Epilogue Three-Giselle/Angel
EPILOGUE THREE-GISELLE/ANGEL
G iselle
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 woman plastered all over him, I had to leave.
I know we never put a label on whatever it is we’ve been doing.
But still.
I didn’t expect to see him with another woman.
Not after that whole macho fucking thing he pulled after I sorta tossed a glass of beer in his face.
For weeks he made me believe if I didn’t play along with his me Tarzan, you Jane bullshit, that I’d suffer the consequences.
Fine. I let myself believe it because the truth is I never expected anyone who looks like him to want anything to do with someone who looks like me.
I’m not ugly. I don’t have low self-esteem. But I am a realist.
My body is super curvy and ultra thick.
There is no excuse, like I can’t exercise or have some metabolic disorder.
I just like food.
And I am active. I mean I swim, I walk, I hike.
But what can I say?
My chub ain’t going nowhere.
But then there is Angel.
And Angel is a physical specimen right out of some dark romance novel. He’s six foot six and an easy three hundred twenty pounds of curved, spectacular, rock hard muscle.
And did I mention his face?
It’s gotta be kismet or something.
His name, I mean.
Because Angel Fury looks like a certified angel .
He is so handsome it hurts.
The dick.
He has light eyes, excellent bone structure, and full, 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.
Of course, the woman he was with at the Den was skinny and blonde and stacked like a supermodel.
I wish I could hate her, but I don’t even know her.
“Did you pick a color?” the manicurist asks, and I show 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.
I already missed out on my best friend having a baby and I feel like a fucking cockroach. But now, Anna has moved into a beautiful house in the fucking suburbs, and I am missing it all.
Not only that, but apparently Maria has gotten herself hitched to Luc and they are talking about having an actual ceremony and reception for friends and family this fall.
I am missing everything! And all because I am a goddamned coward.
“Would you like a real massage? Your shoulders look tense,” the same manicurist asks.
“Sure,” I reply and nod my head.
I didn’t know they did that. My eyes are still closed as I lean forward to give her room. It’s Fort Lauderdale and hot as fuck, so I’m wearing a cami and a pair of booty shorts.
Just like everyone else.
Big, warm hands clasp my skin and start massaging. And my eyes fly wide open.
I know those hands.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss and turn my head to find Angel, looking better than anyone has a right to, massaging my shoulders.
“Don’t touch you, Koukla? Last time I saw you, you were begging for my touch, remember?” he growls.
And fuck, I squeeze my thighs together in response.
“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, Koukla. But no worries. We’ll get that all straightened out on the way back home.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Darling, you can come quietly, or you can scream. Your choice,” he says, and he puts his lips right 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 the condo?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Yep. Hey, you think you can work fast?”
“Yes, sir,” the manicurist replies, eyeing Angel like he’s a double shot French vanilla Frappuccino with caramel syrup and whipped cream.
“Cool. Thanks. You, uh, want me to keep massaging those shoulders, Gorgeous? Or anything else? I’m always available for you,” he says, eyeing me up and down.
This prick.
I narrow my gaze.
“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.
A ngel
I’m not made for serious relationships, but something about this woman won’t let me leave her alone.
Giselle Vega.
The one who ran away. Literally.
I call her Koukla. It means doll or little doll , which is how I think of Giselle.
She’s short.
Much shorter than me.
And she’s beautiful.
Hauntingly so.
She’s got this body that just won’t quit. And her mouth. Her fucking mouth drives me insane.
We were messing around for a little while, and I thought we were good.
But something happened, and I don’t know what. Giselle ran, and I tried to stay away.
Really, I did.
I’m not the kinda guy who chases women.
But I’m chasing her. I just can’t help it.
I watch my little doll bouncing around in that massage chair and it’s all I can do not to toss her over my shoulder.
I’m not ruling it out yet.
She can spout all the pitiful lies she wants about not needing me or wanting me.
But I feel something every time we’re near one another.
And she feels it too.
Whether or not she wants to admit it.
The massage chair finally stops and Giselle opens her eyes and her gaze catches mine.
“Ready, Koukla?”
But I don’t wait for an answer. I just pick her up and toss her over my shoulder.
“Angel!” she says and hits my back.
It’s cute.
“Knock it off, Baby Doll, or this ride is gonna be a lot messier than you want,” I say and spank her juicy ass.
She stills immediately and I smirk.
This is gonna be fun.