Chapter 18

“Alexi! What a pleasure running into you here tonight; I wasn’t sure you still came to the opera. It’s been a while.” Demagio cannot tear those watered-green eyeballs off my derriere as he talks. Even though I am used to this, I find it increasingly uncomfortable as his young date eyes me warily with a distasteful look. At most, she looks thirteen and has an arrogance reserved for spoiled brats of wealthy people. I ignore her completely, but it’s hard when a teen gives you the mother of all death glares.

Young, short, mousy brown, chubby and dressed in a mother-approved gown better suited on a pensioner. I can see why this red-painted woman is a source of disgust, and her mother must be a joy. Now I know why it is a sexless marriage. I am guessing this offspring marked the last of their bedroom romps.

Demagio is a round, red-faced and balding specimen that reminds me of an overinflated tyre about to pop out of his trim-fitted tuxedo. He seems like a man who should be ete