We reach the bottom of the stairs without anyone taking much notice of us. A smiling drinks server steps past and I quickly take a glass of champagne. 

Jesse just eyes me warily.

I shrug. "Keeping up appearances, right?"

"Carl told me that apparently you used to have a drinking problem—"

"Carl didn't even know me back then," I snap. Bloody Riley spreading shit about me. "And it wasn't a problem." I drop my voice. "I was just trying to cope with losing my husband. And ex-lover."

Jesse purses his lips, clearly deciding to pick his battles as he steps back and nods. I lift the glass to my mouth and taking a big gulp of the fizzy liquid. Damn, I remember it being nicer. Or maybe I just liked it because it was forbidden back then...

Nonetheless, I drink more, not willing to back down in front of Jesse, or Carl. Who, I happen to feel glaring a hole into the side of my head.

Don't they trust me?

I drink more.

"Jesse! I haven't seen you in ages!" A young woman approaches my date, hauling him in for a hug.

'Jessica Ruth,' he mouths at me.

I nod, making note of the dark haired Asian girl. Jesse gave us a list of names to watch out for — the ones he thinks could be easily swayed towards our side when everything goes down. He doesn't think they'll fight us.

"Who's this?" she asks, giving me a warm smile as she pulls back.

"This is Kayla," he tells her. "My friend."

Her brows rise. "Friend? You haven't wifed her up yet?"

Jesse laughs. "Not through lack of trying."

What?

"Hence why I brought her tonight."

Oh. It's for the cover. Of course.

I inhale the last half of my champagne before lowering the glass and smiling at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Likewise," she says. "It's about time Jesse found someone."

I just hum in response.

"I'm not sure Kayla sees me that way, Jessica." Jesse nudges her shoulder. "Stop scaring her away."

Jesse and Jessica keep talking and I manage to swap my glass for a full one, sipping from it as I look around the room. Pippa has managed to talk Carl onto the dance floor, but he doesn't look happy about it in the slightest. I don't miss the way his eyes keep sliding towards me.

Jessica eventually steps away. Jesse and I make it four feet before someone else clocks him. This time he doesn't mouth a name at me, and the reason why soon becomes clear. The man dives into a story over the recent waterboarding he did at Killmoor and I throw back more of the alcohol in my hands, not willing to listen any longer. 

Jesse swiftly uses the excuse of me being too pure to hear such things, excusing us from the man and tearing the empty champagne glass from my hands, placing it on the table beside us before wrapping his arm around my waist and inching me onto the dance floor.

"I believe I owed my wife a dance," he murmurs against my ear.

I laugh, resting both of my hands on his shoulders as we begin to sway back and forth. "You did," I tell him. "Little Jesse will start wondering where we are soon."

Jesse grimaces. "Isn't he asleep?"

I tut under my breath before smiling. "No, don't you remember? Miss Griffin can never get him to sleep."

"Oh, that's right," Jesse replies. His hands rest at the base of my spine.

"Although, I'm not sure I care," I comment, tilting my head to the side. "Does that make me a bad mum?"

Jesse's eyes are twinkling. "Not at all," he pauses, lifting his hands to my waist. "It makes you someone who wanted to be taken out for a dance. Someone who wanted to take a break from reality." His hand splays out across my back and he pulls me closer, his mouth dropping to my ear. "And I'm more than happy to help you do that." 

My eyes meet Carl's across the room. He's ignoring Pippa as she chatters into his ear at the edge of the dance floor.

I tear my eyes away and pull my head back, looking up at Jesse's dark eyes. "I'd be a bad mum," I say.

Jesse's brow furrows. "No, you wouldn't."

"I would," I hum, lifting my hands and resting them on the front of his chest. We step to the left, and then the right, back and forth as the slow music fills the room. "I wouldn't know the first thing about not destroying a child."

"No-one ever does," he replies. Jesse spins me away before twirling me back in. I hit his chest and his mouth meets my ear. "Does Riley want children?"

The question slams into my chest. A small surge of warmth spreads through my heart at the idea. 

"I have no idea," I reply honestly.

Jesse turns me in his arms, resting his hands on my back once more. "Well, you have plenty of time to find out. And plenty of time to learn how to be a good mum."

The song draws to an end and we separate, both smiling at one another. He guides me off the dance floor and I swipe another drink from a waiter just as Jesse is swept into another conversation. This one is a good one, judging by the name he throws over his shoulder. I silently sip my drink, my gaze running over the room every ten seconds.

I'm halfway through my drink when I spot Lyla appear in the doorway in the far corner, her white dress splattered with something dark, her eyes wide and uncertain. She turns, disappearing back out the room.

Stepping next to Jesse, I tug on his elbow before smiling apologetically at his friend. "Will you excuse me?" I ask both of them. "I must find the toilet."

Jesse frowns. "Of course. Do you need me to come with—"

"No, no!" I wave away the idea and step backwards. Whirling on my heel, I deposit my drink onto an empty table. I divert myself towards the food table, quickly piling up a plate of food and shooting the judgemental women there a cocky smile. I turn away, heading straight to the far end of the room and stepping through.

"Lyla?" I call out softly. No answer. Stepping further into the small corridor, I try again. "Lyla?" I keep going, further into the depths of the building, unsure where I'm heading. Maybe she's gone. "Lyla?" I try once more.

"Kayla?" She sounds surprised as she rushes around the corner, her eyes full of panic.

"What happened?" I exclaim, dropping the plate of food onto the dresser beside me. "Are you okay?" I reach out, gripping hold of her arms and turning her around. "Your dress!"

"I... It was..." She trails off as my eyes meet hers once more.

"Is it yours?" I exclaim.

"What?" She's confused.

I point at the blood splatters on her dress.

"Oh! No," she replies.

"Then what happened?" I hiss. My grip tightens on her wrist.

"I was just looking for the toilet, and this man... he jumped out at me, wanted me to fuck him, so I hit him," she babbles.

My mouth gapes open and my eyes blaze. "He did what?"

"Kayla! I dealt with it," she reassures me, her nails digging into my arms. "I just... I don't know what to do about..." She gestures to her skirt.

I grit my teeth. This is exactly why I didn't choose the white dress.

"You're going to hate me, but I have an idea," I tell her.

"What is it?"

I purse my lips, lifting the prawn cocktail sauce from my plate before throwing it at the skirt of her dress.

"Kayla!" She squeals.

"We don't have a choice," I hiss in response. I lift up the gravy next, dropping a few millilitres onto her, blurring the dark blood with food.

"This isn't fair!" she exclaims.

I blink at her, dropping the gravy boat back on the tray. "Then you shouldn't have left the party on your own," I retort.

She looks like she's about to argue, but I lift my hand, pointing behind me. "Get back there before Pete starts panicking about not being able to find you!"

"But... but I..." She looks down at the soiled dress. 

"Don't run off on your own next time," I tell her in a whisper. "We're in enemy territory. That was the whole point of being in partners."

She reluctantly nods before disappearing down the corridor.

My blood is boiling. At Lyla's stupidity. The man who attacked her. Feeling like a spare part in the ballroom. Being surrounded by Enforcers. Jesse knowing them.

The alcohol that's slowly infiltrating my body isn't helping either.

I grit my teeth and step forward, heading around the corner and further into the corridor, away from the party. There's an end to the small, dark hallway, and I approach it with caution to find a navy curtain blowing in the breeze. I inch it sideways and step outside. It's a dark balcony, relatively small, but there's a silhouette of someone looking over the edge of the railings.

"You back for more?" His voice is deep, and he doesn't bother turning around. "I thought you said you couldn't—"

"She won't be back," I interrupt him. He whips his head around clearly surprised. I can't make out his face in the dark of the night

"So you're the one," he murmurs. "That's a pretty dress." His head tilts sideways. I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Why are you out here hiding?" 

He leans back, crossing his arms across his chest. "Why are you?"

I click my tongue. "I was looking for you."

"Oh, really—"

"You attacked my friend," I snap. "No-one gets to do that."

He laughs. Actually laughs at my words. "Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it?"

I blink, opening my mouth to respond as my hand dips towards my thighs. But then I freeze. I can't. I'm in disguise here tonight. And it isn't time. The plan to make a stand is later, when we're all together. 

Not when it's just me, out here while my head buzzes from the alcohol.

"I..." I trail off. "Just stay away from her!" I turn, lifting the curtain and stepping inside, desperate to get away as fast as I can.

"Hey! Wait!" His hand curls around my arm. "If she's gone, who's to say that you can't help me?" He tugs me backwards, forcing my body around to face his. His expression contorts from one of lust, to one of disgust. "Jesus," he comments, eyes trailing over my cheek. "You're ugly."

My spine goes rigid, his words punching through my ribcage threatening to tear open old wounds. My body roars at the insult, and I snap. The wire of self restraint inside me breaks hard and fast.

Lifting my hand to the back of my dress, I wrench out the penknife that's stashed inside my bra strap, hauling it out and stepping forward, slamming the man against the wall behind him. As quick as light, I plunge the blade into the side of his throat and snarl at him.

"It's not ugly. It's a fucking battle scar," I snap. His eyes bulge as he gargles on his blood, clearly surprised by the actions of the tiny blonde in front of him. Letting go of the blade, I step backwards, smacking my spine against the other side of the corridor and watch as the man falls to the floor without so much as another word. 

My breath is coming out thick and fast as I stare down at the lifeless body, my knife sticking out of his neck.

Damn it, Kayla.

Jesse was right. I shouldn't have drunk anything.

All I've done is let every emotion infiltrate my brain in the worst way. And now... now I've stabbed someone I wasn't supposed to stab.

I grind my teeth together and drop to my haunches, carefully and slowly withdrawing my blade before wiping it on his suit jacket and replacing it at the back of my bra. Looking down at my dress, I'm relieved to see that I appear to have escaped any blood spillage and quickly stand, moving back towards the door and grabbing onto the man's black shoes. 

I use all my might to drag him backwards, leaving his body on the cold, empty balcony before heading back inside, past the blood stain on the floor and practically running to the party.