Avoiding Intimacy by K. A. Linde Page B

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 passing 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 passing fancy?
    The champagne swirled around in her glass 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. God, 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 fuck her right tonight . If she was being discarded, she damn 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 bitch had been trying for some Italian ass 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 fucking get it.
    She stomped back to the director’s office where her clothes had been discarded. When she walked in and saw that big fucking 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 fucked her on that desk. That way she wouldn’t be so horny and desperate for him to be inside of her now.
    “Asshole,” 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,