50. Roxie

Berlarot deserves an apology from me the next time we meet. From little seeds grow mighty oaks. In this case a furious, jealous, possibly unhinged oak in the figure of Rose who stood blatantly seething at Kate. That boring, stiff grey dress of hers meant business, as did the chunky black boots I could always imagine her kicking me with.

I had to shove my way to get a good view of the spectacle. I had merrily arrived back in time for breakfast, intending to claim I’d been for a run and instead found Kate mid-trial. It was like watching a strange, twisted dream come true.

Except my dreams at the moment still consist of me begging Alpha Dex to slam me over his car bonnet whilst hitching up my leather skirt. But you get my point.

That red dress was so not her style. Why on earth would she choose to wear that for something like this? It’s the morning, not a formal event? As she hugged her waist it only emphasised her cleavage. Bitterly I found myself comparing, did I ever look as hot i