“No,” Chyna said icily. “You got the dress. I got the boxes of goodies you shipped me. I got everything! The answer is f**k no.”
Chyna had called Lexi one day last fall, crying her eyes out over a box from Marco that had shown up at her house. Apparently, it had every article of clothing she had ever worn at a shoot for him, every sex tape, all of the rolls of pictures, and then everything she had left in Milan. The only thing missing had been the million-dollar dress.
Two weeks later, a giant desk had shown up in her apartment. Chyna had thought that Frederick had it imported without her knowledge, but then she had realized that, in fact, it was from Milan. It was a desk from the dressing room in the opera house where she had been the star of a gala. Lexi didn’t want to know how much that had cost. The guy was f**king crazy.
Lexi hadn’t really wanted to know the next part, but a nude picture of Chyna had shown up at her doorstop every Friday for three months. But as far as Lexi knew, Chyna had never actually spoken with Marco. Then, in March, everything had just stopped, and Chyna hadn’t heard from him again…until now.
“I don’t give a shit about fashion week. I don’t give a shit about your f**king company. I left you, remember? And then, you f**ked me over. Even Corsa, who had already offered me a job, rescinded her offer…so f**k you, Marco. Go f**k with someone else’s life. It looks like Ravenna is enjoying it,” Chyna said, throwing out the name of the girl that Marco had replaced her with.
There was silence for another minute.
“No. I’m done with this conversation. I don’t care if you say you’ll lift the blacklist, you motherfucker. I will never work for you again—not at fashion week, not in Milan, not anywhere. Get it through your head, and stop acting so desperate,” she growled out.
Then, she pressed the End button and tossed the phone back on the table. She was still standing…and she was shaking. Lexi didn’t know if she was shaking from rage or embarrassment or sadness because she’d had to give up her career a second time over the same man.
“Chyna,” Lexi said softly, reaching out to try to comfort her friend.
“What’s going on?” John asked, appearing at that moment with a wary expression on his face and the girls’ drinks in his hands.
“That motherfucker messed with my buzz,” she growled. “Gimme.”
She reached her hand out for the dirty martini in John’s hand, and he promptly offered up.
“I’m going to need like ten more of these. ’Kay, thanks.”
“Chyna,” Adam said gingerly, standing next to her.
Chyna had already started downing her drink.
“What was that all about?”
He plucked the drink out of her hand, and she glared at him.
Lexi was pretty sure they both knew what that had been about. Chyna had made it pretty clear while shouting back at Marco. Luckily, the club was packed, and the VIP lounge was equally as crowded. Only a few people had stared over at them while Chyna had berated Marco for calling her.
“Run along for another drink,” Chyna said, shooing John.
He stared defiantly back at her, like there was no way he was going to do her bidding.
“Chyna, talk to me,” Adam said. He rubbed his hand along the small of her back and kissed her shoulder lightly.
It must be rough, dating someone like Chyna—explosive, a little too stubborn, a lot too strong-willed with the tendency to drink, exaggerate, and be dramatic.
“Marco asked me to be the star of his fashion week show. He’s coming to the States to oversee his Fifth Avenue boutique and begin production for the new line.”
“Why now?” Adam asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was too busy screaming at him.”
“What does he gain from giving you a job and taking you off the blacklist a year later? It doesn’t seem to make sense,” Adam said.
Oh no! Lexi saw where this was going. She was pretty sure Adam already knew the answer to that question, but maybe having Chyna admit it and getting it out in the open would help.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Chyna spat. She turned her head away from Adam and seemed to be staring off over John’s shoulder. “He wants me back. I’m the one who got away.”
“Well, he can’t have you,” Adam said. He grabbed her around the middle and pressed her against his chest. “You’re mine. I don’t care who the hell this guy is.”
“He’s actually a pretty nice guy. And he drives a Bugatti,” John said, placing Lexi’s drink down in front of her.
Then, he took the seat next to Lexi. She was determined not to be fazed by his nearness.
“And how do you know him?” Lexi asked.
“I brought his clothing company to the States from Italy. He’s a Global customer,” John informed her.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Chyna said, shaking her head.
Lexi saw that Chyna had known that, and she wondered if it had something else to do with why Chyna disliked John.
“Well, really, none of that matters,” Adam said. “It’s not like Chyna is going to be working for him anymore. It’s not worth it.”
“No, it’s not,” Chyna said wistfully.
Lexi knew how hard it had been for Chyna to give up the one thing she been pretty amazing at, and had also really, really enjoyed.
“Whatever. Maybe we should just get out of here,” Chyna suggested.
“Where do you want to go?” Adam asked.
“We should go back to my place. I’m sure we could get our own party together.”
Adam shook his head. “Why don’t we just take a walk? Central Park?”
“At night?” she asked, scrunching up her nose.
“We’ll stay in well-lit areas. It doesn’t close until one.”
Chyna shrugged. “You want to?” she asked Lexi. Chyna clearly did not care about John’s opinion.
“Definitely.” Lexi knew that Chyna needed to get away from what had just happened to her.
Drinking away her problems had always been her coping mechanism, but Lexi knew it wouldn’t really help Chyna. Maybe just trying to get her mind off of it would be better.
They finished their drinks quickly and then exited the crowded nightclub. Chyna’s town car was waiting for them. Lexi forced John into the front seat as she scooted in next to Chyna. John told the man where to drop them, and they were whisked away through the city.