I take the SIM and insert it into my phone. There’s already a message waiting. I respond, opening the door to what will probably be one of the stupidest decisions I’ll make, but not the most dangerous—that one relies solely on uncovering why Chiara is lying to me. Even if his messages make it seem she told him to fuck off, is it all part of a fucked-up plan to use me so she can get back at her cousin then run off and live happily with Alessandro like they planned all those years ago?
My stomach churns like I’m going to be violently ill. Has she been secretly meeting up with him the whole time I’ve been away? Impossible. Avery would have said something to me. Yet, somehow she managed to have contact with him and Avery was none-the-wiser. You would think I’d be better at spotting the signs of dishonest behavior having lived through one nightmare relationship. This new information makes everything we’ve shared feel tarnished, shining a light on how much I’ve fallen under her spell. I’ve been so focused on being the man she needs, I failed to realize she was keeping me in the dark the whole time.
Chapter Forty-One
The Finer Things
Chiara
“There she is!”shrieks Stella from where she’s perched at the bar in Le Sip.
I blow air kisses and wave like I’m walking the red carpet, really playing into the celebrity treatment she’s giving me.
I haven’t lost the shadow that is Avery. I told him I would be fine with the girls and to take the night off, but no deal. Instead, he’s taken himself over to a booth to give us some privacy.
“Oh my God, girl. Those boots are amazing!”
“Why thank you! Tyler the sexy cowboy gifted them to me for being his dance partner for the Cowboy Cha Cha,” I say, leaning over to hug her then Evie.
“You went line dancing?” Evie says gleefully.
“Well, when in Texas,” I say, doing a few steps of the dance.
“I need to see footage otherwise it didn’t happen,” says Evie.
I pull out my phone and show her.
“Umm, that man has moves,” says Evie, fanning her face. “And one hundred percent Riley Green energy. Something about a man in Wrangler jeans and a cowboy hat.”
Stella snatches the phone from me and zooms in on the video. “Umm, tell me after the PG version you did the R-rated Cowboy Cha Cha.”
“No, as easy as it would’ve been to mount him—I just…”Can’t cheat on my husband.
“Prefer to ride a broody, tailored-suit-wearing Italian stallion,” Stella finishes with a smirk.
“I mean, I do love me a tall, dark, handsome man in a suit.” I laugh at the image her description conjures.
“How was it? I’m obsessed with that show,” says Stella.
“It was exhausting and exhilarating! So much fun to see them in character for the show, styled for the different publicity shoots where they take on another persona, and then actually get to hang out with some of them as themselves.”
“Oh, Sophia will be champing at the bit to hear every detail. She always dreamed of being a photographer,” says Evie. “But the pull to be a lawyer was too strong.”
“Let’s be real, familial expectations had a bit to do with that,” adds Stella. “Though I feel like she’s finding career satisfaction in working this case against Arty, and I’m super proud of her.”
“I feel bad having a girls’ night behind her back,” I say.
“Ah, there is my little wildcat,” comes a new voice, the French accent instantly telling me it’s Juliette. I haven’t been to Le Sip or seen Juliette since that night we were here before the art show. My feelings towards her are a mixed bag. She was once the fuck buddy for the man I want to claim as mine, but also the same woman who told me to give him hell. So I’m somewhere in between love to hate her and I hate that I love her. More so the latter given she’s rounding the bar with an Amaretto sour, my favorite, and a big smile on her face like we’re old friends.
“The girls tell me you’re roommates with Mr. Grumpy,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “Did you take my advice?”And technically his name…
“To this very day.” I laugh and hop on the stool, taking a sip of my drink. “We’re currently in a roomies-with-no-benefits situation-ship.”Because he’s still in denial about being legally wed.
I feel like a crazy lady having an entire conversation parallel to the actual conversation and wonder if my face is betraying me.
“Please tell me you’ve sampled the goods at least?”
I feel my cheeks burn because I sure did, and while I have zero shame talking about my sex life, I feel like I owe my husband a little respect by not discussing his goods.
