HIS STRIPPER, HIS WIFE novel Chapter 136

Chapter one hundred and thirty six
Brunca
“I get what should have been mine in the first place,” she said.
You were never supposed to be in the picture, Bianca. You know that as well as I do. So in case you have not heard this from anyone, I would tell you, whatever this is between you and Adrian, it’s not real. It’s not a path you really want to go. I’m simply asking you to step aside before you get hurt worse than you already will.”
I let her go on for a while about how she and Adrian had history, how their families had expected this for years before I came along and complicated things. She lied so well that I would have believed everything she said if I hadn’t heard the real explanation to everything that happened in the past.
When she finally paused to take another sip of her drink, I leaned forward slightly.
“Are you done?” I asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I asked if you’re done talking. Because I’ve been very patient sitting here listening to you explain my own life to me, and I’d like my turn now, if that’s alright with you.”
She shifted where she was sitting, “He already knows,” I said.
The words came out a little shaky, but I didn’t care anymore. “Knows what,” she said, though I could tell from the way her face tightened that she already had a guess and didn’t like it..
“About the club, about Velvet Nights and about all of it.” I held her gaze the entire time, refusing to blink first. “I told him myself, a while ago.” I said, which was a lie because Victoria is the last person I want to be narrating how I met Adrian at the strip club as my customer.
“He knows exactly what I used to do, why I did it, and he was there for me through it, not against me. So whatever you think you’re holding over my head right now, Victoria, it’s not the secret you think it is.” I added.
For a second she didn’t say anything at all, the lobby noise filled the space between us, someone laughing near the front desk, a suitcase wheel squeaking across marble, and Victoria just stared at me like she was trying to decide whether I was bluffing.
“You’re lying,” she said, but there was less certainty in it than she probably wanted there to be.
“Am I?” I picked up my glass and took a small sip, “Think about it logically. If you publish those photos tomorrow, what exactly do you think happens? You’re expecting some huge scandal, headlines, people clutching their pearls. But if Adrian already knows and already accepted it, then all you’ve really done is hand the public a story of a man who is madly in love with a woman enough to look past her past.”
“You expect me to believe that Adrian Delacroix would just shrug off something like this?”
“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” I said. “I’m just telling you what’s true. What you choose to do with that information is entirely up to you.”
She was quiet again, longer this time, her fingers tapping once against the side of her glass before going still. I could see her running numbers in her head, trying to figure out if I was calling a bluff or if I genuinely had nothing left to lose, and for the first time since she’d walked r into that lobby, she didn’t look so sure of herself.
“You’re very calm for someone whose life I’m holding in an envelope,” she finally said.
“Maybe you should act very calm too.”
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09:17 Thu, Aug 27 B ) U
HIS STRIPPER, HIS WIFE
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Her mouth curved but it wasn’t a smile this time,she reached for her clutch on the table, unhooking the small gold clasp slowly For a second, I actually thought she was about to pull out her phone or maybe even more photos, something to Rove she still had the upper hand.
Instead, she pulled out a folded piece of paper, plain white, no envelope, and placed it on the glass table between us, sliding it toward me with two fingers.
“Since you’re so proud of being calm,” she said, “maybe you should read that before you decide you’ve already won.”
I looked down at the paper sitting between us, my name written across the front in handwriting I didn’t recognize, and my heart was beating very fast efore I even touched it.
I reached for it, trying to move it closer but I sat back slightly and looked at Victoria properly.
“You know,” I said. “I actually feel sorry for you.”
Her eyebrow lifted immediately, the corner of her mouth twitching like she wanted to laugh at me. “Sorry for me? That’s rich, coming from you.”
“I mean it,” I said. “You sat here for almost twenty minutes explaining my life to me like I wasn’t in the room for it. You brought photos, you brought whatever is written on that paper, you brought your whole plan, thinking that if you just presented enough evidence I would fold and hand you my preference like some kind of prize you’re owed.”
“He was never meant to be yours,” she snapped, some of her composure slipping for the first time.
“Maybe not in your version of the story,” I said. “But this isn’t your story, Victoria, it’s mine. And it stopped belonging to you the moment we met.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but I was not finished, and for once, I did not care whether that made me rude.
“You keep acting like I did something to you,” I continued. “Like I walked into some perfect little arrangement you two had and ruined it out of spite. But you and I both know that’s not what happened.”
“Adrian is never choosing you after that divorce, not even when your family tried to force the idea down his throat. He’s trying to tolerate you and I hope you know there’s a difference between being tolerated and being loved, and I think somewhere deep down, you’ve always known which one you were.”
She was now frowning her face, it looked almost like it hurt but it vanished as quickly, replaced by that same cold composure she had walked in with.
“You don’t know anything,” she said, but her voice had lost some of its earlier bite.
“Maybe not everything,” I admitted. “But I know enough. And honestly, this isn’t even about you being cruel anymore. It’s not your fault that you’re sitting here trying to fight a battle you already lost a long time ago.” I paused again.
“That part I actually understand, what I don’t understand is why you thought coming here, to talk about an envelope full of old photos and a folded piece of paper, would somehow rewrite history in your favor.”
I stood up slowly, smoothing the front of my dress, my heart pounding but my face was giving nothing away. “You should go home, Victoria,” I said. “Sit with whatever this was supposed to accomplish, and ask yourself honestly if it was ever really about Adrian, or if it was about you needing to win something, anything, after years of losing quietly.”
Tru) Aug 1
HIS STRIPPER. HIS WIFE