Page 67 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“Mmmmmmmm.” Hana’s moan is so explicit, it would get flagged on YouTube. “So divine! It’s… nutty and buttery and gooey—but, like… chunky.”
My stomach heaves.
That’s it. I’m going to vomit into this bowl.
And honestly? Nobody will notice. It’ll blend right in. They’d probably think it’s a garnish.
I set my spoon down in quiet surrender. “So what’s with the butler eating the dog’s food?” I ask because my mind needs the diversion.
“That’s billionaire safety protocol. He’s Muffy’s official taster. You know, in case someone tries to poison her. Only last week, there was this king—I forget which country, but somewhere with mountains—who almost died from an appetizer.”
“So the dog has bodyguards and a personal food tester. How relatable.”
“I know, right! That’s how Fiona was able to secure this place for the wedding. The king had to cancel, so Casa Cashmere had an unexpected opening!” she sighs. “Fiona is always so fortunate with things like that!”
“Yep. His near-death experience is our gain. Total stroke of luck that we’re all here feasting on bugs and bird snot.”
“Fiona told me that Gavin lets her eat carbs. He’s so progressive! My prenup requires one weekly weigh-in with the family nutritionist and includes a whole appendix of acceptable food groups.”
She shovels another spoonful of ant larvae into her mouth with genuine enthusiasm, and I have no idea how to respond. It just might be the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever heard. Should I be planning her escape? Slipping her the number for a women’s shelter? Is there a hotline for women trapped in dystopian marriages?
“What’s wrong, Pip?” Bryce asks, “I thought you were fearless.”
He nudges the bowl of ant baby tapioca looming on the table. It jiggles.
“I’ve done many questionable things in the name of proving a point, but voluntarily eating insect fetuses at a billion-dollar dinner party is where I draw the line.”
“I assumed you got off on dares.” His eyes twinkle with pure trouble. “I dare you to eat one bite.”
“Why would I torture myself?”
“Because if you don’t gag, I’ll stop correcting your etiquette for the rest of dinner.”
His relaxed expression infuriates me.
“And what do I get if Idogag?”
His gulp is audible. “Then we’ll have to spend the night exploring what else you enjoy choking on.”
Okay, who the hell spiked the water with horny juice?
You know what?I’m calling his bluff.
I steal the spoon from his hand without a word. The metal is warm from his touch, and God help me, I feel it everywhere.
I scoop up a wriggling pile, forcing myself to look. The larvae glisten and shimmy under the chandelier light.Nightmare fuel.But if this is the price for a night tangled in Bryce Sterling’s lap? Pass the damn salt. I’ll lick the plate clean.
Because the way he’s looking at me? I really hope he’ll make good on it.
I shove the entire spoonful into my mouth. It’s warm. Slimy. And it pops. SOMETHING POPS!
My whole body jerks. My shoulders stiffen. My throat convulses.
Chew, Petra. CHEW.
I can’t.
There is no way in seven hells I’m swallowing this abomination.
