Chapter 33 Telenovela Shit
Chapter 33 Telenovela Shit
(AURIANNA’S POV)
By the time Zayne’s gone, the whole house feels too damn quiet. I’ve changed into an oversized T-shirt and shorts, my hair tied up in a messy bun that’s hanging on for dear life. I’m curled up on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through my phone when Chelsea’s name flashes on the screen.
“FaceTime?” I mutter.
I groan, knowing exactly how this is about to go down, but I swipe to answer anyway. Her face fills my screen.
“Morning, Anna,” she says, smirking. “You look suspiciously relaxed for someone who’s supposed to be on a bodyguard assignment.”
“Relaxed?” I snort. “Chelsea, I’ve been through hell.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, do tell.”
“Please no.” I mumble.
“Girl, you can't just tell me that you've been through hell and not spill the tea. Talk.”
“Fine,” I sigh. “But you’re not allowed to scream.”
“No promises.”
“So,” I start, dragging a hand down my face, “the water in my bathroom refused to turn on. I figured, okay, there are about fifty rooms in this damn house, might as well borrow another shower, right?”
“Reasonable,” she says, suspiciously calm.
“I went into one of the guest rooms—at least, what I thought was a guest room. Turns out it was Zayne’s. I walk into the bathroom and—”
Chelsea’s eyes narrow. “And what?”
“And he’s just… there.” I throw up my hands. “Fresh out of the shower, completely naked… and fully hard.”
She lets out a dramatic gasp. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose.
She leans closer to the camera, her expression shifting from shock to straight-up curiosity. “Okay but, important question, how big are we talking?”
“I’m not doing this with you.”
“Come on! You can’t just tease me with that setup and not deliver. I need details.”
I groan, burying my face in my hand. “Chelsea, please, don’t make me relive that mental trauma.”
“Tell meee,” she sings.
I peek at her through my fingers. “You’re evil.”
“Ugh, fine,” I straighten. “He’s packing like… nine, maybe ten inches.”
Chelsea’s jaw drops. “Ten?!”
“Probably nine,” I correct. “But it’s not just long, it’s… you know. Girthy.”
Chelsea’s jaw drops, then she screams. Like, ear-splitting, window-rattling screams, so loud I have to lower the volume.
“Chelsea, I told you not to scream!”
She’s still squealing, fanning herself like she just got front-row seats at a Magic Mike show. “Anna, you have to hit that. At least once. For science.”
“Ew, no,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Absolutely not. I’m not trying to be one of his conquests.”
“Oh, please,” she snorts. “If I were in your shoes, I’d let Zayne Beaumont rearrange my DNA.”
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. “You’d let any man rearrange your DNA if he’s six foot tall, handsome, and has abs.”
Chelsea gasps. “That’s not true!”
I give her a bored look. “Really?”
“…Okay, fine. Maybe it's a little true,” she admits, grinning. “So what happened after?”
“I pretty much ran the hell out of there like a lunatic,” I say, sinking deeper into the couch. “I bolted back to my room, but the image was already burned into my brain. And then… I don’t even know what the hell got into me. I started feeling—” I wave my hands vaguely, “—you know? Needy. So I grabbed my vibrator and my dildo.”
“Wait, what?”
“And of course, he walked in on me.”
Chelsea’s scream this time could wake the dead.
“CHELSEA!” I shout. “CALM DOWN!”
“I CAN’T FUCKING CALM DOWN!” she yells back. “ZAYNE SAW YOU NAKED?! LEGS SPREAD AND EVERYTHING?!”
I groan, covering my face again. “Yes, and the worst part is he probably thinks I was doing it because of him.”
Chelsea laughs so hard she’s clutching her chest. “Babe, your life is literally giving telenovela right now! Forbidden lust, accidental nudity, billionaire employer. All you need next is a dramatic slap scene.”
“That already happened yesterday.”
“Oh, shit,” Chelsea laughs. “Right, I forgot.”
“It’s not funny!” I protest.
“It’s hilarious!” she says between giggles. “But seriously—think about it. If you can’t get him out of your head after seeing him naked, there’s no way he’s forgotten you either. He’s a man, Auri. He saw a gorgeous, completely naked woman pleasuring herself—he’s probably still replaying it on loop.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then pause. Her words actually… make sense.
“Yeah…” I say slowly, nodding my head. “You’re right, Chels. I shouldn’t even be embarrassed. He’s the one who should be.”
“That’s my girl!” she cheers.
I laugh and get up, stretching as I walk toward the kitchen. “Okay, enough chaos. I need food before my brain starts spinning scenarios I don’t need.”
“Peanut butter toast?”
“You know me too well.”
We talk a little longer. Her rambling about her latest mission, me pretending not to replay the morning in my head, before I finally hang up.
I set my phone down and ask one of the maids, “Hey, where’s the pantry?”
She leads me to it, and my jaw drops.
It’s massive. Like, walk-in closet size. Fully stocked shelves, canned goods, snacks, bottled water, and of course, bread.
So much bread.
“What the hell is he prepping for, a zombie apocalypse?” I mumble, grabbing a loaf and a jar of peanut butter.
I head back into the kitchen, open a drawer for a spoon, when I hear voices.
Female voices.
The sound’s coming from the living room.
Curious, I step out of the kitchen and there he is.
Zayne.
Walking in through the front door with two women on either side of him, all giggles and smiles, touching and rubbing their hands all over his body.
They head upstairs, still laughing.
My stomach twists, the jar of peanut butter heavy in my hand.
“Of course,” I mutter under my breath. “Of fucking course.”