Chapter 2 Zoey Outshines Her In Every Way

A wolf whistle cut through the haze. "Who's the bombshell you brought tonight, Mr. Dale? Don't be stingy-aren't you going to introduce her?"

Another chimed in with admiration, "She's got that A-lister vibe. Looks like she belongs on the big screen, not in here with us!"

Wilbur Owen, oozing self-assurance, slapped his date's hip in passing, sending her away without so much as a second thought. He winked at Cheryl and offered, "Come over here and have a seat, gorgeous."

The woman tossed Cheryl a venomous glare before sauntering off.

Cheryl kept silent, all her focus lasered in on one goal-making her move on Shane Warren. She had zero interest in bantering with these lightweight party men.

Rodger waited for the teasing to subside before offering a smooth introduction. "This is Cheryl Blake-one of my agency's models. She's off tonight, so I thought I'd show her around. Figure she might land some jobs if you get to know her."

A booming laugh erupted from Wilbur. "Come on, Rodger, since when do your models need to schmooze with the likes of us?"

Rodger sidestepped the mockery with a polished grin, nodding toward Cheryl. "Why don't you find a seat, Cheryl?"

The cue was clear. Cheryl slipped through the crowd, eyes locked on her destination-the southwest corner.

Passing Wilbur without a pause, she left him sitting there, mouth agape.

"Hell!" A muttered curse slipped from him as she breezed by, but any complaint died on his lips when he saw where she was headed.

Every conversation in the room screeched to a halt. Heads turned, and a hush fell as Cheryl claimed the empty spot next to that man in the corner.

Shock rippled through the crowd. Even Wilbur was floored. No one missed it.

Shane had barely been back in Onistin a week, and Wilbur had thrown this whole party just to welcome him home.

This bunch had history-a pack of childhood friends, always stirring trouble.

Still, Shane belonged to a whole different world. His paternal grandfather wielded serious political muscle, his aunt navigated international diplomacy, his father held a general's rank, his mother shattered scientific records, and his mother's father was rumored to have more money than the rest of them combined.

No one in Onistin rivaled the Warren family-power and wealth were theirs in equal measure.

Most of the time, Shane kept to the shadows, rarely mingling with them. The pecking order was ruthless, and Wilbur only managed to connect with the Warren family thanks to his grandfather.

Tonight was a stroke of pure luck for Wilbur-Shane hardly ever showed his face at these parties.

Stories about Shane were legend. He never chased after women. He was untouchable, ice-cold, and every inch the class act.

So what was Cheryl thinking, sidling up to him like it was nothing?

She was practically poking a bear, gambling for a reaction that could burn her.

Anxiety prickled at Wilbur's palms. He half-rose from his seat, ready to yank Cheryl away from the fire-until a strong grip pressed him back down.

Spinning in surprise, Wilbur met Rodger's eyes.

Rodger lifted his glass with a relaxed grin. "Cheers."

A moment's hesitation passed, then understanding flashed in Wilbur's narrowed eyes.

Cheryl was being used, a pawn in Rodger's little game.

If Shane even blinked the wrong way, Cheryl could vanish from Onistin in a heartbeat.

Rodger wasn't just heartless-he was downright dangerous.

Even so, Wilbur had no intention of missing a front-row seat to the fireworks about to go off.

If things blew up with Shane, Wilbur had an easy out-Rodger would take the fall.

Clueless to her starring role in this living soap opera, Cheryl took her place at Shane's side, hands trembling as she poured whiskey to the brim of his glass.

A slip of her nerves sent expensive liquor splashing over her wrist.

She barely paused to wipe it away, blurting, "Sorry, Mr. Warren! Let me fetch you a clean glass-"

Shane passed her a napkin, his motion easy and measured.

"Take it slow, Miss Blake," he replied, his tone velvet-smooth, his gaze barely drifting in her direction.

There was nothing arrogant about him in that moment-just an ordinary man, no hint of the legendary aloofness.

A quick bite to her lip and Cheryl murmured a quiet thanks, voice barely audible.

The private suite stretched wide, with Shane tucked at the farthest edge, well out of Wilbur's range for eavesdropping or prying eyes.

Frustrated, Wilbur twisted back to Rodger. "You're really okay tossing Cheryl into this mess?"

Rodger halted mid-sip, a smirk curving his lips. "She's nothing special, Wilbur. Zoey outshines her in every way."

Memories of Cheryl's lingering perfume flickered through Wilbur's mind, and a rare pang of sympathy struck him. "She's stood by you for eight years. She's Zoey's half-sister-even if she isn't legitimate, she's still family. You can't just-"

Rodger's words sliced in, cold and final. "Listen, Wilbur. If Cheryl doesn't end up in Shane's bed, Zoey won't ever let him go."

A heavy silence settled over Wilbur.

Details about the whole situation were fuzzy for most, but Wilbur had picked up enough to connect the dots.

Ever since they were kids, Zoey had been obsessed with one dream-marrying Shane and claiming the title of his perfect wife.

Nothing else mattered to her-not even the fact that her childhood friend Rodger was still hopelessly devoted.

All Zoey could see was the Warren family name and the prestige that came with it.

It didn't hurt that Shane's mother and Zoey's mother were inseparable in college, best friends with a knack for plotting their kids' futures.

Years before any of them were even born, an informal engagement had been put in motion.

In their world, everyone treated Shane as Zoey's destined fiancé, even if nothing was written in stone.

Zoey wore the "future Mrs. Warren" act like a designer label, never missing a chance to flaunt it.

Wilbur's curiosity finally got the best of him. "Tell me this-what makes you think Cheryl's got any shot with Shane?" Sure, Cheryl was striking, but Shane had seen it all.

Rodger's gaze slid toward Cheryl, his expression unreadable. "Sometimes you just have to gamble and see how the cards fall."

With a grunt of admiration, Wilbur gave Rodger a nod.

Zoey's loathing for her half-sister ran deep. Anything with Cheryl's fingerprints on it, Zoey wouldn't touch-not then, not ever.

That was the gamble Rodger was counting on: throw Cheryl into Shane's orbit and hope it would finally make Zoey back off. As much as Wilbur doubted the odds, he had to admit-it was a gutsy play.