Page 39 of The Sexy Enemy

Alessandro: You’re supposed to be on my side.

Nico: I’m your friend not your employee, I don’t always have to agree with you.

Alessandro: I’m currently watching her work.

Nico: You are fucked aren’t you.

Alessandro: I have to play the doting fucking husband because she told the world we’re in love. What else am I supposed to do?

Nico: Firstly, not sleep with her.

Alessandro: Next.

Nico: Secondly, remember she’s the enemy.

Alessandro: I fucking know she’s the enemy, but I’m in a fucked-up situation and I’m trying to make the best of it.

Nico: Touchy.

Alessandro: Stressed.

Nico: I’d say you need to get laid but …

Alessandro: Don’t you fucking say anything.

Nico: Wasn’t going to.

Alessandro: This entire situation is fucked up, but I need to keep annoying the hell out of her so she will convince her family to drop out of the race.

Nico: You might need to try harder.

Alessandro: No shit. Thanks for helping.

Nico: Anytime. It’s not like I don’t have shit to do other than help you with the messes you get yourself into.

Alessandro: Fuck you.

Nico: Have fun in Paris. Try not to fuck your wife.

Urgh.

Why are we friends?

“Okay, I can’t anymore. I need to know how the two of you got together,” Dom asks out of nowhere while we are on the plane.

I turn and look over at Natalia because we haven’t discussed how the two of us met. I know she gave a vague story for the magazine article but there were no real details in there. Natalia’s cheeks start to flush, she fidgets in her seat as she tries to think up a story that her friend is going to buy.

“Babe, do you mind if I answer?” I ask her. Relief floods her face as she nods in agreement. “It was a fair while ago now. I can’t remember what event it was, but I remember she was wearing this black and white evening dress. The back looked like a mini dress over this sheer white dress which was underneath. It was unusual and sexy yet also elegant.” Natalia stares at me wide-eyed as I continue with my story. “I can’t remember why, but I needed to get some air and walked out into the garden and heard two people fighting.”

“How long have you been fucking her?” I hear a female’s voice hiss in the darkness.

“Does it matter?” the male answers.

This is awkward listening in on a private conversation, but to be fair, I’m invested now.

“Does it matter that you’ve been fucking my maid? Yes, I think it does,” she sobs at him, hiccupping on her tears.

“Please, as if you haven’t fucked half the ballroom. I’ve seen the way men look at you.”

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