“You wicked girl. I sent you an invite and you said you couldn’t make it, and now here you are—trying to surprise me?”
Grace didn’t even need to turn around. She could tell who it was from the very first syllable—Dana. Her lifelong rival.
They’d been competing since they were kids, always trying to outdo each other. On the surface, they looked like friends, but every little thing between them was a contest.
It only hit Grace then—of course. Dana had married into the Whitmore family. They were the ones hosting this private champagne gala. She vaguely remembered receiving an invite for her and Raphael. Exclusive to financiers, top artists, royals, and other VIPs… no wonder the building had been locked up tighter than a vault.
Dana, acting like the lady of the house, came sweeping over w
