "I can handle myself."

Lori grabs my arm. "I don't like this. What if something happens?"

"Then I'll text you," I assure her, squeezing her hand. "Go ahead, I'll wait five minutes before following."

Alexander offers Lori his arm, leading her up the marble steps. I watch them disappear into the grand foyer, trying to calm my racing pulse.

When I finally enter, the opulence takes my breath away. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow prisms across gilded walls. A string quartet plays in one corner while waiters weave through the crowd with champagne and caviar.

"Care for a drink, miss?" A server materializes beside me.

I take a flute of champagne, using it to hide my face as I scan the room. That's when I spot her - Anastasia holding court by the French doors, draped in a crimson designer gown that probably cost more than a house. She throws back her head laughing at something, diamonds glittering at her throat.

I drift toward the opposite side of the room, positioning myself where I can keep an eye on her while remaining inconspicuous. The champagne helps steady my nerves as I watch and wait for my moment.

Through the crowd, I catch glimpses of Lori and Alexander dancing, maintaining their cover. I take another sip, reminding myself why I'm here. For Jacob. For my grandfather. For all the people Neuromax will destroy if I don't stop it.

Now I just have to figure out how to get Anastasia alone.

I watch Anastasia glide through the crowd toward the bathroom, her crimson dress a slash of color against the cream marble. After counting to thirty, I follow, my heels clicking against the polished floor.

The bathroom is all gilt mirrors and crystal sconces. Anastasia emerges from a stall, dabbing at her nose with a monogrammed handkerchief. She freezes when she sees me, her perfectly lined eyes widening.

"You!" Her hand flies to her throat. "How did you—" She lunges for her clutch, no doubt reaching for her phone.

"Wait." I hold up my hands. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I heard about Kevin."

She pauses, suspicious. "What about him?"

"That he left you for someone else." I lean against the marble counter. "Must've hurt, finding out you were just another conquest."

"You don't know anything about it." But her voice wavers slightly.

"Actually, I do. He pulled the same thing with me, remember? Got me drunk, had me sign away everything I owned." I examine my nails. "Men like Kevin, they're all about the chase. Once they've won, they move on to the next target."

Anastasia's shoulders slump almost imperceptibly. "He said I was different."

"Yeah, he's good at making you feel special." I meet her eyes in the mirror. "Right up until he isn't."

For a moment, her carefully constructed mask slips, revealing a flash of raw pain. I recognize that look - I wore it myself not so long ago.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks quietly.

"Because sometimes the enemy of my enemy..." I let the words hang between us.

I lead Anastasia to a quiet corner of the terrace, where silver moonlight spills across marble tables. A waiter materializes with fresh champagne.

"Kevin was the mastermind behind everything," Anastasia says, twirling the stem of her glass. "He manipulated me just like he did you."

I take a measured sip, keeping my expression sympathetic while my mind races. The diamonds at her throat catch the light as she leans forward.

"He promised we'd run away together after getting your money." Her voice cracks slightly. "Then I found him with that Instagram model in St. Barts."

"Men like that only care about themselves," I say softly, noting how her shoulders slump. Without her usual entourage, the cracks in her polished facade are starting to show.

"You know what the worst part was?" Anastasia downs her champagne. "He told everyone I was clingy and desperate. Me!" She gestures for another glass. "Now half my so-called friends won't even take my calls."

I place my hand over hers. "That must be lonely."

Anastasia tosses her dark hair, the diamonds at her throat catching the moonlight. "It’s fine. I have plenty of friends. Just last week, Genevieve and I went to the most exclusive pop-up in SoHo..."

I notice how her voice wavers slightly, the way her fingers fidget with her champagne glass. The gesture reminds me of better times, before Kevin's betrayal tore our friendship apart.

"You know," I say softly, "I've actually missed you, Anastasia. Despite everything that happened."

She pauses mid-sip, studying my face for any trace of deception. Finding none, her shoulders relax slightly.

"Speaking of Kevin," I continue carefully, "I saw him at Mulberry Bar last week. With Trixa."

The champagne glass freezes halfway to her lips. "What?"

"They seemed... cozy. She was wearing that Valentino dress you wanted - the one Kevin said was too expensive."

Anastasia's knuckles whiten around the stem of her glass. "That snake. He told me Trixa was just a client."

"And he told me you were just an old friend." I lean back, letting that sink in.

"That manipulative bastard." Anastasia downs her champagne in one gulp. "Using the same playbook on all of us."

"Men like Kevin, they don't change. They just find new targets."

"God, we were such idiots." She laughs bitterly. "At least you figured him out before he could steal everything."

"Yeah, well, he still got plenty." I signal the waiter for more champagne. "To learning our lessons the hard way?"

Anastasia clinks her glass against mine. "To making him pay for every single one."