Page 97 of The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

That was when I noticed the woman beside him. Aleksandra Popova was even more beautiful in person, in a classy red evening dress and gold heels. She would be the perfect pin-up model. I’d even bet, behind closed doors, she’d embody the fifties housewife by serving her husband a glass of cognac on a silver platter, all while cooking a turkey and wearing an apron.

Her hand was on his arm.

I looked away, fighting off a sudden bout of heartburn. I frowned. I hadn’t even eaten much today while trying to fit into this dress. It seemed my health was always in question whenever Christian was present. That should be enough warning to stay away.

“Sorry to break it to you like this, Val, but it looks like your pockets are going to be much lighter soon.”

She glanced toward the door, and when she turned back around, it was with a smirk on her lips. “I’m not worried.”

Ricardo arched a brow, probably wondering how much of his money his wife had bet.

“I am warning you, though,” Val said, eyeing Aleksandra with worship sparkling in her eyes, “I’m about to fangirl really hard.”

I wasn’t sure which game this was, but I didn’t want any part of it.

While Christian usually regarded me with indifference or even distaste in public since the moment I’d met him, tonight, his stare couldn’t feel further from either.

Our gazes had caught more than once from across the club, but his remained even after I looked away. The heat of it burned through my skin like fire. His girlfriend stood by his side for goodness’ sake, yet every time he looked at me, he might as well have announced to the room we’d had unprotected, adulterous sex.

I’d been so sure that was something he wouldn’t tell a single soul, considering he’d always looked down on me like I was beneath him while parading one of his perfect blondes around. Regardless, I couldn’t afford to let anyone know we’d been together—Dick knowing was bad enough—because it would take little to deduce it had happened when I was married. And, dammit, that sin should stay between me and the Lord.

He was playing a game.

And I didn’t want to play.

So, I did what anyone would do: I refused to engage him and, instead, feigned complete enrapturement in my date. But it was all a facade. The minute Christian stepped in the room, I couldn’t focus on anything besides where he stood. The fact he had a hand on Aleksandra’s waist. The way it made my blood heat with something itchy and frustrating.

Valentina was hogging his date’s attention, fawning over her in a way that made me slightly nauseous. Had he slept with her? Did he kiss her? I looked into my drink with a frown, wondering what cocktail Val had brought me. Someone had been too heavy-handed with the bitters.

I was feeling a little salty when Val dragged me over to meet Aleksandra, so, naturally, in the act of balancing my attitude, my voice ended up an octave too sweet when I told the model she and Christian made a lovely couple.

I saw his gaze narrow out of the corner of my eye.

“Well, thank you,” she purred in a feminine Russian accent. “I must confess, you have the loveliest dress in the room.”

“I’m flattered you think so, though I’m sure some people would say otherwise.” I had the urge to flutter my eyelashes at Christian, but instead, chose to pretend he didn’t exist.

I didn’t even have to look at him to know he didn’t like it. He was twisting his watch on his wrist, once, twice, three times.

“Some people don’t know what they’re talking about. Your necklace—” She stepped closer to lift it to the light. “Isn’t it just . . . picturesque, Christian?”

“Indeed,” he said dryly.

“Where did you get it?” She blinked at me in a curious way, but there was something sharp like claws behind her eyes.

I tugged it from her grasp with a sugary smile. “Oh, just a little vintage shop in Rome. My first husband bought it for me.” I drew my finger down the charm like it was something special to me. In reality, I’d almost put it in my Salvation Army donation last month.

“How sweet,” she cooed. “First husbands are always so sentimental.”

“Oh? Have you had one?” I tilted my head.

Valentina watched the scene with fascination.

“Oh, no. I can just imagine—first lovers, first husbands. It’s the same thing, no?”

“I wouldn’t know. Unfortunately, mine were both the same.”

“Shame.” She pouted. “I guess I shall have to let you know.” I watched her fingers wrap around Christian’s arm.