Page 45 of The Vegas Lie

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Page 45 of The Vegas Lie

Estelle, the daughter of her mother’s second cousin—twice removed—had been by her side since she joined the modeling industry at eighteen. They essentially began their careers at the same time, but based on the way things had gone, Estelle seemed to have been made for the role. However, even Estelle had expressed wanting to do something else with her life after she turned thirty-six at the end of the year.

Raina motioned to the robe. “Will I be clothed for the Elite Sports photoshoot?”

Estelle nodded. “Yes, it’s sportswear: leggings, sneakers, tops, T-shirts, jackets. We have the shoot today and one more on Friday. For the one on Friday, I set up a little surprise for you. Thiswillbe a long week, so I’ll add as much levity as possible.”

“What’s the surprise?”

“Raina, it’s called a surprise for a reason.”

Unfortunately, Estelle wouldn’t know how to surprise her with what, or who, she wanted most. She was the only person in the entire rented-out building who knew Lucas would not only be a good surprise but the best kind.

Evil man.

Somehow, he’d made her miss him.

Estelle had been in charge of her phone all day, so as far as she knew, he hadn’t texted or called. Unless it was an emergency, not even her family would contact her, knowing how busy she would be this week. The main upside was that the longer she avoided Lucas, the longer she could stay married to him.

“By the way, I sent those shots to Delilah,” Estelle said. “And I forgot to tell you that you received a text earlier from someone you have in your phone as Dr. Doom.”

If Delilah had received the pictures, Lucas might have seen them. They would be stitched and tucked by the time they made it online, and she wanted him to see her in all of her half-naked glory, stripes, flab, dimples, and all.

Ninety percent of the men she’d dated in the last five years were over the age of fifty-five. Not only had she been able to avoid love, but she’d entered the “relationships” toeing the line of “escort.”

No feelings.

No expectations.

No family.

Events only.

If they had anything negative to say about her body, skin, hair, or complexion, leaving was simple.

What she’d found most surprising was how often theydidfind something negative to say about her body. Foolishly, she’d assumed that since she was “the catch,” they would have accepted her as she was, but there had to be a secret website where men purchase audacity.

PerhapsAmazon.men.

Then Lucas entered the picture. Lucas, who made her heart delude itself into believing it was Luci Collins, Dominique Dawes, or Simone Biles whenever he opened his mouth or looked at her.

And heaven forbid he smiled.

The way she missed him, any sane person would have assumed she’d last seen him months ago rather than a week ago. Still, the last thing she wanted to do was mess around and be so authentic with him that if he accepted her the way she was, she’d fall for him harder than tungsten.

Had Delilah not mentioned that she would see Lucas today, she would have never sent that particular batch of photos. Her poor sister had only recently stopped running from the room, screaming with her hands covering her eyes, whenever the models began to disrobe.

Blaze announced that the set change was almost done and that he would be ready to start in five minutes.

Raina flicked a long gaze at the empty corner. Then she followed Estelle to squeeze into her next outfit—panties that would give Barbie a wedgie, a bra with cups only a half-inch larger than her areolas, and fishnet leggings with holes wider than the windows on a downtown high-rise.

“Stelle, I’m pretty sure these panties are cutting my labia into quadrants.” She wiggled, trying to adjust the fabric. “That’s why these are made to be removed almost immediately.”

Estelle helped her into a pair of heels. “Just a little while longer, okay? I promise.”

“I’m not blaming you, Stelle. I swear. I’m just hangry.” And missing a particular grumpy physician.

Estelle circled her, fixing stray hairs, microlink extensions, and snipping loose threads. “By the way, they got rid of the brat like you asked. Christian DeBonaire’s replacing him.”

“He’s doing Fashion Week?”




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