“I happen to be his fiancée. Ever heard that term?” I stare down my nose at her. “Google it, and then we can maybe talk about it.” Claire’s face creases with a scowl, but her friend points a finger at me. “You’re only his fiancée because he’s forced to. Arranged marriage. Google it.” “I did, and that’s how I managed to officially own him while all of you beg for scraps.” I stare at her then at every girl watching me with either mouths agape or malice in their eyes — or both. “If any of you threaten me, you won’t like how I’ll react. This is my first and final warning.”
