“What the fuck?” It’s a picture from outside her house of Anabelle and I on her sofa on Christmas when I kissed her.
“Someone was watching us.”
“I’m not pissed that the press got that picture—it’s the accusations made. She hasn’t fucking learned her lesson.” It’s Malena’s Instagram page, where she claims I’m her baby’s father. I can’t even see straight. Immediately I’m on the phone to my lawyer.
“Evans. I need you to deal with this bullshit now. Don’t hold back the punches. This bitch doesn’t quit. I want her arrested and charged for violating the restraining order.”
“I’ll have her brought up on charges. I’m guessing this has to do with the Instagram post I saw this morning.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“Why ruin your holiday with your fiancée?”
“You’ve got a point on that one. Still, I want all of them to write a retraction and an apology to Anabelle.”
“Yes, Fabio. I’ll get right on it.” I end the call, seething. When I turn to Anabelle, she’s giggling. “Amore, I love you, but I’m not sure what’s funny about any of this.”
“I was just about to update our relationship status.”
“Oops.”
“Well, I’ll leave it to your lawyer. How about we drive back to your condo and then you give me all that pent-up, alpha-male energy coursing through you?”
“Did that turn you on, baby?”
“It sure did. So get back on the road and show me who’s your real woman.”
“You. Always you.” I head back on the road after adjusting my cock through my jeans.
“So, what are our plans after this? I know you’ll be working at your restaurants.”
“I’ll be in and out, but with the drama that she’s started, I might have an excuse to take time off after I show you off.”
“Sounds good to me.” I bring her hand to my lips, kissing it and then focusing on the road. We have a long drive to Buffalo where I live as well.
Once we end up on the main strip to my property, I get a call from my lawyer. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“She’s been arrested, given the evidence against her. She’ll be arraigned, but if she is pregnant, then you’ll need to take a DNA test.”
“I’ve never slept with her. What the fuck?”
“I believe you, but you know how it is. Actually, no, I don’t. It’s bullshit.”
“If I take a DNA test, it will look like we actually had a relationship, which we haven’t. I won’t do that to Anabelle.”
“It’s fine.”
“No. I have an easy solution. I’ll take a lie detector test. Set it up for tonight. I’m not in the mood to deal with this shit.”
“It can be done.”
“Get it done, and let me know where I’ll take it.”
“I’ll get it set up.” We pull into the underground garage, grateful the press don’t know where I live.
“I’m sorry about all of this, Anabelle.”
“I believe you, Fabio. You don’t have to do this to prove anything to me.” Her phone rings, and she says, “Sorry, I have to take this.” I nod.
“Hello, Ms. Smythe. Okay. Well, I’m sorry to hear you feel that way. It will be disappointing to lose you as a client, however, if you must know, it’s a lie.” She looks at her phone as she hangs up. Her phone goes off a couple more times.
“What’s going on?”
“Apparently, she’s found my company and has done a wonderful job of bashing me online and all the companies that work with me.”
“Baby, please don’t cry. We’ll get this all worked out.”
“I’ve worked so damn hard for this.”
“She’ll pay for it. Besides, I’m sure we can get you a bunch of new clients that aren’t assholes.”
“I just want to lie down.” We head upstairs, and I walk her into my condo. “Wow, this is beautiful.”
“Mia did all the decorating, of course. I don’t let people come here.”
Twenty minutes later, my lawyer asks me to go to the local police station where a professional polygrapher is willing to do the test. “I won’t be too long. Please, just rest.”
My phone rings, and it’s Franco. “What’s going on? Isabelle is worried. Something about you getting another woman pregnant.”
“Franco, you know the truth. I’ve never been with a woman until now. Anabelle’s it for me, and this is total bullshit. They’ve attacked Anabelle.”
“Let me know what you need me to do.”
“Just take care of Isabelle. Maybe have her call Anabelle. I have to run out and deal with this.”
“Okay. I will. Keep me informed.”
“I will.” I make the trip where my lawyer’s waiting for me. “I want to make a statement after this.” I do the test and pass easily because nothing is a lie.
It’s nearly eight at night when I address the media. “Hello. As most of you know, I’m Chef Fabio Fiore—” The start shouting questions and cameras flashing. I raise a hand, telling them to stop.