Nobody Dare Dumps This Curvy B*tch

Chapter 10

Gabby

“He offered you what?!”

Khloe’s voice bounced off the cracked plaster walls of my small apartment. I jumped and glanced toward the open window facing the fire escape, half-afraid the late-night street noise of Williamsburg might carry her outburst down to the pavement.

She stood in the middle of my tiny living room, clutching a steaming mug of chamomile tea and staring at the white legal documents spread across my worn oak coffee table. Her jaw hung open as her eyes raced over the pages.

“A six-month contract,” I said, barely above a whisper. My fingers trembled as I smoothed the edge of the top sheet. “Full financial backing and lease rights for a luxury restaurant space in Soho, the title of Executive Director of Hospitality at Vanny Holdings, and complete corporate immunity from Joel and his family.”

“And all you have to do is play his fake fiancée until his corporate merger clears the board?” Khloe dropped onto the sofa beside me, set her mug down with a sharp clatter, and pulled the stack of papers onto her lap. “Gabby, look at this letterhead! This is Nathan Vanny. He isn’t some attractive stranger you paid a thousand dollars to show up at a church. He’s on the cover of Forbes—Joel’s billionaire cousin and CEO of the entire Vanny empire!”

“I know.” I buried my face in my hands as the weight of the last twelve hours finally hit me. The adrenaline that had kept me going since morning drained away, leaving only exhaustion. “I swear, Khloe, I had no idea who he was when I handed him that cash envelope outside the church. I just needed someone poised and presentable so I could walk into Joel’s wedding reception with my head high. I wanted to prove I wasn’t crushed. That I wasn’t disposable.”

Khloe’s sharp gaze softened at once. The shock melted into the fierce, protective warmth that had held our friendship together since freshman year. She tossed the papers back on the table and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Oh, sweetie,” she murmured against my hair. “You don’t have to explain a thing. What Joel did eight months ago was sickening. He used you, took your virginity, then tossed you aside the second you didn’t fit his socialite mold and married Titi instead. He made you feel small in your own skin.”

A lump rose in my throat. Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced them back. Eight months had passed since Joel walked out of my life, leaving me with a shattered heart and a mountain of self-doubt. Eight months of slowly rebuilding myself while fighting the voices that made me ashamed of my soft curves, full hips, and humble culinary background.

“I thought I was hallucinating when Nathan stepped up in the middle of the reception, looked me dead in the eye, and proposed right in front of the whole family—including Lina, his ex, who looked ready to tear me apart,” I admitted, pulling back to wipe my cheek. “Joel went white. Titi nearly dropped her bouquet. Then this morning a swarm of paparazzi showed up at my door. I was about to tell them it was all an act as you suggested when Nathan arrived with his legal team. You also saw how everything turned out.”

“He had the contract already drafted,” Khloe whispered, eyes sparkling.

“He walked straight in front of the cameras, put his arm around my waist, and confirmed the engagement to the national news before I could say a word. Then he took me to his car, laid out the agreement his lawyers had prepared, and gave me the legal backing I needed.”

Khloe picked up the contract again and traced a highlighted clause with a polished nail. “Look at this, Gab. Clause Section B, Rule Number Two: strict non-touch agreement. No unauthorized physical intimacy or public displays of affection beyond necessary press appearances. Zero emotional entanglements. Completely clinical. A pure transaction.”

“It has to be,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I’m never letting another man take advantage of my heart again. Joel broke me because I believed his sweet talk. Nathan isn’t offering romance. He’s offering leverage—a business deal that lets me launch my SoHo fine-dining venue on my own terms.”

Khloe tapped the organizational chart in the appendix. “Wait—look at this. He’s assigning your office to the forty-eighth floor of the Vanny Holdings tower. What floor does Joel work on?”

“Junior manager in corporate acquisitions. Forty-fifth floor.”

“Holy s**t!” A wicked grin spread across her face. “You’re going to be working three floors directly above your ex’s head. Every time he steps into an elevator or reads a company memo, he’ll see your name ranking above his. Pure poetic justice.”

“It’s terrifying,” I confessed. “He went to Ivy League schools and talks in corporate jargon. I’m a chef who cooks from the heart.”

“You’re an Executive Director about to run the multi-million-dollar hospitality wing of his family firm,” Khloe corrected firmly. “Don’t minimize your worth. But be honest—can you really stick to a strict no-touch policy with a man who looks like that?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Nathan Vanny is ridiculously, unfairly hot,” she teased. “Broad shoulders, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, tailored three-piece suits, and eyes that look like they can read your entire search history. How are you supposed to keep your hands to yourself when you’re sharing an executive suite with him every day?”

Heat rushed up my neck. “Khloe, stop. He’s my fake fiancé and corporate partner. It’s purely professional. Men in his world don’t fall for women with hips, thighs, and curves like mine. He’s doing this for the merger.”

“Girl, shut up.” She rolled her eyes with affectionate exasperation. “Your hourglass figure is breathtaking. If Nathan has working eyes, he noticed the second you walked into that room. You’re done hiding under oversized hoodies. You’re done feeling second-best.”

She stood, marched to my closet, and pulled out a sharp navy blazer I had bought on sale two years ago and never worn. Holding it against me, she nodded in approval. It hugged my waist and projected pure executive authority.

“Tomorrow morning you put this on,” she declared. “You walk into Vanny Holdings, take that corner office three floors above Joel, and show him and his toxic bride exactly who you are.”

I stared at the blazer in the mirror, then at the signed contract on the table. The lingering fear finally gave way to something stronger: a quiet, burning resolve.

—

The next morning arrived with brutal speed.

At precisely seven o’clock a deep, low rumble vibrated against my window. I parted the thin linen blinds and looked down.

Parked at the curb of my quiet block was a sleek black Lamborghini. Its low, aggressive lines and sculpted body dominated the residential street like a predator at rest.

The tinted passenger window glided down. Nathan sat in the driver’s seat, immaculate in a custom-tailored grey suit and dark silk tie. He looked up, caught my eye, and gave a single deliberate nod.

My heart thudded hard against my ribs. I turned from the window, smoothed the lapels of my navy blazer over my curves, grabbed my leather handbag, and headed downstairs to start day one.