Prologue Three-Giselle
PROLOGUE THREE-GISELLE
A lmost two months later.
I close my phone after checking out the newest images of Nico Jr. that Anna just sent over and I will myself not to cry.
Fuck.
Everything is so fucked up. I don’t know what to do anymore.
I know it’s stupid and weak, but after seeing Angel with that beautiful blonde stranger plastered all over him, I couldn’t just stick around.
I had to leave town.
For weeks, Angel made me believe we were an item.
The real deal.
Sure, it all happened unconventionally. I mean, I did toss a beer in his face, and he did kinda force me to play his girlfriend.
But somewhere the lines got blurred. I went from acting a part to believing it.
Maybe it was when he bent me over the sofa in his office, lifted my skirt, and fucked me from behind like a man on a mission.
Or it could have been when he drove me home later and cupped my face tenderly, kissing me until I damn near melted into a puddle of goo.
There was no audience either time.
Just us.
After that, our fake-relationship seemed pretty not-fake to me.
Angel seemed to like my super curvy and ultra thick body. And I sure as fuck liked his giant-sized muscular one.
Angel Fury is simply too hot for his own good. His face is perfection. Sometimes, it hurts to look at him.
The asshole.
His eyes are more aquamarine than sapphire blue, and I love them. Sometimes, they look almost white.
Ethereal.
Gorgeous.
Fantastic.
His cheekbones and powerful jaw are almost too masculine, but it’s all softened by sinfully delicious lips.
Seriously, I just wanna sit on his face for like hours with those things.
I have.
Which makes this so fucking hard. I wish I hadn’t tried to surprise him. I wish I didn’t know about her. The other woman.
But I do know. And it’s killing me.
It only emphasizes how little about the man I actually bothered to learn during our tryst.
Angel isn’t what I would call a sharer . I’ve never even seen his house.
Yes, we hung out.
Usually at the Vipers’ Den.
Yes, we fucked like bunnies.
Again, usually in his office, which, for obvious reasons, sported a huge bedroom.
But we rarely talked. And we didn’t do other things normal couples did.
We didn’t date. Or go out to dinner. Or meet each other’s families. Or, well, anything, really.
“Did you pick a color?” the manicurist interrupts my spiraling thoughts, and I hand her the hot pink I chose for my mani-pedi.
“Okay, this way. Would you like me to turn on the chair massage?”
“Oh God, fuck yes. Oops! Sorry, I meant to say, yes, please,” I tell her, and she smiles and nods knowingly.
She turns on the water and fills the foot tub, adding a blue tablet. I sit back in the chair and close my eyes, humming low in my throat as I try to ease away the horrible month I’ve had with a little self-care.
Missing all these milestones in Anna’s life makes me feel like a total asshole. She and Nico bought a house in the suburbs and Jr. is just on his way to take over the world already. Maria and Luc got hitched, too.
I am missing it all.
Just because I am a pitiful coward.
FML.
“Would you like a real massage? Your shoulders look tense,” the same manicurist asks.
“Sure,” I reply.
My eyes are still closed as I lean forward to give her room. It’s Fort Lauderdale and hot as fuck even in September.
I’m wearing a cami and a pair of booty shorts. Just like everyone else. But I still feel overheated.
Big, warm hands clasp my skin and start massaging. And my eyes fly wide open.
I know those hands.
Oh no. How the fuck did he find me here?
“Don’t touch me.”
I say it even though I want his hands on me. And the realization makes me mad.
I look right into Angel’s pale blue eyes, and I frown, hard.
Fuck him for coming here, looking better than anyone has a right to. And who does he think he is massaging my shoulders?
I try to move, but he holds me firmly in place.
“Don’t touch you, Koukla? You sure? Last time I saw you, you were begging for my touch. Remember?”
His words have me squeezing my thighs together. I’m already so turned on, just one touch and I’d likely combust.
“That was before I knew you’re nothing but a two-timing cheat,” I reply between clenched teeth and try to shake him off.
But Angel is impossible to move. And his eyes narrow like he is super pissed.
“I think we got ourselves a misunderstanding here. But no worries. We’ll get that all straightened out on the way back home,” he says, standing to his full height.
And it is impressive. Bastard just has to be tall, dark, tattooed, and handsome as the goddamn devil himself.
Fuck him twice for that.
“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Little Doll, you can come quietly, or you can scream. Your choice,” he pauses, pressing his mouth against my ear. “You know how much I like it when you scream.”
Then he licks my neck, biting down hard, before backing up and handing the manicurist a couple of hundreds.
“Don’t worry about your parents. I got your suitcase from your mother. She’s a very nice lady. Says she’s been wondering why you haven’t left to see Anna. Your father, too.”
“You went to my parents’ condo?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Yep. Hey, you think you can work fast?”
“Yes, sir,” the manicurist says.
“Cool. Thanks. You, uh, want me to keep massaging those shoulders, Gorgeous? Or anything else? I’m always available for you,” he says to me.
This prick.
“No thanks. You’re not needed here,” I say, arching one eyebrow.
I grab the remote for the chair and press the button to start the deluxe message.
Fuck this asshole.
I ignore him for the next twenty minutes. And yeah, I'm bouncing around the goddamn massage chair while my toenails are being polished, and I am waiting for him to walk away so I can text Anna or Maria, anyone who will sympathize with me.
But he just stands there. Watching me.
Stupid cheating jerk.
I try to close my eyes to block him out.
Two-timing shithead.
I fucking earned this pedicure and I'm going to goddamn enjoy it
Even if I look like a bag of Jello while the bulky massage chair does its thing.