by E. C. Land
“You’re married?” At the question, I freeze, knowing whose voice it is.
Shit.
I turn and catch Corentina with wide eyes and a pained expression on her face. She shakes her head slightly in disbelief and takes a step back. “Tell me you’re joking,” she asks of me, but I can’t lie to her.
“It’s complicated, but I promise I’ll explain everything.”
She scoffs and shuts her eyes the second I finish speaking. I know what she’s thinking, this is what men who cheat say, but I’m not in a situation like another would be in. This is quite different, and if she gives me a chance to speak, she’ll understand it soon enough.
Corentina opens her eyes, and I can tell from how glassy they are that she’s about to cry. Fuck, I’ve disappointed her. I start to open my mouth, but she speaks and her bottom lip wavers. “Don’t even,” is the last thing she says before she runs out of Diamond Dancers.
Chapter Eleven
Corentina
I thought I heard them wrong, but I didn’t. Félix mentioned a woman named Brittney, and all I heard back at the club was the word wife. Rémy has a wife and he’s been seeing me. He’s been fucking me. God, I feel like I’m going to throw up. I continue walking down the street and make a sharp right into the only coffee shop I see open. I need a dose of caffeine right now, and I need it stat.
I even doubted how perfect he’d been thus far, because with men, there’s always some sort of catch. Well, this is it. This is the giant red flag I knew he must’ve had. I get in line behind a woman and wait for my turn, unsure what to do with the knowledge I now have. The woman in front of me orders, pays, and moves to the left where the other customers are waiting for their drinks.
“Hi, miss, how can I help you this evening?” the barista asks me.
I glance over their menu and decide to go with something basic. “Can I get a medium chai latte with a bit of cinnamon on the top and a warmed cheese danish?”
“Certainly. That’ll be eight dollars and twenty-three cents,” the barista tells me as she presses buttons on her tablet.
I fish out my card from my crossbody purse and insert the chip reader. Once the lights flash green, she smiles. “Okay, you’re all set, and what was your name?”
“Cora, and I’ll be eating here if that’s all right?” I don’t know what time they close, but seeing as they’re in the inner city, hopefully, it isn’t too soon.
“Of course, go ahead and take a seat. I’ll bring everything out to you when it’s ready,” she tells me, and I head over to a booth. It’s tucked away in the corner of the cafe, but it’s right against the aged brick wall. Goodness, the architecture in New Orleans reminds me so much of my time in France and Spain. Since being here, I’ve done a lot of reading and it turns out their design styles were influenced by the French, for obvious reasons, and even the Spanish styles as well.
To my right there’s a watercolor painted flower on canvas. The canvas is older and isn’t white anymore, showing its age. Instead, it’s a muted yellow, not quite gold, but not bronze either. The vibrant greens of the leaves and stem pop, and then the petals of the flower are painted in a deep orange. It reminds me of the sunset in Bali. I flew out there a couple years back to do a private event for a multi-millionaire, and it was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a vacation. Before the show, I’d sat down on the dock and watched the sun disappear from the skyline. It was absolutely gorgeous, and one day I hope to go back to Bali and enjoy the beauty.
“Here you are, Cora,” the barista says as she places my warm cheese danish and my chai tea latte down on the table.
“Thank you so much,” I say to her, and she walks off.
I pick up my latte and take a sip, and it’s great, but it doesn’t comfort me in the way I thought it might. Why would it, though? Like, really? I found out the guy I’ve been seeing, the man I thought I’ve been dating, has a fucking wife. It’s unbelievable.
I’m such a fucking idiot. Closing my eyes, I take another sip and try to keep the emotions from coming through. I want to cry. I want to scream. But I can’t do either of those in a public setting. There’s no denying it anymore, I’m caught off guard by this entire situation, and it makes me detest Rémy in a way. Most of all, because he’s the one who put me in the middle. He’s made me the other woman, and I’m here struggling to understand why this is happening.
Upon opening my eyes, I run a hand through my hair, and a flash of blonde hair walking toward me makes me glance to the left. Sure enough, I see the devil herself—Ursula. I take another sip and put my latte down.
Ursula slides into the booth across from me and smiles. “Imagine that, I found you while I’m out on a stroll. How funny.” Nothing is ever funny with Ursula. There’s no such thing as coincidences with her. She’s like a falcon who stalks the mouse from above, waiting to swoop down and rip its throat out.
Tightness forms in my stomach, but I won’t show her I’m uncomfortable. I’ve had a bad enough day and it’s not going to get worse. “Why are you here, Ursula?”
She smirks and leans back in the booth. “What do you mean?”
Great, she’s playing dumb. Now I need to spell it out for her. “Why are you still here in New Orleans? We parted ways, don’t you remember?”
The smirk falls from her face, and she cocks her head to the side. “You don’t think I’d leave my baby sister behind in a foreign country, do you?”
“Save me your excuses. I can handle myself. I’m a big girl, remember?” My German accent comes out thicker because I’m growing a bit angrier. It pisses me off when she acts like she cares, because we both know she couldn’t care less. I’m simply an easy paycheck to her, and someone she can master manipulate into doing whatever she wants.
Ursula’s eyebrows furrow, and she feigns being insulted. “I would never leave you behind. You’re my sister. Why can’t you accept the truth?”
I’ve had enough of her lies, so I’m going to put an end to it right now. “No, you don’t give a flying crap about me. All you want is the money I bring your way, and now you’ve realized what kind of mistake you made. You’re only around so you can crawl back and get your easy paycheck,” I grumble, frustrated with her more than I’ve ever been.
“Easy paycheck? I made your career!” Ursula snaps, causing everyone in the cafe to turn and look at us. Employees and patrons alike are interested in what’s going on between the two of us.
“No, don’t even start that with me. You managed me, but my hard work, my talent got me to where I am today. You weren’t the one who broke bones, had your body screaming at you to rest, stayed up for twenty-seven hours straight to learn the last-minute booked routine in Istanbul. You haven’t made nearly as many sacrifices as I have, so don’t you stand there and act like you have. You’ve profited off my talent for my entire life, and I’m done. You aren’t my manager anymore. You no longer represent me, so you have no excuse to be hovering over me like some creep. Leave, Ursula. Just leave.”
Ursula scoffs and shakes her head. “You don’t mean any of this.”
“I do. I mean every word.”
“You’re ungrateful, so fucking ungrateful.” Ursula shakes her head as she walks away, heading toward the door, but she stops just as she stands in the frame and looks right at me. “This isn’t the last you’re going to be seeing of me.”
If she was trying to be threatening, she wasn’t. I’ve dealt with her my entire life. I know what the woman’s capable of, and what she isn’t.
Chapter Twelve
Rémy
The look of utter hurt on Cora’s face when she turned and ran out of the club will forever be burned in my mind. I never wanted to hurt her. This whole mess with Brittney is ruining my life.
“Sorry, Rémy, I didn’t see her,” Félix says apologetically.
“I know. I need to leave.” I start to slide out of my seat and go after Cora, when Julian comes up to me, a look of worry on his face. “What’s wrong?”
&n
bsp; “I found out where the three dancers are,” he hisses.
“Where?” I demand, not in the mood for anything else to go wrong.
“They went to a random party,” he says, holding out a phone for me to see. “Bexley was just scrolling through her Facebook while waiting for her next set when she showed me this.” Taking the phone from him, I get a good look at the picture. My mood shifts from pissed at myself to four of my dancers. The image shows not only the girls who called out, but the one who didn’t answer when we called her. This shit makes my blood boil. But it’s what’s in the background that really catches my attention.
“Tomorrow, call a meeting with all the girls. It’s time for their round of testing,” I state, handing Julian back the phone. All my employees know the deal when they start working here. You don’t do stupid shit that our clients can find on the Internet. You definitely don’t do fucking drugs.
When we shut down our father’s brothels, we made sure our own was filled with willing and drug-free women. My dancers are treated the same as Tristan’s girls. They’re all tested at random—any time, day or night.
I’m fucking done here.
Félix’s phone rings, and it’s Madelaine. What the hell’s going on now? Can this night get any worse?
Shaking my head, I head out of the club, Félix on my heels. “We need to get to the house,” he says, going to the driver’s side of his car. “Something’s up. We’ll talk at home.”
Frowning, I nod. Climbing behind the wheel, I start my car, put it in drive, and follow my brother home, the entire time wondering what’s going on.
Pulling up behind Félix, I park and get out. Scanning the street, I narrow my eyes on a little car sitting down the road. I know that fucking car, and the fact it’s there infuriates me to no end. I’m about to storm over to the driver’s side door when the vehicle whips a U-turn in the middle of the street.
Tossing my hands in the air, I stalk toward the house, and inside, I find Félix holding a pissed-off Madelaine. “What’s going on?”
Désirée is standing directly behind them looking just as upset.
“What’s going on?” Madelaine snaps. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. Your wife seems to think she can come into our home and make demands.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Is the world just out to get me today? First, the shit at the bookstore, then Julian giving me the news about my dancers calling out. This meant Cora went to work only to overhear my brother and I talking about Brittney. And that’s not even the icing on the cake, damnit.
“I didn’t even know you were married,” Madelaine snipes and looks to Félix. “Did you know?”
“Yes, I knew.” He nods in confirmation. “I didn’t tell you because he’s been trying to get rid of her.”
“Well, he’s doing a fine job of it.” Madelaine scoffs, directing her angry gaze back at me.
“Look, you wanna know? Fine, sit down, and I’ll tell you,” I say, expelling a harsh breath and crossing my arms.
Huffing, Madelaine takes a seat on the couch. Félix sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Désirée gets comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs next to the happy couple. Though, right now, she’s not too happy.
“Remember when I went to Vegas?” I ask, deciding to start at the beginning. Madelaine nods without speaking. “Well, I ended up getting smashed. I vaguely remember anything from the trip. The night everything happened is a complete blur. All I know is I woke up the next morning—married to Brittney. On the nightstand was a picture of the two of us with an Elvis impersonator holding up our marriage certificate.”
“Oh, my God,” Désirée gasps.
Ignoring her, I start pacing. “I told Brittney as soon as I realized what we’d done, it was all a mistake and wanted to get it annulled. She agreed and gave me her number, as well as the address to send her the papers to make it happen. I came home, and days later, she showed up acting like we didn’t agree to end the marriage. The papers had already been done up and ready for her. I gave them to her. Since then, she’s been fucking with me.” I spear my hands through my hair in frustration. “The latest? She’s claiming to be pregnant. I’ve told her it ain’t mine.”
“Are you sure?” Madelaine asks. Her hostility toward me is gone, but not her anger over the situation.
“Yeah, I’m sure of it.” I nod, taking a deep breath. I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling. “With how much alcohol that had to be in my system, I still would’ve wrapped up my shit. Even drunk off my ass, I would’ve remembered a condom. Plus, there were used ones on the floor next to the bed in the hotel room.”
“Ew, I didn’t need the visual,” Désirée squeaks out.
I lower my head in time to see her giving me a look of horror. “Yeah, well, you two wanted the story, so here it is,” I explain and go back to pacing. “Anyways, back to where I was. Brittney’s been making my life miserable. Showing up at the club, here at the house. I’m lucky she hasn’t shown up at my home, yet. Now because of her, I could lose my chance with Cora.”
“What do you mean you could lose your chance with Cora?” Madelaine demands, frowning and narrowing her eyes at me, but I sense her curiousness.
“Who’s Cora?” Désirée asks at the same time.
“I can answer that one,” Félix mutters. “We were talking, and I mentioned ‘wife’ at the wrong moment. Cora overheard our conversation, took off and left the club. Cora’s the new front runner at Diamond Dancers, the one from Europe.”
Désirée nods, now understanding things.
“Yeah, so, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go after her and hope to fix this shitshow that’s become my life.” I scoff, hoping to be done with this discussion.
Madelaine pulls away from my brother’s embrace and stands from the couch. “Rémy, can I make a suggestion?” I nod in response and wait for her to answer. “You’ve got a lot going on right now. Why don’t you stay here tonight? Give yourself and Cora a chance to think everything over. Then in the morning, go to her apartment. In the light of day, things are always clearer.”
Thinking over Madelaine’s words, I nod in agreement. She’s right. If I go over now, she won’t listen to me. Hell, she probably won’t even open the door.
I need to come up with a way to explain things without her telling me to get lost.
I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her. What I said at the restaurant about breaking my rules for her? I meant every word. I don’t want to lose what may be my only chance with her Not because of a crazy-ass woman making my life a living, fucking hell.
Chapter Thirteen
Corentina
Walking in through my front door, I sigh as soon as the chilled air from my apartment hits me. I shut the door and take a few steps, drop my keys into the bowl on the table in my hallway, and head into the kitchen.
I open the fridge and pull out a chilled wine spritzer. It’s something I haven’t seen in ages, but somehow, I was able to get it here in New Orleans. I went into a liquor store last week and found it in the imported section on a whim. Needless to say, I bought three bottles. I didn’t want to risk not finding it again.
I open the bottle in my hand and take a glass from the cupboard, pour it into the glass, and take a much-needed sip. Alcohol is the only thing that’ll make this day easier. Between the stuff with Rémy and my sister, I can’t win today. It’s already gone down the toilet, and I have no choice but to deal with it.
God, Ursula. The whole situation with her just makes me nauseous, makes me nervous but in a different way than how I feel with Rémy. But of course, it would be different. It shouldn’t be remotely the same. One is a lover who’s hurt me, and the other is my sister. She’s the person who’s always supposed to have my back, but in reality, all she wants is money. I don’t blame her for it, which might sound odd. We grew up poor, and I busted my ass to get out of the situation we were in. It was on a whim that burlesqu
e was something I did, and it was something I was phenomenal at. Meanwhile, Ursula had tried so many jobs that didn’t work out at that point.
I was the one who asked her to be my manager. I think I even said something about not being able to trust strangers because people were always out to get the other. Well, now look at me. I can barely trust my sister. I love her. Truly, I do . . . but neither of us would be able to deny that we’re toxic for one another. I know where I went wrong, though. I shouldn’t have ever asked Ursula to be my manager. I should’ve kept work separate from our personal lives, then at least we’d have a somewhat normal relationship. Maybe it could’ve even been where we saw each other a few times a year, and that was it. I know I’m daydreaming, but one day I want us to build up to that. Just because I told her to leave me alone doesn’t mean I don’t love her. She’s the only person in this world who understands what I’ve been through.
We grew up in a small village in Germany, and if it weren’t for our grandfather passing away and leaving enough money for the two of us to go to a good private school in Munich, we wouldn’t have ever left. Ursula and I were as thick as thieves, and she was my best friend. Everything changed after private school, and I wish it would’ve changed for the better.
I gnaw on my bottom lip and know there isn’t anything I can do to change the past. I end up going into the living room and snuggling up under a blanket. Before I know it, I’m gone like the wind into a deep sleep.
I awake randomly and sit up, glance around my living room, and stretch. I yawn and spot the glass in front of me. Bringing the cup to my lips, I take another sip of the fruity wine, and a rap comes to my door. My phone lights up, and it’s almost one in the morning. I wait for a moment, thinking it was my imagination before it happens again. I walk over to the doorway and peep through the sight hole. Well, I didn’t think he’d show up here.