Rhysand Harton arches an eyebrow and lazily drawls, "So your secretary and bodyguard resigned and now you need him back because of your scandal. What's wrong with the one you have now?"

"I can't stand him," Sabina snaps, gripping her wine glass between her fingers. "And it's not just the scandal—" she pauses, a bitter taste in her mouth from saying the word. She doesn't like referring to what happened as that, but it's what her agency, her company, and the media calls it. Sabina rolls her eyes. "I just want the three-year secretary, who also happened to be my bodyguard, back."

She's perfectly aware Denver can hear her. He's standing behind them on the deck, beside Rhysand's own security team. She just doesn't care.

He's doing everything by the book—the bodyguard part. But whenever Denver reaches out to tug her by the arm, completely harmless, just to lead her away from a crowd, Sabina gets alarmed, and she yanks it away before skittering off. And whenever he stands behind her, she gets stiff, like she's about to punch the guy if he ever put a hand on her back.

Was it the same way when Tristan first started working for her? It didn't seem like it.

And Denver as a secretary is a fucking mess.

Adrian's loud laugh pulls her out from her thoughts. "You can't stand anyone in your work, Sabina, come on. And give the guy some credit, he's sweating and it's only been his, what, second, third week? And you're not dead yet." He flashes her a dazzling smile from where his head is perched on MJ's lap. "Well. Emphasis on yet."

"Baby," MJ scolds him, smacking him lightly on the shoulder, but she returns to threading her fingers in his disheveled hair and grins at Sabina. "Well. He has a point. But Tristan was good, he pointed a gun at me and he was extremely hot."

Sabina scowls at her. Even though she agrees—he is extremely hot, and talented, and good at his work, and apparently, he's the only one who can touch Sabina without her wanting to rip his arm out of his socket.

"Sab, hold on," Andy cuts in from the other side of the sectional sofa, scooting closer to her fiancé, and Sabina resists rolling her eyes at the way Rhysand puts his hand on her thigh, "What about Heath?"

The name sends Sabina's blood boiling, but she keeps her cool and takes a sip before shrugging. "What about him?"

Andy raises an eyebrow. "I didn't say anything when you were headlines and front page last week, but he's married. With kids."

Sabina smiles. Andy's accustomed to her sex life—Sabina doesn't shy away from anything, gives them all the details, lets the media know her body's hers and hers alone and she will do with it whatever the fuck she wants to—and Andy isn't implying any sort of accusation. She's not like that.

She's pissed Sabina's being called a homewrecker. "And I would've stopped fucking him if I knew that. I wouldn't have, at all, actually. I like a lot of things in bed, but I don't like complications."

"The guy's an asshole, sunshine," Rhysand mutters, fingers caressing Andy's skin. To Sabina, he says, "Glad to know my wedding's not the only thing making the headlines these days."

Jenner steps out into the patio in nothing but beach shorts, five bottles in two hands. "Who's up for more?"

"No more," Andy says harshly with her eyebrows scrunched, standing to push Jenner back into the house. "No one's going to my wedding hungover, or tipsy, or drunk, or I won't let you in." She purses her lips and looks at MJ, and then at Sabina with her arms crossed. Sabina wants to laugh—she looks adorable trying to look firm. "Maids of honor or not. Best man or not."

"Oh, crap." Sabina blinks and puts down her glass, glancing at the orange head. "Do you have a speech for the toast already?"

MJ blinks, too. "Do you?"

Andy's jaw drops open. "I—seriously—"

"Kidding, bub," MJ says, laughing. "Relax, okay! We're the best maids of honor anyone could ever ask for."

"That's up for debate," Rhysand says, placing his shot glass down. He rises to his feet as well and tucks his hands into his pockets, stepping close to his fiancé and tipping her chin up to kiss her slowly, and as much as Sabina hates to admit it, it's cute Andy has to tiptoe to reach him. She sees her smile into his mouth. "I'll see you tomorrow, sunshine." Then he brings her wrist to his lips and kisses that, too.

Adrian stands to grab a bottle Jenner puts down and says, "Last, I promise."

"Last." Jenner clinks bottles with him and throws his head back. Andy shoots them a glare, and they throw peace signs at her and jump into the pool.

"Best man or not, J," Rhysand warns again, grinning from where's trying to gently pry away Andy's fingers clutching his polo shirt. "I love you so bad," he tells her, so softly, and gently. Sabina has heard those words for the past decade they've been together—and before, she used to be worried, used to scrunch her eyebrows—now, she doesn't have any more doubts.

Andy kisses him again and says the words right back. Rhysand doesn't leave.

Sabina makes a mock noise of disgust. "Get out of here already!"

MJ throws a pillow at her. "You need to get laid!"

She did, and then it blew up in her face when she found out the guy was married. Fucking asshole.

Sabina Kyle may be a lot of things, but she's not a fucking homewrecker. And she'll get through her best friend's wedding first before she asks Tristan to come back.

She might just have to beg, too. (And Sabina Kyle doesn't beg anyone. Ever.)

*

On Tristan's last week, Sabina stayed late in the office.

He could quit all he wanted, but he wasn't doing it easily.

At nearly two in the morning, he knocked on her door and called, "Ms. Kyle?"

Sabina didn't look up from her laptop, and her fingers continued its typing.

The man had been training Denver as promised. Bright and early Monday morning, Tristan had a shadow—Denver copied his every move, memorized every line of protocol Tristan whispered to him under his breath, followed instructions easily and efficiently. But now there were two men following her, and the unfamiliar presence of the other made Sabina's skin itch and her mood irritable. She snapped at everyone at her shoots, meetings, and a single stutter from any of her employees flared her annoyance to the maximum.

May it be said that Sabina Kyle hated change. Resented it with every fiber of her being.

Or maybe she just hated the aching curiosity sitting at the back of her head, which had no business being there in the first place, since Tristan's resignation. Why? Did he hate her that much? Was she too difficult, too high-maintenance, too recognizable to the media and the public? Did he secretly hold a grudge against her for all the times he carried her home drunk, all the times he had to witness her making out with someone in the backseat of the car (before they screwed each other), all the times he had to pull her away from a tight crowd because she was too stubborn to say no to a picture with a fan?

Maybe he lied. Maybe he resented her for rejecting him—but Sabina has a hard time believing it. His letter didn't say anything, and Sabina was too prideful to ask again.

"Ms. Kyle," Tristan said again, louder and clearer this time, as he stepped inside her office. He knew better than to interrupt her while she was working. Her teeth gritted. "It's late, you should go home and get some rest—"

"Are you telling me what to do, Tristan?" Sabina spoke, arching a perfectly-shaved eyebrow, courtesy of her makeup artist at her CF shoot this morning. She looked at him, and met his blank yet hard icy blue eyes. She held it for a few seconds, and admitted to herself that he was brave for staring back at her. "I'm not done. You don't leave this office until I do, remember?"

It was immature as it was petty. In the three years he worked for her—sure. She was difficult. Hard to keep out of trouble, especially when she looked for it. But never cruel towards her employees. Hard to please? Maybe. Intimidating? Yes, absolutely.

Cruel? No. Tristan Bishop brought out the worst in her.

He kept his gaze locked with hers. "You're not doing a very good job of hiding your resentment, Kyle."

The model leaned back against her chair, surprised at his comment. "Who said I was hiding it?"

His jaw tightened, and his hand came up to loosen his tie in frustration. She wanted that tie around his eyes, maybe his wrists. Or vice versa. She already knew he was as deft in bed as he was in his work. "Denver goes home."

"Denver stays," Sabina quickly said, voice rising. Her stare turned into a cold glare. "You give the orders now?"

"You're not this cruel, Sabina." Her breath caught in her throat when her name, for the first time, fell from his lips. He didn't look regretful. "Go. Home," he bit out, "and if you want to keep having a secretary, and God knows you need one, let us go home, too."

He could've said a lot more things. He could've said they needed the rest if they were going to work for her and protect her all day, if they were arriving at her doorstep at seven thirty sharp in the morning. He could've said she was a real fucking bitch, he could've humiliated her for being so vengeful that it showed how hurt she was about his resignation—and the lack of reason for it.

But he didn't, and Sabina's blood boiled. She shut her laptop closed, grabbed her bag, and put on her heels. "Eight thirty tomorrow," she snapped, and from the hall, Denver scrambled to pull open the door before she slowed her damn step. "Use my card for breakfast. Take me home."

On his last day at work, Sabina ignored the itch in her skin as he, Denver, and Stan drove her home.

He opened the car door for her. "Have a good night, Ms. Kyle."

She swallowed thickly and didn't look at him, and for the first time, didn't say it back.

*

"I cannot believe Andy is married," MJ whispers.

"Andy is fucking married," Sabina agrees, stunned.

"I'm fucking married!" Andy shouts in delight, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and wide, the perfect glow of happiness and bliss on her face. She jumps on her feet, her heels clanking against the tiles, and she holds up her hand, where her wedding band is tucked underneath her engagement ring in her finger, and holy shit. Andy is married. "Oh my God," she gushes, breathing heavily, and then she turns over her palm to look at it, her other hand coming up to brush the pads of her fingers against the rings. "Oh my God, I'm married to Rhysand."

"Yes, well, it would be a problem if you were married to someone else," Sabina says, nodding, but her chest feels warm, and she finds that her lips spread into a wide grin. "Come here, kid, I'm so happy for you."

They get into a momentous group hug, and Andy whips out her phone, all breathy and giggly, and takes a picture. One of the official photographers rushes over quickly and snaps one as well.

"Mrs. Harton," Rhysand's voice says, and Andy's head twists around so fast Sabina is surprised she didn't break her neck.

"That's me!" Andy giggles, and without missing a beat, she jumps to his arms and kisses him.

MJ huffs out a laugh. "Jesus. Is that what it feels like to be married?"

"I wouldn't know," Sabina says, shaking her head.

Rhysand gently puts Andy down and interlaces their fingers together. To the pair, he says, "You have your speeches, right?"

Ah. Time for the toasts. They take their designated seats, and the crowd quiets down when Trey takes his place at the mic. Sabina catches her own father's eye a table away and blows him a kiss. Alan pretends to dodge it.

Kalim is two whole islands away from South Bend. Andy wanted her wedding here—it was her dream as a child, and Rhysand made sure to make it happen. No, he didn't just make it happen, he outdid himself—rented a whole hotel. Covered all travelling expenses, flew to the island whoever Andy wanted as guests. Andy had a share, of course, weddings aren't cheap, but Rhysand was determined to give Andy everything she wanted and more. And as busy as he was with work, he made time to make sure they planned the whole wedding together—from invitation and colors and flowers to cake and tablecloths and food and photographers. Sabina would know—she and MJ had been at the receiving end of Andy's stress from all the preparations and made sure to help when they can, but Rhysand made the decisions, too. As far as Sabina knew, the guy didn't even want marriage before Andy, much less a grand one.

Sabina doesn't value marriage as much as Andy does, but she was more than happy to let someone she considered her sister commit herself to Rhysand.

She doesn't remember much of what she said during her speech, but it was genuine, and sincere, and she can see Andy's eyes start to tear up. "Rhysand," she says, swallowing thickly, and forces herself to look in his eyes, "you are one lucky man. My best friend, my sister, has brought so much kindness, and love, and, as you call her, 'sunshine' into my life, and she will devote the same to you in your years together and that is incredibly priceless." Rhysand nods in agreement, and kisses Andy's knuckles. Regards Sabina with gratitude. "This is the first and last time I'll be saying this, but." She huffs out a laugh. "Thank you for making her happy. And I don't really believe in love," she says, raising her glass, "but you two give me hope. Congratulations. To the bride and groom!"

Andy hugs her and MJ as soon as all the toasts are done, and to no one's surprise, she's crying. "Sab," she sobs. "Sab, MJ, I love you both, thank you so much."

"Stop crying," Sabina says firmly, but she hugs her best friend to her. "This is your day, kid. Enough crying and go dance with your husband."

"Okay." She sniffles and pulls back. MJ squeezes her hand. "Okay, I'm going to go dance with him and then my dad, and when the floor's open, I'll drag you two to the dance floor."

Andy keeps true to her promise. Sabina knocks back so much drinks she loses count, and her throat begins to burn and her vision turns a little hazy, but she's having fun with the music, the dancing, she's with her best friends, and she's having an amazing night.

That is, until her father pulls her away with a worried scrunch to his forehead. "Sweetheart, how are you?"

"Oh, Dad, come on. Not you, too." Sabina groans, leaving the dance floor, and Alan follows her. "I've been getting some looks all evening and it fucking annoys me—this is Andy's day, you know? I don't need you to coddle me, too. Here, have a drink." She pushes a shot glass to him, which he takes reluctantly.

Sabina admires her father. She does. Like Trey, he raised her on his own.

Her father stares at her, the lines on his forehead deepening. "Is it true?"

"I didn't know," Sabina says flatly. "Dad, I love you, but let's not talk about this, please. I want to have one night to myself before I get back to work on Monday. The media will hound me. Fans will—no, are dropping me. Paparazzi will follow me everywhere, I'll have to make statements with my PR team again and sue some people for slander and defamation. Let me have a night, Dad, okay?"

Alan sighs and pulls her to him. "Okay. Okay, just wanted to make sure you were fine."

"I'm your daughter, Dad, of course I'm fine. I'm a woman of fire."

"That, you are." He laughs. And then downs his shot. "Well, I'm going to go dance, too."

"Dance with me!" Sabina shouts, and then pulls him to the dance floor.

When the parents crash and the party's starting to wind down, Sabina finds someone to bring back to her room.

Just 'til Monday. Before her career comes crashing down.

*

thank you all for the nice words on chapter 1 :c it's really pressuring to write a book after andy's with the same characters, and i know there are certain expectations of this book because of the love TWOU got (thank you so so much, I'm so grateful), but please be reminded that TBB is not the same as TWOU, and sabina will have a different personality and perspective from andy's. 

and, if i finish this as planned, i will be writing something for andy and rhys! 

thank you so much and please leave your thoughts, i love reading comments!