The courtesan, spotting her chance, tried to reach out and give Fiona's sleeve a gentle tug, attempting to charm her way through. But before she could even graze the fabric, Jackson swiftly brushed her off with a glare that could freeze over hell.
“Are you hawking something?” he quipped, dripping with sarcasm. “I've never encountered a brew as potent as your presence.”
The courtesan shook with anger, and the young Stonnell heir rushed to her side, his face darkening. “Jackson, don't push your luck!” he snapped coldly.
Jackson just rolled his eyes, shooting a look at Fiona that seemed to say, “How did the Stonnell family end up with someone so embarrassing?”
Fiona sighed, feeling the weight of dealing with a family that seemed to lack the sense to run their affairs properly. It was exhausting.
“Lian apologized, and if you can't accept that, it's your issue. Don't be so ungrateful!”
Fiona stepped up and slapped the young Stonnell heir, leaving him stunned. To her, people like him were just noise—utterly tiresome.
“Fiona, have you lost your mind?” the young heir gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. Never in his life had anyone dared to strike him.
“If you keep running your mouth, don't tempt me to slap you again!” Fiona's sharp gaze was enough to shut him up.
Given his family ties, she felt it was necessary to set him straight a little.
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