“It’s just a ball.” Chantel shrugs, trying to play it off like he hasn’t hurt her enough already.
“It’s a gateway drug, is what it is,” Lucia tells her. “Don’t let him jerk you around. You’re better than that.”
“If he does, I’ll send my brothers after him,” Mariella tells her.
Chantel laughs. “Cristian is his best friend.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mariella says. “I have five others.”
“Duly noted.” Chantel looks at me. “So can you help a girl out? I know it’s short notice.”
“I’ll send you my availability.”
“You’re a godsend,” she breathes. “Do you want cash or chocolate?”
I smile. “Like you even have to ask.”
38
ABELLA
“If it isn’t the Vitale queen, positively glowing with marital bliss.” Ares strolls into my office during my lunch break, his gaze roaming over me before it fixes on my abdomen. “Anything exciting to share yet?”
“Have you ever heard of making an appointment?” I glower at him.
“I’m a Stavros, Abella,” he says. “I don’t make appointments. I show up and tell people what I want, and they give it to me.”
“How nice for you.” I roll my eyes. “And what is it you want from me?”
“Measurements.” He smirks as he gestures to his trousers. “Do you prefer flaccid or erect?”
“You’re hilarious.” I toss the wrapper from my protein bar in the trash and wipe my hands. “Do you want my husband to murder you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Ares answers smugly. “He’s out gallivanting around with his boy Friday right now. What’s his name, Andrew? I take it that was your doing?”
I ignore him and grab my measuring tape while he carries on.
“Poor Genevieve. Whose dick will she chase now?”
“Maybe you should give it a shot,” I answer dryly.
He shudders. “God, no. Stage five clinger that one. I’d rather put my balls in a wood chipper.”
“As much as it thrills me to imagine that, I have a schedule to keep,” I tell him. “You still haven’t told me what it is you need.”
“Well, dear Abella, I’m going to give you the pleasure of dressing me for the masquerade ball.”
“What an honor. How will I ever contain my excitement?”
“I bet your husband just loves that mouth of yours,” he says.
“He does, actually.” I grab my notepad and tuck it beneath one arm and get to work, measuring his chest, shoulders, and sleeve length, pausing to jot down the numbers as he watches me.
I’ve known Ares my whole life, and beneath all the sarcasm and deflection, I know he’s capable of being a decent man when he wants to be. But he’s also Angelo’s mortal enemy, and by default, that makes him mine too.
I should have turned him away, but the truth is that something has been lingering in my thoughts since our last visit. A question I shouldn’t ask—or even entertain. But Ares can already see the desperation working its way through me.
“What could be weighing on that pretty little mind of yours?” he ponders as I measure his hips and waist. “You look like you have the whole world on your shoulders. But then again…I suppose you do.”
