Page 3 of The Encore’s Crown

Rithy points his glass at me. “Do you remember Seoul?”

“I remember Rafe being fucking dramatic.”

“You remember him stomping your phone into tiny pieces just for flirting with Natalia.” Rithy leans in, eyes bright with warning. He tips his head toward Delaina, who's now drawing a slow line down my abdomen with one finger, her expression turning sulky from neglect. “Besides, you’re still having too much fun doing all this.”

“This?”

He flicks his gaze over the booth, the champagne, the bodies, Delaina’s mouth near my jaw. “Pretty things. No strings unless they come attached to lingerie. I’m not judging, I’m participating. Just don’t go dipping a toe into the Sawadzka universe when you know you're still… let's go with, hm, neck deep for our company's sake, in whatever you're doing.”

Delaina’s eyebrows lift. “Whatever he's doing?”

Rithy turns to her with immediate charm. “Respectfully. You are obviously divine.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s amused. My phone buzzes again.

Not a reply, but a notification. I hate that I look down. Natalia’s story opens under my thumb. There she is, blonde hair shining under confetti, mouth painted, eyes bright from champagne and defiance. She’s laughing at something off-camera. Then the next tagged photo loads and some guy has his hand at her waist, kissing her at midnight as if he’s earned the right. Her eyes are half-open, like she can't wait for it to be over. I smirk. The thought that if it was me, she wouldn't look bored, that's for damn sure, flashes across my mind, unwelcome. I stare for one second too long. It wouldn't mean anything to most, but it's enough for Rithy to notice.

He makes a sound. “Mmm.”

I lock the phone and put it in my pocket.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“I didn't say a thing.”

“She can kiss whoever she wants.”

“Right,” Rithy says, too mildly. I look at him. He gives me one of his mischievous grins.

Delaina, impatient now, slides a hand to the side of my face and turns me toward her. “Are you done?”

I look at her, at her pouty lips, those confident eyes, that perfect body angled toward mine with zero complication in it. No little blonde force of nature with a smart mouth and a laugh that’s been stuck in my head longer than I expected.

This is simple. I understand simple. So I smile, slowly. Delaina’s gaze drops to my mouth. Rithy watches me like he knows exactly what I’m doing and thinks I’m finally coming to my senses for doing it. Maybe I am. The man beside him leans closer and murmurs something near his ear, fingertips grazing Rithy’s arm in a quiet bid for his attention. Rithy barely looks away from me.

I slide my hand around Delaina’s waist and pull her firmly onto my lap, close enough that I can feel her breath catch against my neck. Her surprise melts into satisfaction almost instantly.

“You’re back, finally. I almost gave up,” she purrs.

I kiss her like I’m reminding myself of every easy rule I know how to follow. Like the night is loud enough to drown out anything inconvenient. With my lips on Delaina, midnight is just midnight, and a kiss is just a kiss, and Natalia Sawadzka is just a pretty girl with someone else’s mouth on hers. She melts into me, one hand sliding into my hair, the other curling around my shoulder as the club erupts around us. Champagne spills. Fireworks bloom white and gold across the windows. The crowd screams the countdown’s last broken echoes from the dance floor.

Rithy raises his glass beside us, unimpressed and entertained. “To terrible decisions,” he says, tapping his glass against mine, then Delaina’s, before turning to clink it with his guest’s too

I break the kiss just enough to smile against Delaina’s mouth.

“Happy fucking New Year,” I murmur, and pull her back in.

Chapter 2

Something Good, Maybe?

Natalia

These stupid roots.

Everyone’s due any minute for our family’s ritual Friday night dinner, and I’m only halfway through bleaching them. Hurry up, I tell the bleach like it has anything to do with my poor timing. That’s when, of course, my sister knocks on my bedroom door, hesitant enough to make me pause. As if I’ve ever done anything important in this room besides film TikTok thirst traps and reorganize my skincare shelf.

“Nat?” she calls, careful in a way that instantly raises my suspicion. “Can I talk to you?”