Page 64 of Lovely Venom

Cristian isn’t taken, so it shouldn’t bother me. He might be my fake live-in husband, but the entire reason the joke is funny is because that would never in a million years happen.

“I call dibs.” Tiffany smacks her lips.

“He’s sitting with four other women.” Kenzie points out. “How do you know he’s not with one of them?”

“He’s not,” Jackson supplies. “He’s here for Chantel. Word around the VIP tables is that you’ve been officially marked as Vitale property.”

“Oh, God,” I groan. “Viktor is going to blow a gasket.”

“It’s not good for business having a performer who might get customers killed,” Tiffany snipes. “I’ll be surprised if you still have a job tomorrow.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Kenzie shoots Tiffany a glare.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jackson reassures me. “Even Viktor isn’t dumb enough to piss off the Vitales.”

“You’re probably right about that,” I agree, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

I should have known Cristian would pull something like this.

Tiffany shoves her breasts up and fluffs her hair. “I’ll tell you what, Chantel. Because I’m a girl’s girl, I’ll do you a solid and loyalty test him. You know how men like that are. It’s better to find out now before you get too invested.”

Jackson snorts, presumably at the remark about her being a girl’s girl, and I use the distraction to compose myself. The thought of her with Cristian makes me feel nauseous, but it shouldn’t. It’s not my business.

“Do what you want,” I tell her. “We aren’t together.”

“It’s never going to happen.” Jackson rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Tiffany huffs. “A hundred bucks says I’ll have his dick in my mouth in the next twenty minutes.”

With that declaration, she casts me a diabolical little smile and saunters off as we all stay glued to our spots to watch it unfold. I should be prepping for the final act right now, but some twisted part of me wants to see what Cristian does.

Tiffany is about as subtle as a train wreck as she slides onto the seat beside him, leaning close as she tries to get his attention. But for what feels like an inordinate amount of time, Cristian’s gaze stays locked on me—and he looks pissed.

“Oh god, the secondhand embarrassment is killing me.” Jackson winces. “That girl is delulu as hell.”

Tiffany says something, and Cristian turns his icy gaze to her. Her smile falters briefly, but when he finally responds, she seems to recover.

“We need a lip reader,” Jackson grumbles. “I can’t handle the suspense. Is he into it or not?”

“Well, it looks like she’s giving him her number,” Kenzie observes.

Tiffany removes a slip of paper from her corset and slides it onto the table in front of Cristian.

“Does she just keep a stack of those on hand?” Jackson sounds equally fascinated and horrified by the idea.

“She probably has business cards,” Kenzie quips. “1-800-Mistress For the Night.”

“Savage.” Jackson laughs. “But painfully accurate.”

Tiffany rises from her seat and sashays back to us with a smug expression on her face. But of course, she keeps us in suspense until Jackson presses her for an answer.

“I don’t see you on your knees, so do you owe me a hundred bucks or what?”

“Oh, I will be,” she assures us. “It’s a good thing you aren’t with him, Chantel. I’d definitely give him an F for failing the loyalty test. But he’ll be an A plus when I get my hands on him.”

Satisfied with her performance, she barges past us and walks away.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jackson calls after her.