Karma Doesn’t Sleep: The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 416

Ryan took a slow breath, and that flicker of hope he’d felt just a moment ago faded as quickly as it came, like the tide slipping away.

He almost laughed, but it was more out of frustration than anything else.

Why did he ever expect anything different from Amelia and her scatterbrained ways?

She was so close that a loose strand of her hair brushed against his neck, leaving a soft, tingling itch. Her perfume lingered in the air between them, sweet and distracting, sinking right under his skin.

Ryan’s eyes darkened, but before he could say anything, Amelia sat up and moved away, putting distance between them.

He watched her, her expression so open and clueless it was almost infuriating. He was just about to say something when Will’s smooth voice broke in, just a little louder than necessary.

“Sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Ms. Sadinton and Mr. Packman are just colleagues. Nothing more.”

Ryan shot him a frosty look, but Will didn’t even glance his way. He was talking to the host and the other guests, making a point to stress the words “just colleagues.”

Not even friends.

Ryan pressed his tongue against his back teeth, his gaze icy.

Alright then.

This is how you want to play?

The host clearly sensed the tension building at their table. He tried to play along, keeping things light. “Looks like I read too much into it…”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Suddenly, he felt a chill crawl up his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ryan’s not-quite-a-smile—a warning as sharp and cold as an ice blade at his throat.

Yeah, not messing with these two.

He forced a laugh and quickly moved things along. “Okay, next round! If your table got more than fifty percent right, please come up to the stage. Ladies, please follow the staff backstage.”

“Gentlemen, stay on stage. You’ll each be blindfolded, and your job is to recognize your partner by touch—just one hand, and you’ve got three seconds.”

He shot another look at Amelia’s table—clearly sensing drama in the air.

He added, “And just a reminder, only one guy per table on stage.”

Amelia pressed her hand to her forehead. Could this be any more mortifying?

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