Page 50 of Say It Isn't So

Bianca rolled her eyes, leaned over, and said in a low voice, “I never said any such thing. You’re clearly projecting.” Then she added, “As for Knox, I don’t know what he has to do with anything, but that’s obviously between you and him.”

Covering my face with my pamphlet, I looked at her and whispered back, “That’s right and you’d be wise to remember that. It’s Knox and I.”

A deep-V was etched between her eyebrows, and she angled her head. Her eyes darted between me and the catwalk like she wanted to know more, but also wasn’t sure she should ask.

I figured I might as well help her out since she obviously wasn’t getting it. So I explained, “In case you didn’t get the memo, honey, I’m fighting for him. If you think that I’m just going to sit back and let you take him from me, you’re wrong.”

She rolled her eyes and pointed forward, obviously thinking she was better than me.Righteous witch.

Maybe she was right, and this wasn’t the time or place, but she’d learn soon enough that I was serious.

* * *

Bianca

In my book, fighting for him didn’t equate to having him, so how could I take something that wasn’t hers?

She was making a pretty big leap there.

Besides, it just didn’t add up.

Knox and Rina.

Rina and Knox.

Rina, the self-absorbed diva, and Knox, the all-around good guy, who just asked me for a selfie, who had been flirting with me since the airport.

I shook my head. She was definitely miscalculating things.

Turning my attention back to the show, I decided we’d just have to wait and see.

* * *

Knox

Any normal man would’ve been fully immersed in the after-party experience, probably with a woman or two on their lap. You know, like the guy in the corner of the room, who was currently enjoying the companionship of two ladies as they hung on his every word.

Fashion shows were professional. For people like me, they were about making the right connections and getting both my name and the name of the publication I worked for out there.

But after-parties. . . they were made to socialize, drink, dance and relax. Basically, it was as laidback as it got, just in a fashionable way. See, everyone came dressed to impress, and I wasn’t talking street style, either. That was for the daytime. Tonight, I, myself, was wearing a designer suit. Most women took this opportunity to wear high-end designers, highlighting their sense of style and their best assets, if you knew what I meant.

I had to do a double-take as I spotted Bianca joining the party. She looked sophisticated yet sexy as ever in black, knee-high, lace up heels that had her painted toes peeping out. She wore a cream-colored dress that looked like a big cable-knit sweater but with a mouthwatering cutout on her stomach that crept up to just under her perky breasts and a zipper up the side. She had no problem dressing in a way that showed off her best assets, and I was a warm-blooded man, so of course I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. And naturally, all I could think about was the soft underside of her breasts that were just barely hidden by the fabric.

As she made her rounds, talking to the designer first, then influencers and celebrities that I had just finished talking with myself, all I could think about was when I’d get to talk to her.

But I was a patient man, I could wait.

Who was I kidding? With Bianca I’d been feeling anything but patient lately.

I’d also been feeling anything but generous. Like with these men and the way they looked at her. It just didn’t sit well with me.

I didn’t need the ability to read their filthy minds to know what they were thinking. Heck, I was thinking it.

Not that I had any right to.

But she felt likemyBianca these days.And there was something I’d have to unpack later.

“Hey, handsome, what’s got your attention?”

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