Good Girls Like it Dirty

by Carmen Falcone

“Fine. Well, you’ll have a lot of spouse time since my friends won’t use that tramp’s services ever again.”

  If only Ashley knew how amazing Monique was. Or maybe she did know, hence the spiteful comments. “Leave.”

  “Excuse me? This was my house too,” she said.

  “But you left. I’ve paid you your share. You no longer have the right to come and go as you please,” he said, making a mental note to change the locks. Ashley had never put up a fight for the house—she hadn’t cared to let go as long as he paid her. He hoped Ashley wouldn’t change her mind now just to give him hell.

  “I can’t believe you. All it takes is some French bitch—”

  “Ashley. You’re the one acting like a bitch. Now, get off of my property.”

  She huffed and gave him a once-over as if she didn’t recognize him. Well, he could say the same thing about her. “You’ll be sorry, Zaine.”

  She strode out of his sight, and the slam of the front door announced her exit.

  Chapter Six

  Maybe I shouldn’t have come.

  Monique looked at her nails and contemplated relapsing into the old habit of biting them. Then she glanced at the closed door.

  Less than twenty-four hours since she’d last seen Zaine—as Monday evening rolled in—she decided to show up at his place and surprise him. And now, even after ringing his doorbell three times, no one opened the door even though his car was in the driveway.

  What if he had someone over? They hadn’t talked about exclusivity, and maybe he was a mega man-whore who wanted to enjoy his separation to the fullest. Her heart shrunk to the size of a cherry tomato.

  Monique drew in a breath and made to move away when the door swung open.

  “Hey,” he said, holding a…baby?

  She frowned.

  Certainly not his. She opened her mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. The only sound that went past her lips was a strange groan.

  “She’s my sister’s,” he said, holding the cute little blonde baby. “She was desperate to go on a date with her husband and my other sister Emma, who was supposed to watch her, got sick.”

  Relief poured down her spine, and her shoulders dropped a notch or two. “How old?” she said, clapping at the baby. “Six months?”

  “Seven.” He motioned for her to enter. “Were you in the neighborhood?”

  “Yes, of course. Why else would I drop by?” she said, totally downplaying how long it’d taken her during rush hour traffic to get to Hollywood Hills.

  Amusement flickered in his eyes, and that crazy vibe passed between them. “I don’t know…perhaps you want to take advantage of a sexy uncle after he’s off duty.”

  She stroked the baby’s cheek and cooed. “I do. But for now I want to hang out with this cutie. What’s her name?”

  “Sarah.”

  “Hi, Sarah,” she said, making some faces that warranted her a few coos and chuckles from the little one. Soon, Sarah stretched out her arms, and Monique took her, walking with her on her hip around the house.

  “You’re good with kids.”

  “I helped raise my three younger brothers,” she said, remembering the days when she helped feed, bathe, and put them to sleep. Her mother worked long hours, but Monique never minded one tiny bit. Her early experience with children had shaped her personality, caring for them when her own father didn’t. She hated seeing her siblings neglected by their father. That’s why she’d vowed to help kids without a voice when she became an adult.

  “Where were your parents?”

  “My mom was around, but she needed help after my dad bailed on us. I was a teen, but my siblings were younger.”

  “Sucks. I’m sorry,” he said. “My father died when I was seventeen. He was a good one, though. Present.”

  “Good. An honorable man who raised an honorable son,” she said, and peered up at him. Their gazes held for a moment that stretched beyond measure. He stared at her tenderly, sending some kind of secret message she herself didn’t know how to read. The intensity of their silent exchange squeezed the air from her lungs.

  It would be safer to return to sexual innuendos and easy banter.

  She’d be a whole lot safer if she turned away from him and their bizarre sex-for-money bargain.

  Though she knew the right path to take, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “Monique…”

  “Yes?”

  “Sarah needs a diaper change,” he said, pointing at the baby. “Give her to me.”

  Monique shook her head and laughed at herself. Here she was waiting for him to say something romantic when he’d called her, and instead he alerted her about Sarah’s much-needed change. He grabbed the baby from her and took her to the living area, where a few items were scattered: a bottle, a blanket, and some toys. He didn’t ask her to change Sarah; he went ahead and did it himself, quite efficiently for a guy. “Do you babysit her often?”

  “Not really. Megan and I are close, though.”

  She remembered the pictures of a woman who looked like him but in feminine form. “Right. Funny thing, I never saw pictures of Sarah. Or saw your sisters around.”

  He dressed Sarah and put her on the blanket. Sarah gurgled, playing with a rattle. “Megan, Emma, and Ashley never got along well. The tension escalated after Megan had a baby… Ashley always judged her for staying at home with Sarah instead of going back to work.”

  “Seems like Ashley is a bitch,” she said, though she knew it to be truth. In their few exchanges, Ashley treated her no better than Paula—condescending and like she was some dumb foreigner because she was a cleaning maid.

  He shrugged. “That’s the ruling.”

  “Why didn’t you leave her sooner?” she asked, unsure if she’d like the answer. Rooting for people’s divorce was beneath her, yet she didn’t feel guilty for asking.

  He scratched his chin. “I have a very rational side. I saw our relationship as an investment and wanted to make sure we tried everything before going our separate ways. But one thing she didn’t want to try was having a family.”

  “Did she say she wanted one when you got married?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes. I think she changed her mind along the way.”

  She bit back a smile. He’d make a fabulous dad one day. “C’est la vie, huh?”

  “Yes. A hell of a vie,” he said, and they laughed in unison.

  For the next four hours, they shared a laid-back night. He ordered Thai food from his favorite place, and they talked some more and played with Sarah. Monique hadn’t cared for a baby in a while, now that her brothers were in their late teens. She warmed Sarah’s bottle, fed her, and kissed the top of her head when she fell asleep in her arms.

  She and Zaine had only exchanged a quick kiss, but she didn’t miss the sex. Spending time with him was all she needed, after all those months in Los Angeles she’d been alone with few confidantes. Her roommates were nice people, but they never established any type of meaningful connection besides respecting each others’ boundaries and sharing bills and greasy pizzas. Now, for the first time, she had someone to talk to about anything and everything.

  In a strange way, Zaine made her feel like she was at home.

  She swallowed. Twice. Note to self: this is just playing house. For once, she was happy for their arrangement. It kept things honest and kept her from getting hurt.

  Sarah was sleeping soundly when the doorbell rang.

  Zaine was picking a movie for them to watch in the media room, so Monique dashed to the entrance to make sure the baby wouldn’t wake. When she opened the door and saw his sister, it dawned on her. They didn’t have a verbal agreement on what to tell people about how they got together. And there she was, opening the door of his house with a smile on her face. “Hello.”

  Megan did resemble her brother, especially the expressive chestnut eyes. She withdrew, visibly surprised. She wore a knee-length red dress that screamed date night. “I’m here to pick up my daugh
ter.”

  “Please, come in. Sarah’s asleep so I opened the door to make sure she didn’t wake.”

  Megan nodded and tossed her long brown hair to the side. “Trust me, Sarah can sleep through an earthquake. She probably will,” she added, chuckling.

  Phew. Friendly vibes exuded from his sister. Why not reciprocate? “Your daughter is so lovely.”

  “Thank you. I’m Megan,” she said, stretching out her hand. “And you are?”

  “Monique.” She shook her hand. “I’m a friend of Zaine’s.”

  She heard Zaine’s footsteps before he reached them, holding a DVD. “Yes, she’s Monique. A very good friend,” he added, and stood alongside her.

  Megan picked up her daughter and grinned at her brother. “Interesting,” she said, then glanced at Monique like she was seeing her for the first time.

  “Let me help you with the rest of your things,” Monique said, but before she could grab the big diaper bag, Zaine took it.

  “I’ll do it. I’m sure she wants to have some precious alone time with me so she can give me a hard time on the way to the car,” he said.

  His sister smacked his arm. “You’re lucky my husband is waiting in the car, otherwise I’d make it so embarrassing for you. Payback for all my high school dates.”

  Monique watched the sibling teasing with a pang of jealousy. She missed her own brothers. “Nice to meet you, Megan.” She waved at the door.

  Megan smiled over her shoulder and nodded. “Same here, Monique. Thank you.”

  Monique heard them talking in a low voice as Zaine carried his sister’s things all the way to the sleek parked car.

  “A very good friend?” she asked when he returned, shaking her head. “What does that mean?” What made a regular friend different from a very good friend?

  “Let me show you,” he said, closing the door behind him and pulling her into a kiss.

  Chapter Seven

  Zaine looked at the invitation with cursive font the courier had brought. In a week, he had an important ball to attend. Lara Annick, the head organizer of a future pediatric cancer hospital, was hosting a fundraising party in Honolulu. She still hadn’t officially chosen an architect for the project, but he knew she had to—she needed pitches and contracts to have an estimated amount to show to her board and to attract investors.

  Zaine wouldn’t miss it for the world. His heart clutched. He’d lost his twin brother to pancreatic cancer. Zachary had been a gifted pianist, and such a generous soul. He’d be here today, talking to him and making him laugh, if that horrible illness hadn’t claimed him at thirty-four years old.

  Because of his known talent, clients usually came to him and not the other way around. But he’d change the rules this time—as long as he worked on something big, to help ease the guilt of being alive while his brother was not. Besides, Lara had worked with Ashley in the past. He’d hate to lose the opportunity, and would hate even more to bring his personal affairs to her attention. Though, at this point most of their circle knew they’d separated and were headed for divorce.

  They’d sent a joint letter to clients a few weeks prior, to assure them they’d still work together on projects they’d committed to. Was that still the case after he’d kicked her out of his home? He’d also called his lawyer and scheduled a meeting to talk about speeding the divorce process. At first, there’d been no real urgency. Zaine and Ashley were two adults, and parted amicably. Now, after the bad blood from their last exchange, he wanted to make sure he did whatever he could to expedite the paperwork.

  His cell phone rang, and he scooped it from the table. Doug. He supposed this would be awkward any which way, so he might as well do it now. They hadn’t really chatted lately, what with Zaine not being in the mood for pretending to be nice. “Zaine here.”

  “Hey, man.” Doug cleared his throat on the other end of the line. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  Zaine grabbed a Mont Blanc pen from the stainless steel holder and played with it, rolling it in between his fingers. “What’s up?”

  Doug breathed into the phone. Was he nervous? “Okay, so don’t hate me, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.”

  Zaine sighed. “What is it?”

  “I was invited to Lara’s party too, and I’m going…and I’ll try to get her business. Ashley would be my interior designer if it’s accepted. We’d work together.”

  Zaine clenched the pen, his blood chilling. Oh, great. He would bet money that Ashley had gone to Doug with this vindictive scheme. She knew he’d wanted to be a part of that new hospital from when they were married, and rumors had started. “How unexpected,” he said ironically. “Let me guess, this would be Ashley’s idea?”

  “Listen, this is a business decision. I thought I’d do the right thing and clear the air, let you know.”

  “All right. Thanks,” he said, then hung up the phone.

  He’d always welcomed competition and never feared it. After all, he’d worked hard to establish himself as one of the top architects in the country. His clients booked him a long time ahead and didn’t flinch at his rate.

  I know why I’m worried. If Ashley really believed he’d cheated on her while married and for some reason wanted to take from him the one thing he wanted badly, she’d do anything to achieve her goal. He needed to keep his head in the game and be one step ahead of her. But how? He didn’t have a relationship with Lara Annick—not yet. That’s why this trip to Hawaii would be a chance to make a good impression and seize the opportunity. He’d make a fat donation and small talk and then schedule a lunch or dinner to show her his ideas. Unlike others who might be interested in the account, he had a personal reason to take it. He had passion. He had—

  “Mr. Cavanaugh,” said his assistant through the intercom, pulling him from his thoughts. “Someone’s here to speak to you.”

  He clicked on the button to speak. “I don’t see it on my calendar.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s your housemaid. She said it’s an emergency and she wouldn’t tell me what it is.”

  Maid? He’d called the agency earlier in the morning, but he expected the new cleaner to arrive in a couple of days. At his house, not in his office. He scratched his chin. Maybe they got the place wrong. “Send her in.”

  Monique walked through the doors, wearing a black trench coat and high heels. She looked like the cover of a Vogue magazine. During the last couple weeks, they’d spent almost every night together. He’d decided not to overthink about her occasionally sleeping with him through the night—why would he? She had a ticket back to France, so he’d enjoyed her company, her sassy attitude, her sense of humor without guilt or worries.

  “Why did you say you were the maid?” he asked when she closed the door behind her.

  “Because I’m here to clean your office, Monsieur,” she said, removing the coat and tossing it across the room.

  His mouth went dry.

  Monique wore a short, tight black dress with a ruffled white apron tied at her waist. It reminded him of those Halloween maid costumes. She fished a small duster from her bag. “I figured you wouldn’t mind,” she said, and covered her mouth with her hand, feigning surprise. “You don’t mind, do you, Monsieur?”

  He bit back a smile. Frenchie wanted to role-play. “Not at all.”

  “Good,” she said, her accent more pronounced.

  She flashed him a megawatt smile, and bent over the sofa enough so he could peek at her perky, round ass. Desire roared inside him, and he unbuckled his belt.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Wait. What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready, sweet lady.”

  She lifted her eyebrow and shook her head in disapproval. “Duty always comes first. I must finish cleaning before we can play.”

  She began by pretending to dust off his shelves, because the office had an efficient cleaning crew who made sure the place sparkled. Besides, all she wanted, he guessed, was to tease him with the sexy sway of her hips, making
the bottom part of her dress twirl. Each time the ruffles swooshed, he touched his heart to make sure he didn’t have to call 911. Not yet, anyway.

  She leaned over his desk, giving him a generous view of her breasts. “Monsieur has kept his space clean. You deserve a treat.”

  Oh, how he enjoyed their delicious foreplays. “Do I?”

  “Yes.” She reached over his desk, and for once he didn’t care about anything else. Documents fell to the floor, soon followed by pens, his cell phone, and the sleek keyboard from his Mac computer. She pulled down the flimsy material, flashing him her large breasts.

  He stretched out his hand to cup her tit, but she smacked it away.

  “Not yet.”

  Fuck. His balls tingled. “You forget, my dirty maid, that I’m your boss,” he said, taking charge in this adult pretend play. “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll fire you.”

  “Monsieur.” She widened her pretty eyes. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

  He stood, cock in hand. “I don’t know…” he said, stroking himself, feeling his veins expand and pound. He walked to the middle of his large office. “You haven’t shown me how eager you are to keep this position.”

  She moaned. “Oh, I’m eager.”

  He inched closer, while squeezing the tip of his cock. Their exchange alone raised his body temperature, but if he wanted to make it last, he had to slow down. “You’ve come to work without your panties. How unprofessional,” he said with the harsh tone of someone who meant it.

  She fanned her face, a shade of pink staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry… I was feeling so hot. I decided to leave them at home.”

  “Well, your naughty cream will stain my furniture. The sofa you grinded yourself on cost me thousands of dollars.”

  She tilted her head to the side, her gaze sliding down his body until it settled on his hard-on. She licked her lips without taking her eyes off him. “I’m sure there’s a way we can work out a payment plan.”

  “I call it a punishment plan. Sit on the sofa.”

  She did as she was told.

  “Open your legs for me.”

  She spread her legs, and soon her pink smooth pussy glistened in front of him, ripe for the taking. He grabbed the duster from her hand as the wicked idea occurred to him. Then, he used the feathery side to tease her. She moaned, and he was glad his assistant had gone on a lunch break. “Oh yes.”