The party was loud, just the way I liked it. Music pulsed through the house, bodies swayed, and I stood at the center of it all—untouchable, admired, adored. It was always like this. Boys tripped over themselves to get my attention, girls watched with thinly veiled envy. It was a game I had mastered.

Rafe Cameron was watching too, but not in the way the others did. His gaze wasn’t filled with awe or desire. It was sharp, calculating, like he was trying to figure me out, trying to decide if he even wanted to bother.

“Having fun, princess?” His voice cut through the noise when he finally approached, leaning against the counter where I sipped my drink.

I barely spared him a glance. “More fun than you, clearly.”

He scoffed. “Yeah? That why you’re surrounded by guys you don’t even like? Just for the thrill of it?”

I turned to him, tilting my head. “What’s it to you, Rafe?”

His jaw tightened. “Nothing. It’s just pathetic, that’s all.”

That got my attention. My expression hardened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He stepped closer, blue eyes dark with something like frustration, like anger he didn’t know what to do with. “You walk around like the world owes you something just because you’re pretty. You push people away, treat them like they don’t matter, like they’re just…background noise to your little show.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, but he wasn’t done.

“You know,” he said, voice lower now but still sharp, still laced with something bitter, “just cuz you’re beautiful, that doesn’t mean you can treat people like they don’t matter.”

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a response. Because for the first time, someone wasn’t playing my game.