CHAPTER 1 | PLAY WITH FIRE
WHERE THERE IS A SMOKE
“Dear readers, I regret to inform you that one of the greatest mysteries remains unsolved: how Kiss Daily manages to spill so many fabricated tales per edition when its editor-in-chief can’t seem to manage her own. Yes, we’re speaking of none other than E.W, the messy heiress-turned-self-made-she-devil of her own personal inferno and the rather ordinary gentleman she’s been seen fraternizing with. Word among the world of the glitter is that her newest love interest is... quite literally no one.
From nearly bagging the smoking hot heir, G.B, to allegedly falling for a man with neither name, fortune, nor reputation? That’s a descent we wouldn’t expect from someone who buried so many of her subjects for the less fortunate in her tell-tale magazine. Still, credit where it’s due: perhaps E.W is more considerate than she appears. After all, she’s been keeping this delicate affair well hidden, no doubt to spare high society a collective heart attack.
Of course, it could all be amusing hearsay. Or perhaps, after years spent disowned from her family’s fortune, the dethroned queen has finally learned to appreciate life beyond champagne toasts and gold accents. Either way, my lovely readers, I’ll be on the trail, and as you well know where there’s smoke, The Rumorette always finds the fire.
Yours until next secret,
The Rumorette.”
CHAPTER 1 | PLAY WITH FIRE
Days of following the smoke, in fact, had brought Rebecca Miller into the midst of a neon-lit forest fire at the luxury club Imperia. The pounding music rattled her body as the dancers on the dance floor swirled in a fancy blur of glitter and silk.
Rebecca stayed in a shadowed corner with a glass of violet cocktail between her slender fingers. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes cut through the bouncing crowd through the artificial smoke before locking on the VIP balconies stacked like elegant opera boxes above the sweaty mayhem.
Her usual leather jacket and crop top were sacrificed for the sake of blending into the posh nightclub. A navy, glittery mini-dress hugged her curves tightly while a damn feathery silver scarf kept sticking to her shimmering red lip gloss with every wrong move. Her dark waves fell artlessly over one shoulder if one ignored the single rebellious strand she kept shoving behind her ear for a better view.
Even without a mirror, she was sure her eyeliner was smudged beyond repair. Still, she figured she was holding up better than most, who were slowly melting into deaf puddles on the vast dance floor.
“Maybe we should, you know, have a little fun. It’s not like Eloise will spot us and immediately go ‘yep, that’s the Rumorette.’”
A laugh bubbled in her throat, and Rebecca glanced at her best friend next to her. A pastel pink mini dress draped from her petite figure, and her blonde hair in a messy-on-purpose bun.
“We had to take a cab here because you cannot walk on those nine-inch heels,” Rebecca pointed out, nodding down.
“I can most certainly dance,” Lila Delainey replied with the most serious expression she could muster under her curtain bangs. “But I can’t do that, knowing you’re sulking in the corner and waiting for that maniac to show up.”
“I’m okay,” she insisted.
“I’ve never seen you being so obsessed with proving someone wrong. I mean, so what if she’s dating someone normal?” she said, making an air quote with her index finger. “The woman had been disowned by her own family because of some pictures. Her ex keeps being seen with different women every night. I’m sure dating a decent guy is actually good for her.”
Internally, Rebecca agreed. Despite her readers who demanded more, the entire case had no value in the land of scandalous news. Yet it was Eloise Ward, and the closest thing Rebecca could find in the name of ’revenge’ was exposing her secret relationship.
In a way, it had been the redhead who lit the match, not her:
“Are you seriously comparing Kiss Daily to The Rumorette? I’ll take that as an insult. It’s a tiny social media page, probably run by a wannabe fourteen-year-old, who recycles whatever we report. Why do you think she’s so afraid to show her face?” Eloise Ward had said in a live stream, twirling a pen between her fingers.
“I mean, she technically doesn’t share baseless gossip. She has been exposing quite a few scandals over the last two years ,from affairs to corruption in the industry. Doesn’t she work more like an investigator–” someone from the participants dared to suggest.
A raspy laugh. “Fine, let’s call her a Sherlock wanna-be, shall we? I just hope whatever she’s making from that little page of hers covers her school fees. If I haven’t destroyed her yet, it’s because I’m more merciful than you guys give me credit for.”
Well, Rebecca Miller was twenty-seven, thank you very much, and that tiny little page was about to add another shove to Eloise Ward’s ever-ongoing downfall.
Shoving aside every tip and half-baked scandal cluttering her inbox, Rebecca had zeroed in on every blind item mentioning Eloise before she’d executed the perfect meet-cute with Eloise’s employees to get some tea, and checked every hot spot in the city. In the end, over cocktails with a gossip columnist who loved the sound of his own voice, she’d pieced together the story: the blue-blooded but utterly disgraced Eloise Ward had been quietly seeing someone far below her league, someone she preferred to keep hidden from the glittering circles she still pretended to belong to.
And they met at the luxury club Imperia every Thursday, when the phones were banned to emphasize the exclusivity of the event.
“Bex, come on,” Lila whined softly over the pounding music, tugging on her hand. “Let’s have some fun.”
One thing she couldn’t resist was the carefully crafted puppy eyes her best friend made. She was about to yield it to them again when... she saw her. Right behind Lila’s shoulder, a woman sat on the bar at the far distance to the blinding neon lights. The fiery red of her hair spilled down her back in glossy waves, catching the golden light. Every tiny movement sent the sequins of her top glittering, making Rebecca wonder how the hell she’d missed her before.
Next to her, a blond man was whispering into her ear.
“She’s here,” she muttered under her breath, handing her cocktail glass to Lila in a swift motion.
“Where?” Lila inquired and seized the glass.
“You wait here, and I’ll take the pictures,” Rebecca ordered flatly, her eyes unable to move anywhere but her target.
“Are you sure? I can help. I read all the issues of her magazine,” Lila joked and sipped from Rebecca’s glass.
“I’ll send a signal if I need your expertise,” she replied, smirking at her friend’s self-mockery.
Spinning on her high heels, Rebecca pushed back into the crowd. She forced her way past a cluster of bodies. Shouldering past a cluster of people, she ignored the glares thrown in her way as she headed to the small bar on the corner.
She moved toward the oblivious couple. Someone brushed past her, then another, as she kept her pace steady. One hand dipped into her small purse, fingers fumbling until they closed around the familiar weight of her camera pen. By the time her fingertips grazed the device, she was already sliding onto the stool beside the man whose back still turned to her.
Pulling out a small notebook, Rebecca set it on the counter, angling the spy pen just right to catch Eloise when… the man spun in a sharp, effortless one-eighty and snatched the pen straight from her fingers. Her heart skipped a beat, her brain scrambling to catch up, eyes locking onto the pen now twirling lazily between the fingers of her target.
With sublime effort, she swallowed hard and forced her face into something resembling indifference, though her pulse thudded wildly beneath her skin.
Giving out a fake laugh that bordered on annoyance and shock, Rebecca leaned over them. “Excuse me, what are you—”
“Grant Enterprises,” the man drawled, reading the label with deliberate slowness as the pen spun through his fingers.
“Really?” Eloise scowled, offense creeping into her porcelain features as she leaned over his shoulder for a better look. “Ugh. That’s the one Mark gave me on my birthday when it first launched. I hated it! Makes me look like a malnourished ghost.” Her amber gaze shot up to meet Rebecca’s. “That’s the camera you were going to take a picture of me with? You can’t be that mad at me!”
What now?
Blinking at the glare of her target, Rebecca’s mind raced to catch up. Somehow, she managed to sneer and reach for the pen. “I think there’s a misunderstanding, because I wasn’t photographing you, and that’s my—”
“And next you’ll tell me you’re not the owner of The Rumorette, and you’re definitely not here because I ‘wound you up’,” Eloise interrupted, her voice dripping with mockery. Propping her chin on her knuckles, she continued lazily, “And then you’ll say your parents aren’t Danny Stallard and Katherine Lewis. Because that would be such a scandal, wouldn’t it? The missing, spoiled daughter of the iconic couple anonymously exposes their entire social circle. For what? Revenge?”
The blond man grimaced, cutting Eloise a sidelong glance. “A little long for a headline.”
“Yeah, I haven’t had time to work on it yet,” Eloise grumbled, mirroring his distaste.
Rebecca’s jaw tightened as her mind tripped over a thousand possible lies that could get her away from the grave turn of events. Eloise could fact-check with the bouncer in under a minute and confirm her family name. Denying she ran The Rumorette was useless. They could drag her to the entrance and demand her phone, and she’d have no defense. They wouldn’t even need force. A single threat of publishing that too-long headline would make her do anything.
Damn it!
“If you plan not to waste our time by lying, which I appreciate,” Eloise drawled, resting a ring-heavy hand on her chest in mock sincerity, “shall we go to my booth and speak some business?”
Rebecca let out a slow, dry sigh and lowered herself off the stool. “Okay. Lead the way.”
“Excellent move as always,” the man approved, a cheeky grin taking over his thin lips.
Rebecca sent him a glare, causing him to nod toward ‘his date’ beside her.
“I wasn’t talking about yours. Yours was utterly stupid,” the man continued in blatant honesty. “Her Majesty, on the other hand…”
“Oh, stop it, Cam,” Eloise huffed in faux modesty, waving an eloquent head as she spun to the stairs leading to the VIP area.
Her Majesty.
Just what did she get herself into?
*****
A/N: Hello there! Thank you so much for giving this story a chance. I can't wait to hear your thoughts as we unmask some glittery secrets.
If parts of this world feel familiar, you’ve likely been following my work. While I’ve shared a version of this story on other platforms before years ago under a different pen name, it has undergone so much transformation that it is brand new now.
This book serves as the first in a series. While it shares a universe with my previous self-published book, this is a complete standalone and it would be a prequel. If you are new here, don’t worry, this was always meant to be your first introduction to these characters. For those who read my works previously, yes, there are some special recurring characters.
The Schedule: I’ll be aiming for two updates a week. At the very least, you can count on a new chapter every Wednesday.
