Ruby Veyle stretched lazily on the cushioned chaise of her private balcony, the afternoon sun warm on her skin. A glass of chilled white wine dangled from her fingers as she typed away on her phone, bored out of her mind. Then movement caught her eye.
The little werewolf runt hurried out of the gallery doors below, cheeks flushed, steps quick and uneven. Ruby's lip curled.
Look at her, Ruby thought, eyes narrowing. Strutting about like she owns the place. Like she belongs here. A wolfless little mutt playing queen. She won't last a month before Derek tires of her.
She took a slow sip of wine, savouring the taste. "Pathetic," she muttered under her breath. "All that beauty and no wolf to back it up. He'll send her packing soon enough."
She was about to turn inside when the gallery doors opened again.
Brian stepped out.
