Olivier placed a hand to his chest in a dramatic show of offense as his jaw dropped. A moment later he realized how he might look to be mocking the young woman and hastily shifted his stance, putting on a truly friendly smile. “Uh, well, I changed career paths a bit,” he stated as lightly as he could. “My brother’s friends with some people here. He invited me along.”

“This isn’t a conversation,” Dev said flippantly, acknowledging her very little to mind their neighbors. While it could have been easy to simply air the idea of Andrew Rutherford’s youngest princess being a—narco—it wouldn’t have done justice to how contrived it must have been for Yvonne to have been one for the Porto Velho Kings right under her families nose. He wondered, frankly, if she had a penchant for trash just like her siblings.

It was obviously that he was have a good night when he turned to her, “Am I wrong? Feel free to correct me; it’d make it a bit less dodgy, wouldn’t it?”

A quiet groan escaped her lips as Yvonne rolled her eyes. She wondered why he was even bothering with her with the Kings. Was he concerned? Just the thought was laughable. Would he tell her father? Inevitably, but then what did Dev stand to benefit from doing so? 

All roads seemed to lead to one conclusion -- he probably just wanted her to be miserable. Yvonne doubted it was anything personal. Given his reputation, making people suffer seemed to be the only thing he was good at. 

Lucky her. 

As she let his words sink in, Yvonne gritted her teeth, reluctant to admit that he had a point. “No, I haven’t gone back. Will you leave me alone now?”

Since arriving, Thomas had been trying to avoid his older brother he’d very reluctantly invited along, and Olivier had been trying to stick by his younger brother so he wouldn’t be a lone former French loyalist in a sea of Rutherfords and Russians. Eventually Thomas won out - and Olivier tried to make his way to the bar in the hopes of seeing a friendly face or at least getting a good vantage point to watch those around him. 

A particularly light-footed Nymph darted in front of him and another person that happened to start walking the same way. The Nymph thrust a tray with shots toward them with a warning that they wouldn’t want to pay the price not to drink. Olivier shrugged carelessly and picked up one for himself. Sensing an opportunity to appear non-hostile to the person next to him, he picked up another for them and offered it with a friendly smile. “Well, Happy New Year’s, I guess.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Yvonne asked point blank as she took the shot offered and shoved it in the hands of another passer-by for it to be their problem. Sensing the hostility in Yvonne’s tone, the Nymph excused herself to bother the rest of the party that wasn’t them. “You and the poodle you take care of aren’t invited here.”

YVONNE RUTHERFORD

“Hey,” Adriana leaned against the bar, glaring daggers at a fellow partygoer who was leering from a few spots away. “Can you piss off and stop fucking staring at me?”

She’d worn the outfit to be stared at, but now she wasn’t in the mood. Clearly, what the Vixen needed was more alcohol, maybe a line or three.

A familiar face came into view, a smile finding its way across Adriana’s face. Weaving through the crowd, she pushed and shoved anyone who dared stumble into her path until she eventually reached the person of interest.

“Baby Rutherford, Happy New Year!” Adriana threw her arm around Yvonne’s shoulder, doing her best to shout above the loud music that was playing. “Look, I have a question… did you happen to bring anything extra party favors with you tonight?” She hoped the emphasis on the word ‘extra’ would be enough to get her point across.

"You literally just saw me take a shot from your friend over there,” Yvonne was in the middle of bargaining with a particularly stubborn Nymph when Adriana appeared from out of nowhere. She greeted her with a large grin and a laugh, genuinely happy to have her company. For her to be here.

“Adri! Happy new year!” Yvonne shouted back as she leaned in closer to the side-hug, careful to not lean in too much less they both lose their footing. She let out a laugh at Adriana’s question -- amused at how game Adriana was to party, but also nervous for the same reason. 

Yvonne couldn’t shrug off at just how...well Adriana had been handling her mother’s death. She had always known Adriana to be strong, able to bounce back at any adversity with a ferocity. Was this no different?

“Have you seen what I’m wearing? There’s nowhere I could hide anything extra,” she pointed out as she nudged her friend in the stomach with her elbow.  Her attention turned to the Nymph in their company. “Think you can help us out?” The costumed waitress smirked before skipping away with a promise to return with something more interesting.

Amir: ...I never realised how harsh that sounds until now.

Amir: Though tbh, same.

Amir: Thanks, kid. Hope you're enjoying your party.

Amir: Is it as crazy as TWI says it is?

Yvonne: LMAO. She's lucky to have you, too, don't worry.

Yvonne: Eh, it's alright.

Yvonne: Kidding, it's crazier. I'm surprised there weren't waivers in case anyone drowns tonight.

Yvonne: BTW congratulations on your new hotel! I'd send champagne, but they used it all for the jacuzzi ☹️

@yvonnerutherford​

“Haven’t gone back to the Kings?”

Yvonne automatically stopped typing, the smile she had on her face disappearing quickly when she looked up to see who had said such damning words. As if it could be anyone else.

What a cruel joke, that the only person who had grown suspicious of her dealings with the Kings was the worst possible person outside her own family. Yvonne didn’t know what made her dread Dev more -- how he could ruin everything for her by going to her father, or how he seemed to enjoy tormenting her with that very fact.

“Haven’t found anyone better to talk to?”

Yvonne: !!!!!!

Yvonne: I SAW THE POST AND IM AKLGA;LKADLSK

Yvonne: CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU AND REVATI!!!

Odile settled herself into the chair at the cafe, the bags that she’d acquired on her shopping trip strewn carefully between one of the chairs next to her, the floor beneath her feet, and the table. The holiday shopping she’d been putting off had been the first thing on her agenda following her return to London, the realization that she could be spotted out and about before she announced her return to Laurent an opportunity that was far too entertaining to pass up. 

Just another way to get under his skin.

The barista took her order and she relaxed back against the chair, her blue eyes surveying the spoils of the day’s trip. “I certainly hope I remembered everyone… I absolutely should have made a list, but it’s too late for that.”

The barista delivered her espresso and she thanked him gently, a quiet shrug as the blonde smirked to herself. “I suppose if you don’t receive a gift from me, it’s safe to say you’re unimportant.”

Yvonne took notice of the blonde -- she was gorgeous, it would be hard to miss her -- when the latter took the table next to hers. However, the Rutherford would have moved on with her day without a second glance at the woman had the latter not began talking. 

Was she talking to her? Yvonne wondered as she looked around them to see who the blonde could have been speaking to. The absence of an answer prompted the brunette to flash a smile, however awkward, to the woman. 

“I'm sorry, do we know each other?”

“Anything for my little sister,” Damon opened his arms and enveloped the youngest Rutherford in the warmest hug.

“I can see how I might seem an old person to someone who was basically a toddler like an hour ago,” he scolded, “you might want to change your tune before I shove a pacifier in your mouth.” Having Yvonne here tonight had meant a lot to Damon. He knew the events with the whole Rutherford clan present, especially the one honouring Cerys, couldn’t possibly be easy on Yvonne. Determined to make her feel as much part of the family as other of his siblings Damon was, whether he was successful or not was another story. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m great and everything. Tell me how you’re doing? You owe me an afternoon tea, lady. Haven’t seen you in what, two weeks? Also, Eddie’s looking rather dashing tonight. You two still just “friends?” 

"Careful, my drink!" Yvonne warned when Damon came in for a hug. Despite her initial defiance, she ultimately appreciated the gesture and used the moment away from Damon's direct sight to drop the forced facade. She wanted to be happy for him, she wanted to -- that must be enough for now, Yvonne thought.

Yvonne held on to him for a few more seconds before she let him go, her smile returning to form as if without struggle. It dropped quickly however at being compared to a fucking toddler. “Why do you always make things gross?” she complained as she lightly shoved him away from her, giving him an extra judgemental look before she shook her head. Some things never changed, and she hoped it never would between them.

“Lady? The old person thing was a joke. You don’t have to prove me right,” Yvonne joked as she let out a chuckle. Truthfully, she just didn’t want to answer his question. Tell me how you’re doing? She couldn’t risk answering that without Damon catching her lying through her teeth. “And honestly that’s your fault. You’re always so busy. If you think about it, you owe me afternoon tea.”

The night was finally here. As Damon navigated in a glamorous sea of custom-designed tailcoats and gowns, he smiled affably at the guests, representing the 1% of the 1%. For a minute, he wondered where would he be, if the woman to whom he dedicated the night hadn’t had taken mercy upon him all those years ago. The best option? Maybe working as a valet. 

Yet, here he was. A Rutherford. As posh, obscenely rich and powerful as they came. Damon reached for the champagne flute passed in front of him, only noticing it post-factum that another hand tried to grab what turned out to be the last glass on the tray.

“Apologies. Please, take it” Damon passed the flute to the person standing next to him, “You have this one. I’ll grab another, I’m the host, after all.”

Admittedly, part of Yvonne was hesitant to approach Damon that evening. As happy as she should be, wanted to be for him for making such a touching and noble tribute to Cerys on his birthday, Yvonne couldn’t ignore how everything reminded her that they were a family before she and her mother came along. That they would rather keep it that way. 

Worst part was Yvonne knew it was selfish, knew it had nothing to do with her. That didn’t make feeling excluded hurt any less, only invalidated.

Perhaps the only silver lining was the fact she only needed to pay respects to Damon, who had always been the kindest to her. Even if she would always pale in comparison to Gideon and Lara, Damon at least treated her as his sister. It made scraping whatever high spirits she had in her easier as she approached him.

“Uhm, even if it was your birthday, I still would have taken this, but thanks,” Yvonne said, exaggerating the snootiness in her tone as she took the last flute.

Tonight the spotlight belonged to Damon. It belonged to the co-chairs of his foundation, Lara and Gideon. It belonged to their deceased mother, Cerys. The understanding that it might be uncomfortable for both Yvonne and Constance wasn’t lost on him, and Amir had glanced her way several times just to check. The young Rutherford was in high demand though; not unsurprising, given who her father was. When she finally seemed to have a moment to herself, Amir took a break from his networking and made his way toward the youngest of the Rutherford clan. The smile he wore was genuine. She’d always been too kind.

Whilst he mightn’t have been on good terms with the rest of her family, it’d take being utterly soulless to be able to hold it against someone like her.

“Well, somebody’s popular tonight,” he said in greeting. “I’ve politely waited my turn.”

The embrace wasn’t exactly typical white tie conduct, but he didn’t care.

“You look even more beautiful than your mother.”

@yvonnerutherford​

I’ll be fine. 

Yvonne remembered reassuring Edmund when she insisted he stay with the diplomats they were having a pleasant conversation with before her attention was being requested elsewhere. He had already done her a huge favor, flying from the US to London so that she didn’t have to spend an evening celebrating a family she could never be a part of miserable and alone. Or worse, with a relative stranger who would spend the evening comparing pedigrees. 

Edmund was a small saving grace in that he kept Yvonne from wanting to jump off the building to end the misery. The least she could do was have him meet people with connections to get him to where he wanted to go. Connections that his father couldn’t give him. 

Don’t worry about me.

She thought she could survive without him by her side for a while; she had always managed well enough at any other event. But this -- this was testing her. People from all ends of the affluent introducing themselves to her, congratulating her siblings through her, admiring a woman she didn’t know and she doubted they knew themselves. Each smile was harder to fake and each groan was harder to silence as time passed, with Yvonne doubting her decision to leave Edmund’s side much faster than she hoped.

As if life decided to give her a break, Amir made himself known and immediately the first real smile appeared on Yvonne’s face as she met his embrace with her own. “Amir!” she greeted, unable to contain her excitement, “You’re too nice, I hate it.” One tight squeeze more, and she let him go. “Like seriously, cut in next time,” she said in a more hushed volume before laughing.

“Okay, now you’re just fibbing. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long.”

yvonnerutherford: Have a friend who can pull through like @eddiewebb 

Yvonne Rutherford attends Damon Rutherford’s 33rd Birthday party: The launch of the Cerys Rutherford Foundation, co-hosted by Silas Agreste. –Friday, November 22nd, 2019.

@yvonnerutherford: Fashion Week SS2020 was such a whirlwind. Amazing as it was, nothing beats being back in London with this little guy.