Val: Call me crazy, but I’m still confident on my wager.
The text came attached with an article titled: Meeting the father . . . do I hear wedding bells in the near future?
God, I was so sick of her articles I wanted to chuck my phone out the window. I told myself not to read it, but in the end, curiosity got the best of me.
The picture showed a silver-haired gentleman, Christian, and Aleksandra entering the doors of a five-star restaurant.
He hadn’t come last night because he’d been with her.
My stomach tied into a knot.
My gaze settled on Aleksandra. She was thin as a rail, while I sat here in stretchy pants next to a half-eaten bag of M&M’s.
I got to my feet and stomped through my apartment toward my closet. Clothes flew over my shoulder as I tried to find something to wear. I grabbed a loaf of bread on my way out, but, when I opened my apartment door, it was like a nightmare come to life—all gorgeous, blonde-haired, six feet of her.
Christian stood in front of his opened door, while Aleksandra faced him in a flowy pink dress. She had a hand on his chest.
Both their gazes came to me.
Hers widened in surprise, then glinted with a challenge. She turned back to him. “Anyway, I just wanted to return your watch and say I had a great time last night.”
Christian was, indeed, holding his watch. The one he took off every night and set on my dresser.
He nodded curtly, his eyes still on me.
“Hope we can do it again soon.” She purred it while looking at me with a cat-got-the-cream smile. I hated her.
She drifted down the hall, and, feeling slightly nauseous, I turned to lock my door.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
Relief settled in my chest.
And that annoyed me.
“Didn’t ask,” I said.
“I didn’t even touch her.”
“Don’t care.”
“The clasp on my watch broke. I left it on the table at dinner.”
“Riveting.”
I was flustered, my hand was sweaty, and I couldn’t get the stupid key to turn in the lock.
“Gianna—”
I spun around with my bag of bread. “You called me flighty!”
“You practically let him fuck you up against the bar,” he growled.
“Oh, please. He barely touched me.” Was I really expecting a cold-blooded killer to be rational? “I don’t have to explain myself to you. This isn’t a relationship.
Just sex, remember?”
A retort burned brightly in his eyes, but he shook his head and held it in. “Where are you going?”