Chapter 141: I thought I was your favorite.

I turn to Lysander.

"I’m done playing. Can we go do something else?"

He eyes me, probably wondering what I just told Florence.

I smile up at him sweetly, batting my lashes as if I’m the most innocent woman in the world. I even tilt my head a little, hoping the performance is convincing.

He stares at me for another moment, then sighs and drops his cards onto the table.

"Come on. Let’s head to my office."

He takes my hand and leads me toward another staircase. I follow, trying not to look too pleased with myself. I have no idea whether he’s amused by my little performance or simply decided it’s easier to give me what I want.

We have to pass the bar on the way.

Lysander turns to me. "Want something to drink? Before we go up?."

"Yeah. Definitely."

He guides me to the counter. The place is a little rowdy, crowded with people talking over the music, but the bartender attends to us almost immediately. He gives Lysander a respectful nod before asking what we want.

Lysander orders for himself, then glances at me.

"Something strong," I tell the bartender.

Lysander’s brow lifts.

"What?" I ask. "I’m thirsty."

He gives me a look but doesn’t argue. The bartender sets our drinks on the counter. I thank him, take mine, and follow Lysander to a small table tucked away from the busiest part of the bar. The music is still loud enough to vibrate through the floor, but at least we can hear each other without shouting.

I settle into my seat and lift my glass.

The drink burns pleasantly down my throat. I close my eyes for a second, appreciating the warmth spreading through me. I need it. I need something to help me forget the blonde dealer’s little performance, and the fact that my husband seems to attract women who think they can drape themselves over him whenever they please.

I take another sip.

It lasts about three minutes. Then the freaking bimbo from before approaches us.

The same one I caught sucking on my husband’s dick.

I recognize her immediately. The long hair, the carefully painted face, the way she walks as if the entire room should make space for her. She heads straight for Lysander and wraps herself around his arm, pressing her large breasts against it.

My fingers tighten around my glass.

"Hi, baby." She sounds delighted. "It’s been a while since I’ve seen you."

Lysander looks at her without returning the hug.

"I don’t see you anymore. Why?"

"I’ve been busy with work."

She says it as if I’m not sitting right there. She doesn’t even glance in my direction.

I shift in my seat, waiting for her to notice me. Maybe she’ll acknowledge the woman sitting beside him. Maybe she’ll remember that he’s married and decide to stop draping herself over him.

No such luck.

"Oh, please." She pouts. "It’s those times you call for me more. So what was it? Was it something I did? You didn’t like it last time? I can change, I’ll do more, I’ll do better."

She bats her artificial lashes at him. Then she bends slightly, and I worry her breasts are going to spill out of the red corset she’s wearing. I can practically see everything, right down to the edge of her nipples.

She has on a tiger-striped miniskirt, tall boots, and enough hairspray to make me wonder if she’d choke on it before she ever ran out. Her hair is puffed up around her head, and she’s standing so close to Lysander that I can smell her perfume from my seat.

I look at my husband.

He doesn’t seem interested, he doesn’t seem particularly annoyed, either. He just looks at her with the same cool expression he wears when someone brings him a problem he has no intention of solving.

"You just sucked my cock occasionally and allowed me to fuck your ass," Lysander says, his tone flat. "Were you expecting I buy a ring, go down on one knee and propose to you?. Or a honeymoon in France? Did you expect us to pop some babies?"

The bartender interrupts by setting another set of drinks on the table.

"Thank you," I say, reaching for mine.

I take a huge gulp, grateful I ordered something strong enough to get me through whatever the hell I’m witnessing.

The woman’s smile falters.

"I thought I was your favorite."

Lysander says nothing.

"But you never call me anymore." Her bottom lip rolls into a sulky pout. She bends a little farther, putting her breasts directly in his line of vision.

I grip my glass tighter.

"I’m off the market," he tells her.

"Till when?" she presses.

"Death and beyond."

His answer should make me feel better.

It doesn’t. The fact that he’s even talking to her makes me want to bash his head against the table and watch him bleed. Maybe that would soothe the hot, ugly feeling building in my chest.

I take another sip, but it does nothing to cool me down.

She leans closer.

"But you were married the last time you called me. We didn’t get to the part where you usually fuck me, and I’m craving that. Nobody does it as well as you do."

Lysander’s expression turns cold.

"I said I’m off the market. Get the fuck out of my face. I don’t want to ever see your face again. You won’t like me otherwise." His gaze drops pointedly to her chest. "And take your boobs out of my face."

I clear my throat and Lysander’s head snaps toward me, as if he momentarily forgot I was there.

That makes me even more pissed.

Why won’t he forget I’m here when there are big boobs pressed up in his face?

His pupils dilate as he takes me in.

"Rissa’."

Rissa my freaking ass.

His exchange with her reminds me of her existence, and of the fact that he brought her to our home and had his dick in her mouth in in his office.