Eleven: Audrina Bianchi

Eleven

Audrina Bianchi

I had grown up with people looking at me. I was used to it. I was a super model, it was my job to be looked at. This morning though, it was different. This morning, people weren’t just looking at me, they were looking at my husband also. Even I had to admit, I didn’t blame them. Luca Capaldi’s body was finely sculpted from years of sports. Swimming. Judo. His blond hair aristocratic features made him look like a prince. Only I knew the truth. There was nothing Princely about him. Princes assain, maybe.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Luca asked as he took a bite of the waffles that he’d gotten.

I frowned at him, then took a drink of my mimosa. “How can you be so casual about all of this?”

“About all of what?” he said. “It’s brunch. I remember when we were teenagers, you told me that if you could spend eternity at brunch, you would. Because you could have dessert for breakfast and no one got upset if you got drunk early in the morning and it lasted until noon