Viggo's observation was laconic, cut through the raucous din of the crowded club. "Girls like that...they deserve someone better." Orlando followed Viggo's gaze to the dancefloor -- Miranda, all butterfly soft and just as dazzling, laughing as an inebriated Dom tried to teach her the mamba -- and shrugged. "Yeah, well, had your shot at her, didn't you? Not my fault if she chose me." "Not for long, I bet," Viggo drawled. "I hear Karl's been sniffing around." "Thought he was your bitch," Orlando frowned. Viggo just grinned. "Orlando, don't you know by now you're all my bitches?"
|