*Isabella's POV*
The words hit me like a physical slap. It wasn't just an insult, it was a fucking attack. She saw me. She saw past the designer dress and the carefully applied makeup and saw exactly what I was: a girl from Indiana who didn't belong.
A wave of heat washed over me, and I suddenly felt self-conscious in a way that's worse than I was already feeling. My dress, the one I'd felt so confident in minutes ago, suddenly felt like a costume. The woman in front of me, with her white-blonde hair and a dress a little too fancy for a beach party, had just thrown the most terrible insult a Midwestern girl could want to hear when she goes to the big city. Not that I come from a trailer park, but the fact that she could recognise I wasn't from here... it really fucking hurt.
A hot, angry fire started to bubble in my chest. I wanted to show her just how trashy I can be. I wanted to throw my drink in her face, to say something so fucking foul it would make her perfectly sculpted face crack. But I glanced around, catching the flash of a camera from the corner of my eye. The press. This was Jacob's party. And I had to be better than this.
"So how exactly do you know me?" I asked, my voice dangerously low. The anger was a cold, sharp thing now, pushing past the hurt and straight into pure, unadulterated fury. I crossed my arms over my chest, a defensive posture, and stared her down.
She rolled her eyes, a gesture so full of practiced disdain it was almost impressive. "You're Jacob's new plaything," she said, looking at me with disgust, as if I were a piece of gum she'd scraped off her expensive shoe. "I swear, every time he stoops lower and lower. It's actually quite pathetic to watch."
She laughed, a dry, grating sound that made my skin crawl. "And who are you? Let me guess. Blonde hair, dumb eyes, and a collection of cliché insults in front of the toilets. You're some sad, petty ex, aren't you? Let me guess again. You're here to tell me that he'll dispose of me as soon as he gets bored, and all your other shitty lines?"
I took a step closer, my own smile now just as nasty as hers. I was done playing nice. I was done being the bigger person. "She's not an ex of mine," Jacob's voice boomed from behind me, sharp and irritated, cutting through the tense air between us like a fucking guillotine.
We both snapped our heads towards him. He was standing there, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with a cold fire that was fixed solely on the blonde woman. The look on his face was a mixture of anger and a deep, protective annoyance that made my stomach do a little flip. He wasn't looking at me like I was his "plaything." He was looking at her like she was a problem he needed to get rid off.
The blonde immediately plastered a fake, desperate smile on her face and launched herself at Jacob, latching onto his arm like a fucking leech. "Happy birthday, babe, I missed you," she purred, her voice a sickly sweet sound that made my stomach turn.
My blood boiled. "You're pushing it, blondie," I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. "Do you want me to show you what this trailer trash can do with her fist?" I took a step forward, my hands clenching at my sides, but I noticed a slow, satisfied smile spread across Jacob's face. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying me fighting for him.
"Jacob, do you see how she talks to me?" the blonde, Rhea, continued, completely undeterred. "How can you be involved with such..." she was saying when he cut her off, his voice losing all its playful warmth and turning into something cold and sharp.
You speak to her like that again and I'll..." he started, his voice a low growl, but he stopped, swallowing his anger in a deep, controlled breath. He was trying to maintain some semblance of control, but his eyes were burning with a cold fire.
"Who the hell invited you, Rhea?" Jacob asked, his voice dangerously quiet, his gaze fixed on the woman clinging to his arm. So that's her name.
"You did, don't you remember, baby?" she said, flashing a triumphant, knowing grin in his direction.
"Seriously? Who the hell invited you?" he asked, his voice dropping even lower, a clear warning.
"Uhm..." Jo-anne's voice came from behind us, sharp and clear. We all turned to look at her. "Jacob, she's not your plus one."
"Jo, what the hell?" he said, his annoyance now directed at her.
"She promised to behave, okay?" Jo-anne said, her voice laced with a weary frustration that told me this wasn't the first time she'd had to deal with Rhea's bullshit.
Jacob sighed, a sound of exasperation. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen with a practiced efficiency that was honestly terrifying to witness. "Yes, I need you here," he said into the phone, his voice leaving no room for argument then he hung up.
Several minutes later, two large, discreetly dressed men in suits approached us. "Please escort Miss Andrews outside," Jacob said, his voice flat and devoid of all emotion.
"Jacob, you can't do this! I'm not a criminal to be escorted out by the police!" Rhea protested, her voice rising in panic, her perfectly composed facade finally cracking.
"They're just security, not police," he said, his eyes as cold as ice as he stared her down. "And you deserve way worse."
The air was still thick with the lingering stench of Rhea's bullshit. I watched Jacob's jaw tighten, his eyes following her until she was swallowed by the crowd. For a second, I thought he was going to go after her, and a weird, unwelcome pang of something… not jealousy, fuck no it was deeper than jealousy. But then he turned, his entire focus zeroing in on me. The thumping bass of the party, the sea of faces, it all just faded into a dull, background hum.