Every time Shantell speaks or smiles, Judy, with the cheerleader delegation- who are seated at another table further down, shoots her razor-sharp, icy glares from across the room. It annoys me because Judy is of no importance tonight and should have been seated at the other table with her minions, not with Kai.
Judy looks at Sloane as though she doesn't belong here. The irony is almost laughable, because out of them all, and even in her sneaker-clad state, Sloane possesses more grace than all of them combined.
As the main course is cleared, Alpha Malcom leans back in his chair, swirling the gold liquid in his glass with a calculated air. Then, nodding in a way I see the older folks do when thinking, he sets his glass down with a slow, deliberate clink against the mahogany, and the ambien
