Abella stifles a laugh as she leans closer to examine it. “It’s…a little obvious. But that’s kind of hot. Angelo is a biter, too.”
“Please spare me,” Mariella groans. “And, Gabs, don’t stress about the mark. If Riccardo asks, just tell him you burned yourself with a curling iron. He’s dumb enough to buy it.”
They all nod in agreement before Val blurts out another question.
“Is he big?”
I nod a little too enthusiastically.
“How big?” She presses. “Are we talking he rearranged your internal furniture?”
Mariella rolls her eyes. “You know that’s not a thing, right?”
“Okay, Doc.” Val reaches for some empty containers on the table and lines them up from small to large. “I still want to know. On a scale of water bottle to champagne, where would he fall?”
“Why is champagne even an option?” Abella snorts. “I’m pretty sure thatwouldrearrange some internal organs.”
“Well, you would know,” Chantel quips. “Which, speaking of, that’s a good point of reference, since we saw Angelo’s monster cock by accident. Is it that big?”
My face heats as I remember the day we stumbled upon that scene in the garden where Abella was on her knees giving Angelo a blow job. She’s never lived it down.
“It’s probably around the same size,” I admit.
“Okay, can we please stop talking about my husband’s cock?” Abella groans. “I’d rather forget that ever happened.”
“Yes, thank you,” Mariella chimes in.
Chantel takes it upon herself to change the topic. “I have a secret to spill too.”
“What kind of secret?” Val perks up.
“The admiring kind.” Chantel leans back and sips her mimosa.
“Like a secret admirer?” Abella asks.
“Yep. He sent me a cryptic message. 'You don’t know me yet…but you will.'”
“Okay, that sounds creepy as hell.” Mariella frowns. “Are you sure he’s not a stalker?”
“It’s probably just someone who saw one of my performances. It happens from time to time. Usually, they ask me out face to face, but there are always outliers.”
“And what does Lord Dickhead have to say about this?” Val asks.
Chantel rolls her eyes at the nickname. “At the moment, he’s not a dickhead. Things have been good between us, and I don’t concern him with my business at the club.”
“He stood you up the last time you mentioned him,” Val reminds her.
“He didn’t stand me up. He let me know he couldn’t make it. He’s been busy with work, but we’re going on vacation together in a few weeks.”
“Leave it to you to find the ultimate asshole and think, I can change him,” Mariella teases.
“I’ll never understand how such a confident, beautiful woman would let a guy like that jerk you around,” Val says.
“It’s called trauma.” Chantel makes light of it, but we all know it isn’t a joke. She’s been through a lot, and I doubt we’ve barely scratched the surface of it.
“Besides.” She wipes a smudge off her glossy red nail. “I’m not looking for someone to save me. I can stand on my own two feet.”
A few of us share a look. We all know Chantel has a hard time being vulnerable. She’s hyper-independent, and she acts like nothing bothers her and nobody can really hurt her. But deep down, I think she’s just trying to protect herself.
