Chapter Six: Champagne & Claws
The sky bled shades of burnt orange and violet as evening descended upon the city. Kimberley Monroe's heels clicked against the marble floor of Belladonna Lounge, a luxury bar known for its velvet booths, overpriced cocktails, and exclusivity. She arrived precisely at 6:30 p.m. — not a minute early, not a second late.
Heads turned as she entered, dressed in an emerald green bodycon dress that kissed her curves and declared war on subtlety. Her signature red lipstick marked the glass of Chardonnay she accepted from the bartender.
In the farthest booth, beneath a halo of dim lighting, sat Caramel — legs crossed, sunglasses still on despite the fading sun, and phone in hand. She looked up and grinned.
"Took you long enough, Ice Queen," Caramel teased.
Kim slid into the booth without cracking a smile. "You're lucky I didn't cancel."
"Oh please," Caramel said, removing her shades and revealing eyes lined with smoky black. "You'd miss me too much."
"I'd miss dragging people for filth," Kim replied. "You just happen to be the only one who does it better."
They clinked glasses.
Their friendship wasn't soft. It was sharp-edged, brutally honest, and laced with history. Caramel—real name Cassandra Adesuwa—was one of the few people who could call Kim out and survive. Former model, now a publicist with a Rolodex full of scandal and secrets, she'd once said Kim was born to rule or ruin everything she touched. Kim took it as a compliment.
"Spill," Caramel said. "Who was the victim this week?"
Kim leaned back, swirling her wine. "Some loser named Nathan. Thought one orgasm meant eternal devotion."
Caramel rolled her eyes. "Men are so dramatic."
"I told him to get the fuck out of my house. He actually looked shocked."
"Because they don't get it, babe. You're not a rom-com. You're a Bond villain with better shoes."
Kim smirked. "Damn right."
Their waiter approached with a charcuterie board and another round of wine. Kim barely acknowledged him — her focus was on the room.
"What's the real reason you dragged me out?" she asked, arching a brow.
Caramel took a long sip. "There's an event this Friday. PR gala. Big clients. Media. Fashion elite. I need you there."
"I hate those things."
"You hate everything. But this one's different."
"How?"
Caramel leaned in. "They want you to sponsor one of the charity scholarships. And... the press loves a cold-hearted CEO with a heart."
Kim rolled her eyes. "Touching. No."
"Come on. You sit through two hours of rich people pretending to care, make one savage speech, and go home with your reputation shinier than a diamond on fire."
"I'll think about it," Kim said, finishing her wine.
"You always say that before showing up in Versace and stealing the spotlight."
Kim gave a smug smile. "If I come, it's because I want to, not because I care about charity."
Caramel laughed. "Fair."
They sat in silence for a beat, enjoying the buzz of wealth and meaningless conversation around them.
Caramel finally asked, "How's business?"
Kim's gaze sharpened. "Maya from PR tried to challenge one of my ad campaigns. Said it was too 'aggressive.' So I promoted someone else and fired her."
Caramel didn't flinch. "Good. Weak women slow you down."
"She was crying when she left."
"And?"
Kim shrugged. "I told her I don't pay her to cry. I pay her to produce results."
Caramel smiled. "You're still you. Thank God."
The waiter returned. Caramel ordered dessert, Kim declined. She wasn't one for sugar — not unless it was laced with venom.
The city glittered behind them as the evening wound down. Caramel leaned across the table again, more serious this time.
"You've built walls so high, babe, I don't even know if you're alive behind them."
Kim's smile faded slightly. "I'm not here to be soft. I'm here to win."
"Yeah, but don't forget — even ice melts eventually."
Kim met her gaze. "Not mine."
They stood, collected their things, and made their way to the exit. Cameras flashed outside. The world wanted a glimpse of power, of poise, of perfection.
Kim gave them everything — but never too much.
Not the real her.
That part was buried deep. Right where it belonged.