Part 8 (1/2)

”Brigitte!” Giovanna yelled.

At the same time, Ravenna cried, ”Me, too!”

”I'm not showing it to you!” Chyna shouted, also standing in her excitement.

”So, you did make one!” everyone cried at once.

Chyna covered her mouth. She was laughing so hard. It hadn't seemed so funny at the time when they were making it, or when they had watched it after, or when they had immediately jumped right in between the sheets again because they were so hot from watching it. Now, standing there with Brigitte, Ravenna, and Giovanna, the idea that she had made a s.e.x tape seemed utterly hilarious.

Ravenna put her hand against the wall to steady herself. ”So, really, can we see it?”

”No!” Chyna cried. ”I'm not showing anyone else.”

”Ugh,” Brigitte muttered. ”At least tell us if he's good or not.”

”He's better than good,” Chyna finally relented.

”Natasha told me he was kind of kinky,” Ravenna said, straightening and eyeing Chyna more closely.

Natasha? Chyna didn't know a Natasha. They had worked with more than two dozen other girls this summer, but Natasha didn't sound familiar. ”Who?”

”She was selected as Marco's centerpiece two years ago,” Ravenna told her. ”I was a favorite, but Natasha was selected before me. I'm not really sure why. She wasn't all that spectacular.”

Chyna had never thought about whether or not this had happened with another girl before. To be perfectly honest, she hadn't cared whether or not he had been sleeping with other models while they had been together, let alone whom he had slept with before her. She was still getting the personal attention, and as. As long as she was still getting what she wanted-the modeling and the man-then she didn't care if he diddled half of Milan. He still came back to her either way, so it hadn't mattered. But, she was curious about this Natasha character.

”And, she said he was kinky?” Chyna asked, desperate to ask a different question.

”Yeah. I wasn't that close with her, but a friend of mine said that she'd tell her stories about getting tied up to some kind of furniture. I wanted all the dirty details, but Natasha was pretty tight-lipped, kind of like you. So, tell me,” Ravenna said with a curious expression, ”does he tie you up? And, what kind of s.e.x furniture does he have? I've been dying to know!”

”This conversation is getting a little out of hand,” Giovanna said, pulling Ravenna back.

Desperate to have answers, Ravenna had moved forward until she was mere inches from Chyna's face.

Ravenna swept her hand through her long red locks and walked around the room.

”She's a bit nuts,” Brigitte said, pointing her thumb at Ravenna. ”Running for two years off of hearsay.”

Chyna managed to laugh through her hammering heart. She wasn't sure why she was so worked up at the moment. It wasn't like it meant anything that Marco had tied up another woman to a s.e.x toy. He had to have had them for a reason, but it was something in Ravenna's eyes that had made her uneasy. She couldn't even place it, but now, all she wanted to know about was Natasha. Whatever happened to Natasha?

”What...” Chyna cleared her throat. She couldn't ask that question. ”What was she like? Natasha. To catch Marco's eye? If she wasn't that talented.”

”Oh, she's talented enough,” Ravenna said, waving her hand. ”Just took her a long time. Marco was obsessed with her, like he is with you. She was a bubbly blonde with short curly hair. An American. Guess you have that in common, too. Actually, I think the centerpiece was American last year, too. Don't remember her name.”

”What happened to Natasha? After they were together, I mean.”

Ravenna smiled, looking more and more true to the animal form her name was a derivative of. ”Modeling still, I think. I remember my friend saying she was pretty devastated when Marco left her.”

”Why did she get attached?” Chyna asked with a flippant air about her. She had been wondering that about herself for the past couple of weeks. She didn't care if he f.u.c.ked someone else, but she cared about him keeping her. Not even keeping her in the sense of a girlfriend by any means, but she wanted him to finger her irreplaceable. He needed her.

”How could you not?” Brigitte asked softly from a corner of the room.

”Yeah, I mean, I'm attached,” Giovanna whispered into the silence that followed.

Chyna looked over to Ravenna. Ravenna was too strong, too abrasive. No way would she feel attached, too.

Ravenna sighed, her eyes softening. ”That's the reason I'm back, isn't it?”

Chyna stared around at the three beautiful faces in front of her. Had she been in her own world so much the past two months that she hadn't even noticed everyone else's reaction to Marco? They didn't talk about it. It had never come up. Yet, here they were all feeling the same thing in varying degrees of obsession.

And then, there was Natasha.

Chyna didn't know what to make about her or that scenario. She hated the feelings running through her body. All she wanted to do was push them away, stomp on them in her high heels, and bury them six feet under. Was it terrible that she had thought she was special? Was it worse that she was disappointed?

The only time she had ever felt completely and singularly special was with Adam. Look at what she had done with that! Stupid Adam! Why was she even thinking about him today? That was the second time.

”I think I should get back to the party,” Chyna said, her strength returning. ”I have an Italian designer I need to speak with.”

”Just one thing,” Ravenna said, grabbing her arm before she pa.s.sed through the door, ”was there kink?”

Chyna smiled at her like she was a child. ”If you think tying me to a chair is the kinkiest thing Marco is interested in, you should think again.”

With that, she brushed past Ravenna and walked back into the ballroom. The room had started to clear out, but there were still plenty of stranglers binging on the free booze. Her radar went off as soon as she entered, and she spotted Marco with the same reporter from earlier. He was blatantly flirting with her at this point. Guess he wasn't coming for her after all.

She pa.s.sed a drunk couple who started discussing her dress behind their hands. When she looked over at them, they straightened as best they could and turned away. Apparently, whatever they had been saying wasn't pleasant. Even better.

She just wanted to go home-not back to her penthouse but back to New York. Her Italian tour was basically over, and she wanted out before she was completely jaded to everything that had happened. She preferred to look back on what had happened here with a smile, knowing it was her first real modeling gig.

A pa.s.sing waiter offered her a drink, and she graciously took it. She was being melodramatic about the whole affair. She had gotten nothing out of it she hadn't asked for herself. Who was she to think that Marco wouldn't discard her with a pa.s.sing fancy?

The champagne swirled around in her gla.s.s as she stared down at it, contemplating her predicament. Maybe she should just leave with someone else. She smiled up at the cute waiter who had given her the drink, and he smiled back. His cheeks turned crimson as her heated gaze landed on him. He would do just fine, if she had any interest at all, but she didn't. She hated knowing she could do better, and she let that small fact dictate who she took home. It never had before, but she had gotten even pickier since Adam. G.o.d, that man was stuck in her thoughts! They had broken up! Who cared what he was doing now or that Alexa had said he was hurting? It had been mutual, and he had delivered the final blow anyway.

”Whatever,” she mumbled, breaking eye contact with the cute waiter. She didn't even bother to acknowledge happiness that his face fell when he realized she wasn't going to approach him.

Chyna took another sip off of the expensive imported champagne and turned her attention back to Marco. He better f.u.c.k her right tonight. If she was being discarded, she d.a.m.n well wanted a consolation prize. But, she didn't see him. Had he left with the reporter already? No, she zeroed in on the reporter who now looked sullen in his absence. That b.i.t.c.h had been trying for some Italian a.s.s all night, and it was kind of comical that he had likely turned her down. What a tease. Guess Ms. Cupcake didn't cut it.

But then, where was Marco? Her eyes darted around the room for her man. Usually, she could spot him in an instant, but he wasn't there. If he wasn't' at Glam Ball, where was he and why had he left her?

Not finding him, Chyna's frustration got the best of her, and she left the main ballroom. The party was basically over. If Marco had, in fact, left the building, then it was officially over. Everyone else in that room didn't matter to her. If she wanted, she could get another job with any one of them without the proper introduction. But, she wanted the best, and she was going to f.u.c.king get it.

She stomped back to the director's office where her clothes had been discarded. When she walked in and saw that big f.u.c.king desk sitting in the middle of the room, her body warmed all over, and her body clenched up at the dirty thoughts running through her mind. He should have f.u.c.ked her on that desk. That way she wouldn't be so h.o.r.n.y and desperate for him to be inside of her now.

”a.s.shole,” she grumbled, coming around the backside of the desk. She reached out for her pile of neatly folded clothing, and on top of her clothes, she found a small envelope with her name scribbled on the front. She would recognize that handwriting anywhere. Her lower half pulsed as her imagination took off, but her heart also constricted in fear that this was the end. Would he leave her with just a note?

She opened the crisp white envelope and pulled out the gold-trimmed card stamped with Marco's logo on the front. Her shaky hands flipped it over and read the short message on the back.

Backstage entrance. Blue Bugatti. Don't think about taking off that dress.

Chyna wasn't sure she had ever moved that fast. She left her clothes, sitting discarded on the desk, and rushed out of the director's office. She turned away from the party and down the empty hallway, following the signs to the stage. A stray janitor gave her a suspicious look as she bolted past him, but he didn't do anything to stop her. Soon enough, she found the stage and the big sign indicating the exit. Without a backward glance, she pushed the heavy door open and walked into the back alley of the theatre.

As promised, a s.h.i.+ny blue Bugatti revved in the narrow street. The car was f.u.c.king gorgeous. Panty-dropping hot car! She licked her lips and cautiously approached the pa.s.senger side. The windows were tinted so dark that she couldn't make out an outline of the driver, but she could hazard a guess.