Page 21 of Lavish

Reese led them off toward the bar, and Laurene squeezed my arm before following them.

I locked eyes with Miles.

“Rena,” Erik murmured, and I jumped, feeling like I’d been caught, and turned to him.

“Don’t let him rile you,” he said, chin tilting just barely toward Miles.

I bristled. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

I folded my arms, defensive. “Since when do you care who I look at?”

Surprisingly, Erik smiled instead of getting mad. “If he does something, come to me.I’m here for you.”

“I need some air,” I mumbled.

I’d thrown the perfect shower. I’d accounted for flowers, food, lighting—every little detail. And still, the party was ruined.

Breathe, just breathe.

I paused, tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and soaked up the sun. If I had someone bring out more champagne, maybe people would focus on the drinks instead of Mama storming off and probably cussing.

A new playlist. Something softer. Distracting. And maybe if I gave an impromptu toast—no, too desperate. A game? Too childish.

Think. Think.

How can I fix this?My brain spun through solutions like a Rolodex. I needed to control the narrative before this made it to theLush Chronicles. Before someone posted a video.

Damage control. Not panic. Not failure. Just…strategy.

So why did it feel like I was about to cry? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about the past? I thought it was dead and gone.

“If they think they’ve won, you’ve already lost,”Jenese once told me.“Control the room before the room controls you.”

“Serena.” Miles’s low rumble chilled me.

“Didn’t you hear my brother? What do you want?” I asked without turning around. My voice was surprisingly calm, despite the inner turmoil I felt. “If you came to piss me off, you did.”

“Cold as ice, baby, always so cold as ice.”

“Why the hell are you still here?”

Miles snorted. “To give you a good look at all this sexiness you been missing, of course. I got a six-pack now. Wanna touch?”

I gave him a look of disgust, but my eyes couldn’t help but glance at his stomach, unfortunately covered by the shirt.

“That why you ran?” he asked, voice quiet now. “’Cause I embarrassed you? Or ’cause I still know how to get under your skin?”

“Don’t,” I said.

“Sure.” He grinned. “That why your hands shakin’, Sunny?”

Sunny.He often said it growing up. My special nickname.I felt a knife in my chest.

“Don’t call me that.”

I had to leave. He was overwhelming.