Me To... - Valentino Roca Cheating Blonde Wife Calls

“Show me the evidence again,” I said.

“Hello?”

When I arrived at the hotel, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, mascara streaked. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc stood open, half-empty. She wore a cream silk robe. No ring. Valentino Roca Cheating Blonde Wife Calls Me to...

If you need a moral: Don’t cheat. Don’t marry a man who wears velvet slippers. And always—always—answer the unknown call at 11:47 PM. You never know whose life is about to self-destruct on the other end of the line. “Show me the evidence again,” I said

“She’s lying,” he said to me. “My wife is mentally ill. She’s been off her meds. I don’t know what story she sold you, but—” She wore a cream silk robe

As for me? Sloane and I don’t talk anymore. That night at the Four Seasons was the closest we ever came to something more. But she isn’t a damsel, and I’m not a hero. She’s a blonde wife who called the right person at the wrong time.

Silence. Then, the sound of a glass breaking. Sloane laughed—a real, free laugh I’d never heard before. “He just threw his espresso across the conference table,” she yelled toward the phone. “Valentino Roca, meet the man you should never have crossed.”