Page 37 of Mistress A-0002
I laughed. “Jackson,” I turned, meeting the guard’s serious stare. “It’s time.”
“You’ve gotto be kidding me. Main Master,” Mistress Forty-Two hissed quietly through the speaker, drawing my attention from the clouds crowding my private jet’s window. “You know I can’t stand that bastard. He ruined my life.”
“And I fixed it.With conditions…I need you.”
She groaned. “And you know you can count on me as your cover, but Pistol and the bastard at the same time? In the same place? I stopped drinking. And I really need a drink. Just the thought of this makes my skin crawl.”
“You were smart to stop the alcohol. Has it not paid off?”
“It was the best thing I could have done. I owe you; I know that. And I’ll do as you ask. It’s just going to suck.”
“Life sucks, but it doesn’t have to. Look on the bright side; you’ll be with me.” I smiled, the wheels in my mind spinning faster by the second. “It’s been a while since the world has heard from Elec Wexler. What would you say about being more than my friend tonight? How would you feel about being mypretenddate? Paparazzi will surely love that. They can’t get enough of you, and the added publicity may be just what you need to put you over the top.”
Laughter filled the speaker, and I looked down to the shelf of clouds below as Lilian made a soft sigh. One that spoke of her insecurities.
“I can’t say the same for you. In the eyes of society, we’re complete opposites. You should be staying as far away from me as possible.”
“Are you kidding? Even the good guy has to show signs of being bad every once in a while. No one likes a boring bachelor, Ms. Lowe. I do have an image to uphold, even if I’m rarely seen.”
“Then wouldn’t Charlotte Wyce be a better choice? You should have asked her to be your cover. Mistress Three seems more your type. Elegant. Gorgeous.”
“What do you know about my type? Maybe I like the rebel.”
Again, she laughed, this time louder. “You don’t want the bad girl of society. You just want a bad girl for yourself. But not me…”
I bit my bottom lip, waiting for the sexual urges that came with the thought of Vivia. When they didn’t come and my stomach twisted with anger, I tried to keep the dark edge from my tone, changing the subject.
“How is three-eleven? He had an upgrade not long ago. How’s he taking that?”
Lilian paused, clearing her throat. “My blank slate is great. More than great. We’ve had no issues since you fixed him.”
My lids narrowed in thought. I tore myself from the window, glancing around the luxurious setting. White interior. Glass accents. Silver, not gold. Clean. Bright. This was half her, half me. Vivia would have loved the colors. She would have hated the semblance. She never wanted this life. She was more cottage-cozy. She was economy, not private…not elite-minded.
“Do you love him?”
“Love. Maybe. I love the peace he brings me. I love the comfort he makes me feel, even amid the anger and chaos. If peace is love then perhaps that’s what it is.”
Peace. Vivia didn’t bring me peace. She brought me hell every chance she got.
“Let’s talk about something else, Main Master. We have a pretend date at the worst place in the world. I’m assuming this date was my idea. I can’t see you choosing this location given who you are.”
“Who am I?”
“Elec…you’re a Wexler. You’re a household name in the eyes of who’s-who. Celebrities strive to be your friend. You have the best connections. Your status is gold. But you’d never be caught dead in a club like this.”
I almost smiled. “Tell me more about me.”
“Alright.” Footsteps paced in the background, a soft thud against what I knew to be marble in her living room. “You’re unlike most of those in your circle. Your life doesn’t revolve around the business world. Not above ground. You’re a rich elite who works as a psychologist for the FBI on secret missions. To the world, you’re an intoxicating mystery.” She paused. “And yet, as a bachelor, you’reneverfar from the headlines. I wonder how that is.”
“The world works in surreptitious ways, does it not? The headlines keep me alive while I’m absent. It’s a must.”
“I can see that, but I thought maybe you were competing with the Whitlocks. They’re very popular these days as well.”
My top lip pulled back the smallest amount. “Are you trying to ruin my night?”
“Did you hear the latest story?”
The tension left. With it, something else filtered in. Jealousy? Hurt? Envy? A little of all?