Free Seven Days: A young black woman makes a deal with a mob boss. by Diana Hoffman

"What?!" Victoria coughed out. What was it with this chick?

"Your tits, are they real? I see so many fake ones that they are so easy to spot. But yours look real."

"Um, yes, they are real."

"Nic likes real," Amber stated.

Both of them stood there for a moment, uncomfortably. Then Amber laughed. "He was so pissed when I got mine done. He said he would have rather they been small and real, than fake and big. But whatever, they made me happy. All that matters, right?"

Victoria doubted that Amber actually wanted a reply, so instead, she kept her mouth shut. 

Amber gave her another once over. "That's a beautiful dress. Where did you get it?"

"I don't know. It's not mine."

Amber gave an evil grin. "It looks like this dress that I saw at one of my favorite stores. This French boutique that's to die for. All of their designer clothes are imported from Paris. It's a tad expensive...but that's also why I like it. What are the odds that you would have a dress from my favorite store? The only store on the entire east coast," Amber said, scanning over Victoria's body. Letting her words sink in.

Victoria shrugged feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment. No more words were needed for either woman to know exactly who the other was to Nic. Victoria NEVER wanted to be that woman. The woman who sleeps with married men. She felt so humiliated. Every mistress's worst nightmare, meeting the wife. Mistress. Is that what she was? 

"Come, you must meet Nic...since this is his house and all. Would be rude not to thank the host."

Amber grabbed Victoria's hand and practically drug her over to Nic's group before she could even protest.

"Hey darling, look who I found. This is Victoria. I don't believe you two have met." All eyes around the group went back and forth from Amber to Victoria. "Funny though, you guys said she came with you...yet she said her date was Anthony...or Adrian, something like that. The waiter over there," Amber pointed out.

Nic couldn't help but look over toward Antonio. He felt an instant pang of jealousy that Victoria would claim that prick as her date. In truth, he didn't really know the kid, but he better not dare touch her. Nic wasn't sure why he was thinking so possessively of her, but fuck it, she was with him—end of story.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Amber said, dragging everyone's attention back to Victoria.

Victoria exhaled. "Twenty-three."

"Oh, I was twenty-three when I met my hubby Nic. Innocent, sweet twenty-three year old, until he corrupted me with his lifestyle," she said, giving him a small hug.

"Amber, you were anything but," Nic said, taking another sip from his drink. Amber laughed loudly. "So true."

Victoria felt extremely uncomfortable. She didn't belong in this equation. 

"Oh, and by the way sweetie...next time you go to a party like this, don't stand by yourself for too long. People will think you came by yourself, and the only women dressed like you who show up by themselves are call girls."

"Amber, watch your mouth," Nic warned, slicing into her with his cold stare.

Amber faked being hurt. "I'm sorry, Nic. I'm just trying to help her out. I mean, we wouldn't want someone thinking she was nothing more than a whore, would we? Excuse me, I see my dear friend Sarah," she said as she stalked off, leaving a pissed off and hurt Victoria in her wake. There were now officially two people at this party that Victoria wanted to bitch slap. Make that three, including Nic.

Victoria crossed her arms over her chest, blocking off part of her plunging neckline. Maybe Amber was right...at least about the call girl part. Maybe she did look like a tramp compared to the rest of the women. She turned her head to the side, and stared over at Antonio. She wanted to look anywhere but at HIM. She wanted to go back to the loft and take a shower, and forget this whole night. Antonio was right...she didn't belong with this group.

She quickly wiped a tear