Curves Envy 3 - Claimed By An Alpha: BBW Billionaire Romance (7 page)

“I’ve done many photoshoots with Bruna and I’ve seen with my own eyes how she plays men to her advantage. I’m not saying she’s not a beautiful curvy model—she is and she knows it. What I am saying is the reason she gets called back for photoshoots so often is because she’s not afraid of putting out. I’ve caught her quite a few times in compromising situations with photographers, representatives from the company who hires us, videographers and pretty much any human being walking around with a cock. The girl has no shame. In my opinion, she’s going to get him before the end of the night because she’s been hinting at it since we’ve arrived in Miami yesterday morning. I should know, since I’m her roommate. What Bruna wants, Bruna gets.”

God, please make it stop.

“I didn’t want to bring it up, but since Josephine let the cat out of the bag, I can share that Bruna cornered me earlier today and rubbed her tits all over me hoping I’d write the same kind of feature story as I’m crafting for Giovanna and Candy. I would have been flattered, but I caught her with her hands down the photographer’s jeans about an hour before she approached me. Frankly, she’s so obvious a blind man can see her coming a mile away.”

Jesus, this is my worst nightmare coming to life.
There’s no way I can compete against her—she’s a star in the industry and I’m only me.

“At least we didn’t have to deal with Benita being on set this time around. I’ve dealt with the double-trouble duo before. It’s excruciating.”

My head turns in Giovanna’s direction so quickly I fear my neck might snap off. “Who’s Benita?” I ask in a higher voice than normal.

“Her twin sister,” Giovanna and Josie both answer together.

Fuck, there’s more than one of them?
“I didn’t know she had a twin.”

“Benita’s super-popular in South America and she’s gaining popularity here. I’m sure you’ve seen her in ads for Tremendous Splash swimsuits,” Giovanna continues. “You haven’t put two and two together because they’re fraternal twins and not identical. Also, Benita dyes her dark hair blonde. This has helped her get bookings where she doesn’t have to go head to head with her sister.”

“Giovanna is right. The next time you see Benita’s photo in a magazine, you’ll immediately see the resemblance.” Josie’s words do little to comfort me as I rack my brain to remember the lineup of models under the Tremendous Splash brand. “Benita goes by her first name only, which is why you might not have connected the two sisters. She thinks she’s the Madonna of the modeling world. Whatever. Like Giovanna, I’ve also worked with both of them and they are indeed a nightmare. Here’s the other twist to the story—when they’re together, they never shy away from seducing men with the promise of a hot
ménage a trois
with two plus-size Brazilian bombshell supermodels. As they love to gloat, few mortals with a cock can resist such illicit temptation. To be honest, I know a lot of men who’ve bagged both sisters during an evening of debauchery where no kinks were off the table. Yeah, the Alvares twins are something else.”

For the love of God. Is there no end to this?

Although I haven’t missed one word Josephine and Giovanna shared, I still have my eyes glued to the dance floor, fearing the worst, and when Max wraps his arms around her waist and Bruna slams her tits against his chest, I lose all my composure. By the time she rubs her boobs up and down Max’s torso, I’ve officially had enough. I’m certain it would’ve been less painful if someone had poured a bucket of salt on an open wound than to watch Bruna grab Max by the back of his neck and crush her lips against his.

When the crowd roars with excitement, I concede defeat.
Maybe he’ll stick the butt plug he bought for me earlier up her ass while teasing her clit with the vibrator as he pounds her with his hungry cock. See if I care.
In an attempt to stop the agony, I turn to the trio still sitting at the bar with a proposition to allow me escape this hellhole.

I fist my right hand against my thigh to give me more courage. “There are tons of long black limousines at the front of the hotel. Why don’t we jump into one of them and go discover Miami’s vibrant nightlife? Why would we stay here and watch her make a fool out of herself?” To my surprise I manage to muster up a tight smile. I can’t believe I was able to say those words in a steady voice considering how fast my heart is beating right now.

My idea takes them aback at first, but Brian’s beaming smile lets me know he’s on board. Soon after, Josephine and Giovanna both jump to their feet, excited by my suggestion.

“Candy, let’s hit the town and let’s go find ourselves a few hot eligible guys, since Josephine and Brian seem to be so smitten by each other.”

“I wouldn’t be averse to the idea of sharing my bed with three luscious women. Perhaps we should skip the club scene and head directly to my room.” Brian grins from ear to ear and earns himself a slap on the arm from both gorgeous models.

I need to get the fuck out of here. Now.

Chapter 6

Just like New York, Miami comes to life when the sun goes down. My goal was to do whatever it took to erase the earlier traumatic scene of watching Bruna and Max embrace so intimately in front of hundreds of pairs of eyes, and if I’m willing to lie to myself that I don’t care, then I’ve somewhat succeeded.

After hitting six different high-energy nightclubs where we danced our heads off, where I flirted with any stranger willing to look my way and guzzled down probably more booze than I should have, Giovanna, Josephine, Brian and I are sprawled inside the limo like spoiled rich kids at the end of prom night on our way back to the hotel. The four of us are resting our heads with eyes closed against the seats until Brian breaks the silence.

“I wonder how many bottles are in the mini fridge.”

“Why don’t you open the door and do an inventory, Mr. Inspector?” Giovanna giggles and Josephine and I join her.

“From what I can see, it’s fully stocked and there’s enough to last us until we make it back to the Four Seasons.”

“Great. Can you grab me a bottle of white wine if they have one?” Even with my eyes closed, I can feel the shift of energy and I crack my eyes open. I’m met with three puzzled faces. I’m in such a cocky mood, I decide to ignore their stares. “What? Don’t they carry white wine?”

“They do. I didn’t take you for a person who could party this hard. Candy, you’ve surprised the heck out of me—in a good way.” Brian makes his confession as he folds back up with a mini bottle of wine in his hands.

I grab it and hold their gaze. “Don’t stare at me, get your own drink.” I twist the cap before taking a massive gulp, letting the alcohol burn away the memory of Max’s betrayal.

It doesn’t take long for all three of my party companions to follow my cue. Since we ventured far away from the hotel, our trip back gave us enough time to clean house. Each and every bottle from the minibar is emptied—we even take care of polishing off the bottles of water, and the mood inside the stretched car elevates with each sip.

At some point Josephine selects a playlist on her iPhone and suddenly the moving vehicle becomes a nightclub on wheels––there’s dancing, laughing, and Giovanna, who cracks us up by reenacting Bruna’s slutty moves. When we’re all tipsy, giggling in the back of the car and falling all over each other, the limousine comes to a screeching stop.

“Oh, my God. This was so much fun it should be illegal,” Giovanna chokes out, wiping the mascara running underneath her eyes.

“Giovanna, darling, you deserve an Oscar nomination for your rendition of dirty Bruna.” I burst into laughter. I’m way past the point of tipsy, as are my three partners in crime, but I’m still sober enough to feel a pang of sadness when a thought flashes through my head—Max might be upstairs right now with Bruna in his bed.

“Giovanna, Candy is right. You’re hilarious, girl, and I wish you were my roommate instead of bitchy Bruna.” Josephine is folded in half as she does her best to keep it together.

“Well, I hope for tonight I can convince you to be my roommate, Josie.” Brian’s unabashed confession earns him a few whistles of admiration from Giovanna and I.
The man has guts.

“It’s a good thing I’m already bunking up with Sarah, the curvy Texan model, and Candy is sharing a room with one of Mr. Keller’s top executives. You haven’t hurt our feelings by not including us in your sultry night of passion.”

“Since he’s writing an article on us, I think it’s a good thing he doesn’t know more than he has to, Giovanna. By tomorrow morning he’d have way too much incriminating information if we were to spend the night with him.” My witty repartee earns me high-fives from the group.

Hysterical laughter fills the limo as the door opens, prompting Giovanna and I to climb off the floor where we slid some time during our joyride. We hold on to each other for support as we make our way into the hotel and head for the elevators.

Luckily, we catch an empty car and we all cram inside, determined to keep the party going until we separate. Given the speed and the efficiency of this luxury hotel’s ride, it doesn’t take long for each of us to debark to our respective rooms for a much-needed rest.

Since I’m on one of the top floors, I ride the rest of the way solo and I can’t help but reminisce about our night of misbehaving in Miami’s hottest clubs. The morning after should be quite interesting to say the least, considering I have to be back on set at the mansion before nine.

Crap.
That only gives me four hours of sleep if I want to leave here by eight o’clock to arrive on time. I’m going to look like shit in the morning. I totter off the elevator with an unsure step and for the first time this evening, I curse my high heels. Unable to continue, I kick off my designer shoes and stroll barefoot to my room. When I get to my door I tuck them under my armpit to free up my hands to fish for my keycard. When I locate the little gold and white plastic card, I slip it in the hole and crank the handle to push open the door.
I guess I’m not nearly as tipsy as I thought because I didn’t even fumble, nor did I drop my shoes. Bravo to me.

My only saving grace is the fact my cousin Trish taught me how to drink. Without her simple yet astute formula, I would have probably ended up a blubbering drunk by now. As long as I keep the ratio right—one eight-ounce glass of water for every two drinks—I can avoid making a complete fool out of myself.
Thanks, cousin.
I’m still grinning to myself as I step into my hotel room, but I don’t linger in my festive mode for too long. I can’t, because Max’s frame is filling the hallway—his very tense frame.

As I focus on his face—the hard lines, the frowning eyebrows, the tight jaw, and those hazel eyes heavy with disapproval—I’m quickly reminded of what I must look like after a night of wild partying with my three accomplices.
Oh, shit. He doesn’t look happy.
I can practically feel Max’s irritation boiling off him despite the fact the room is air-conditioned. I instinctively smooth my dress and comb my fingers through my hair, trying to look semi-decent. I open my mouth, but he precedes me.

“Where the hell have you been all night?” His eyes are cold, his jaw rigid, and I’m suddenly aware of how furious he is right now.

I defuse his question by looking past him to spot Deidra. “Where is my roommate?”

“Candy, perhaps you didn’t hear me. I asked you a very specific question and I’m expecting a very specific answer.” He narrows his eyes in such a menacing way I take a step back. Just in case I needed it, I’m fully sober now.

“What’s it to you? Weren’t you busy doing the lambada with Bruna?”

Max’s eyebrows drop in an intimidating way as he squints at me. He doesn’t have to say one word. It’s clear he’s pissed off. My temporary victory is short-lived, his eyes piercing my brave front and erasing my smug smile.
This would be a lot easier if he didn’t look so delicious.

“Frankly, I’m surprised to see you here. I expected you to be lying next to the Brazilian model’s curvaceous body after a few hours of wild fornication,” I continue, determined to ignore his dangerous stare. I refuse to use the word “sex” because that’s what I’ve shared with him so far. I want to use a word so crude it can’t possibly be associated with any of our sensual interludes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I guess that last part hit a nerve. Good.

He must think because I’m so much younger than he is, I’m a complete idiot to the ways of the world. It was so blatant how much she wanted him and I’m pretty certain very few men escape Bruna’s claws.

“Oh, please don’t take me for a fool. I saw it with my own two eyes. You were eating her up like a beggar wolfs down a hot meal with your arms wrapped around her waist.”

“Did you get any help in concocting this far-fetched story or did you make it all up by yourself?”

His words sting so badly, I nearly bring up my hand to my cheek to soften the blow.

“Listen, Max, I get it. You’re a very rich and eligible bachelor. It’s normal women trip all over themselves to be noticed by you. Let’s face it, it’s not as if what we have is much more than…” Even though I know exactly what we share, I’m unable to say it aloud. I’m unwilling to put the words out there because I fear once I do, our mind-blowing sexual escapade may never amount to much more.

I turn on my heel and grab the door handle, ready to storm out of the room and escape this unbearable tension, but his strong hand slams the door shut. I’m trapped.

“You’re not going anywhere until we talk. Now turn around and please face me.”

I obey without any objections.
My God, he’s so pissed off.
I’m sure there is no other man who can command attention the way Max does, especially when he’s this upset. I glance up at him from underneath my lashes, connecting briefly with his stormy eyes before dropping my gaze and allowing myself to take in his casual yet outrageously panty-melting outfit. I guess he must have jumped out of his smoking-hot three-piece suit in favor of his form-fitting black tee shirt and these thigh-hugging dark denims.