“I think so, too. I’m just not going to go out of my way to disprove it. I take care of the family and run the foundation while he grinds it out on the field,” said Tiffani. “One of these days I’m going to open a shoe store, but for right now what we have works. I am not going to peer too closely under the hood.”

“I get you. Being drama-free is nice, when you can get it. By the way, I’m looking forward to the foundation’s fashion show. When are invites going out?”

“Hopefully next week. Kinley, are you going?” Tiffani asked.

“Are you joking? Of course!” the hostess exclaimed. “Do you have the models lined up?”

“Yes, Regina helped with that. She’s even going to be on the runway. She wants to wear Oliver’s new line. Who was I to say no?” Tiffani glanced at Angel. “Sorry, I know that’s uncomfortable to bring up.”

Angel, surprised at being added into the conversation, was confused for a second, then realized they were talking about Regina, Duke’s ex-girlfriend. “Oh, no, it’s fine. His past personal life is his business.” Even as she said it, and knew she had no claim on him whatsoever, she felt a twang of jealousy.

Kinley nodded approvingly. “If we had to avoid bringing up ex-girlfriends in this crowd, we’d have some pretty quiet nights. Best if you get used to it now. Besides, if you and Duke get serious, the press isn’t going to make it easy on you. They turn everything into a story line for a soap opera, creating drama where there isn’t any. For sure, they will pit you and Regina against each other, as if there’s some big battle brewing.”

“Should I be preparing for battle?”

Everyone’s head swung around at the same time. Angel’s nerves were instantly on fire. There was Regina, the supermodel. The woman famously caught on camera last year calling Duke a loser and then slapping a glass of beer out of his hand, almost knocking him off a pair of crutches. Angel was terrified of the stern, willowy woman with no trace of body fat, stunning in a see-through flapperesque dress, shimmering black strands swinging around her thin, taut thighs. It was far too easy to picture Duke’s hand resting there.

The women moved to her like flowers to the sun. There was a flurry of air-kisses and squeals. Angel stood awkwardly to the side, trying her hardest to keep a confident, relaxed stance, her chin up. I will project Zen if it kills me.

The pack around the model broke open. Regina zeroed in on Angel. “Hello,” she purred, offering a hand as if Angel should curtsy and kiss the ring.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Angel.”

“Yes. And I’m Regina.” The woman smirked.