Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
When we got married, we made a deal.
He wanted my 36D body. I wanted unrestricted access to his Unlimited Centurion Black Card.
Once, while he was in the shower, a flirty text from one of his mistresses popped up on his phone.
I quietly put it back where I found it.
Divorce him? Please. In this economy, finding a man who’s well-endowed and good in bed is hard enough. Finding one who’s also generous with money is even harder.
Besides…
If I left him, where exactly was I supposed to find another poor sucker willing to give me a hundred grand a month?
My husband’s phone was vibrating on the table like it was having a seizure.
The newest text on the screen read:
Last night you were incredible. My legs are still shaking ;)
I stared at it, completely unmoved. If anything, I wanted to laugh.
Because my marriage to Adrian Sterling was, at its core, a business deal.
He wanted my face and my body. I wanted his money and his connections.
Love?
Could love pay my mortgage? Could it swipe an Unlimited Centurion Black Card to its limit at Saks?
No.
So I calmly set the phone back exactly where it had been. Then, out of pure kindness, I adjusted the angle so he’d see that glorious message the second he walked out.
The shower shut off. A moment later, Adrian came out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel slung low around his waist.
I had to give the devil credit. The man had assets.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, the kind of body that looked sinful even standing still, paired with that polished, elegant face of a man who looked like he’d ruin your life and send flowers after. A perfect wolf in bespoke clothing.
He picked up his phone, and his expression shifted—just slightly. Then he shot me a quick glance.
I was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, painting my nails without even looking up.
“What?” I said. “It’s just one of your little girlfriends sending a flirty text.”
His hand jerked so hard he nearly dropped the phone.
“Lana, baby, let me explain—”
I blew gently on my nails and said, almost lazily, “Explain what? That you ditched me last night to sleep with her? Or explain why the Victoria’s Secret set you bought her cost more than the one you bought me?”
I finally lifted my eyes to him.
“I’m more interested in the second one.”
He choked on whatever he’d been about to say. Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to be that direct.
I smiled sweetly and twisted the knife.
“Relax. I’m not mad.”
“As long as you double my allowance this month, I can even help you come up with excuses for her. Something like, My wife is frigid, we’ve basically been living separately for ages, feel free to fall deeply in love and write each other pathetic little love letters.”
The look on Adrian’s face was priceless. Like he’d just seen a ghost.
I stood up and patted him on the shoulder with grave sincerity.
“Honey, we’re adults. Let’s not do the emotional nonsense.”
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
“As long as the money lands in my account, everything’s negotiable. Next time, bring her home if you want. I can order takeout and buy supplies for you both.”
He went completely rigid.
I turned and walked away, cool as ever, a woman who knew how to leave after delivering a masterpiece.
Because these days, an ATM who was rich, well-endowed, and great in bed was a hell of a lot more reliable than love.
I stuffed a bikini into my suitcase while Adrian stood there with the kind of expression a man got after three days of constipation.
“You’re really going on vacation?” he asked.
“What else would I be doing?” I didn’t even look up. I casually tossed a box of ultra-thin condoms into my bag. “I’m making room for you two. That way if things get wild in the living room, I won’t have to stand by and hand you tissues.”
“There really aren’t many women as considerate as me.”
A flicker of surprise passed through Adrian’s eyes. Then that devastatingly handsome face of his twisted on the spot.
“Lana Sterling!”
“Yes?” I said brightly, zipping the suitcase shut. “Relax. I booked a five-star oceanfront suite. My best friend and I will have ten male models there to keep us entertained, so I won’t suffer.”
“You shouldn’t sit around doing nothing either. Try to get your little side piece pregnant by next month so I can start preparing a baby shower gift.”
He grabbed my wrist. His gaze darkened, his brows drawing together. “You really don’t care at all?”
My brow pinched for half a second, then smoothed out again. I smiled. “Honey, don’t tell me you’re jealous. Don’t worry, those male models out there could never take care of me as well as you do. You’ll always be my favorite.”
He let go of me so abruptly it was almost violent.
The tips of his ears turned red.
I nearly laughed out loud. This bastard really had the nerve to act lovesick?
“Lana Sterling, are you even human?” Sophie Bennett hurled a throw pillow straight at my face, righteous fury written all over her. “You actually used your husband’s money to order male models for me? That objectifies men, insults women, and violates every moral principle known to civilized society.”
I took a calm bite of my apple. “Oh. Then don’t come.”
She choked on the spot.
I kept going, merciless as ever. “Your dad pulled strings to get you that cushy job. Your husband’s family paid for your whole apartment. And last month you used your mother-in-law’s card to buy two Hermès bags.”
I lifted a brow. “We’re both grown women living off the system. Don’t act morally superior with me.”
Sophie ground her teeth. “…Fine. But I want the ones with obvious abs.”
That night, after I arrived at the resort, I finally saw the message Adrian had sent me.
I replied with a photo.
Ten male models with eight-packs surrounded me, pouring champagne.
Three minutes later, my phone buzzed with a bank notification:
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
[Adrian Sterling has transferred $5,000,000 to your account.]
I stared at the screen and smiled.
See? Men are simple creatures. The less you care, the faster they throw money at you.
I was sprawled across the sofa in a 24-karat gold face mask that cost two grand a sheet, with a glass of 1982 Château Lafite Rothschild within easy reach.
The doorbell rang.
I opened the door and—well. Would you look at that. A pure little white-lotus type.
“Hi, ma’am. I’m here to see Adrian.”
She was wearing a white dress, her long black hair hanging straight down her back, her eyes big and watery.
She looked like she’d crawled straight out of some angsty coming-of-age romance novel.
I gave her a slow once-over and sighed. “Such a pretty face. What a waste.”
Her expression faltered.
“Calling you a mistress would actually be giving you too much credit. If I remember correctly, you’d be Number Nine.”
Her face stiffened, but she quickly rearranged it into something fragile and pitiful. “I know this is hard for you, but Adrian and I are really in love.”
“Oh, spare me. I’ve heard this script at least nine times already.”
I lifted a hand to cut her off, pulled out my phone, and called Adrian on speaker.
“Honey, Number Nine came to the house. What flavor do you want tonight—strawberry or mint? One million each, paid upfront by wire transfer, totally transparent pricing. The second she pays, I’ll clear out.”
Adrian’s voice came through the phone, tight with fury. “Lana.”
I smiled sweetly at Number Nine. “See that? He’s excited. Can’t wait to spend the night with you. Unless you want to cover his fee first?”
Her face turned an impressive shade of green.
Adrian’s voice dropped even colder. “Stay home. I’m coming back.”
“Sure thing.” I hung up cheerfully, then turned back to the girl with my best hostess smile. “Want to come in and sit down while you wait? When he gets here, the three of us can play cards. If you win, he’s yours tonight. If I win, you both transfer me money. Sound fair?”
That finally broke her. Tears started spilling down her face.
“How can you be so shameless?”
I blinked at her in honest surprise. “Wait, stealing someone else’s husband is classy, but charging a little emotional-damages fee is shameless? Wow. That’s some spectacular double standard.”
She spun around, furious, and started for the door. I caught her by the arm.
“Don’t rush off, sweetheart. Since you’re already here, let me give you a little life advice.”
I lowered my voice and glanced cautiously around, like I was about to share a state secret.
“Adrian likes to keep cash in the second drawer of his nightstand. Don’t forget to grab it afterward. No need to be shy. I wouldn’t tell just anybody.”
She fled.
Actually fled.
I was baffled. Was she stupid? I’d literally told her where the money was, and she still ran.
Twenty minutes later, Adrian came home with a face like a thunderstorm.
I was leisurely painting my toenails.
“Where is she?” he asked darkly.