Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding #2.5)(10)

“It’s not a big deal,” she said with a shrug, trying to keep her cool. She didn’t get the whole ex thing, and she was trying to understand it. She wasn’t a rebound.

She knew that at least.

“Fine,” he agreed reluctantly. “She moved to D.C., for a job as a lobbyist and didn’t want a long-distance relationship. It was mutual. Long distance doesn’t work.”

“Huh,” Chyna muttered, trying to take another drink and then realizing she had finished the whole thing.

Yeah, long distance sucked, but she didn’t think it was completely out of the realm of possibility. She had never considered it, but Alexa was making it work. It felt like a cop-out excuse.

“I’m going to get another,” she muttered, standing abruptly. “Do either of you need anything?”

John shook his head, and Adam just sighed. She took that as a no and walked to the bar. She knew that she could have flagged down a waiter, but she wanted to process.

Chyna waited for the bartender to notice her. It didn’t take long. She had another martini in hand as quick as the bartender could shake it. She wasn’t even sure why she was worried. This wasn’t like her. He wasn’t with Christina now, and that was all that mattered. But, her Italian roots were rearing their ugly jealous head at the most inopportune time.

She just felt too unsettled with having just found out about the situation, and she couldn’t regain her calm. So, she did what she always did. She drank.

With her back to the table, she didn’t see Adam come up behind her, but she felt his strong, capable arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against him.

“What’s gotten into you?”

he murmured softly against her skin, kissing her bare neck.

“I don’t like not knowing things,” she told him, melting easily into his touch.

“Christina doesn’t matter to me, Chyna. That’s why it never came up. I’m not hiding things from you,” he said turning her around.

God, he was so f**king sincere . How could you not believe that face?

He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers. “You look beautiful.”

“Don’t try and sweet talk me,” she said, brushing back against his nose. “I’m too susceptible.”

He chuckled, kissing her pouty lips.

“Come back to the table. I’m starving.”

“Caveman,” she responded, slapping his arm lightly.

“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder.”

“Oh, please do,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Adam laughed again, shaking his head at her. “Come on. I don’t get to see my brother too much. I think you’ll like him.”

If he only knew.

CHAPTER 3

PRESENT

After nearly an hour of detailed work on her hair and makeup, the artists working on her finally left. She stood in the office with that big f**king desk in nothing but sparkly nude pasties and a seamless nude thong. She felt completely exposed, and she loved every minute of it.

The makeup artists had brushed a fine glittery powder across her entire body, and it felt silky smooth to the touch. Her long black hair was hanging down her back, framing her face in big swooping supermodel curls. The makeup was totally natural, but it made her innate beauty shine. It was a look only a true expert could have extracted out of various bottles, tubes, and containers. All that remained was what hung inside the black garment bag.

Giselle sauntered into the room.

“What are you doing here?” Chyna asked her. She was sure that Giselle would have been trying to help Marco run the show.

“Marco,” she told her, walking to the black bag. Chyna rolled her eyes needing no further explanation.

“Where are my assistants? I can’t get into my dress alone,” Chyna asked.

“I am your assistant.”

Chyna’s mouth fell open. Giselle was so proud. She only worked for Marco specifically. That damn man!

“Well, get your ass over here!”

Giselle snapped her fingers twice.

Chyna hurried over to her. Why would Marco have Giselle help her into the dress? It wasn’t his style. As Chyna was about to ask, Giselle unzipped the bag, and Chyna’s mouth dropped open. That w a s not her dress. Her dress was long with flowing shades of purple sequins that draped artfully across her body in a pattern resembling waves crashing in the ocean. It was a one-of-a-kind designed just for her by Marco himself. It was crafted specifically for her body. She had practiced in it and completed a full photo shoot in the dress. She had never seen this one.

“I hope Marco knows what he’s doing,” Giselle whispered.

It was the first time Chyna had ever heard her doubt him.

Fifteen minutes later, when Chyna was secure in Marco’s new creation, she made it to the backstage area. Her dress was pinned and hidden beneath a long white robe that was embroidered with her monogram beneath Marco’s logo. Brigitte, Giovanna, and Ravenna flitted around her, anxious to begin the show. She couldn’t even address them. She was too nervous.

She had never been afraid of anything, but she had never been put into a dress like this with no forewarning and no practice for a production that was imperative to her career.

Marco’s introductory words rang through the speakers. It was immediately followed by a thunder of applause. He was a raw talent with a booming voice that was as soothing, seductive, and stimulating as a Siren. He was in his natural element, charming an audience.