Beautiful Ever After: Beautiful Illusions Duet Book 2

by Cates, Georgia

  “We’ll wait for you at The Landing Strip on High Riggs. We’ll be there at 5:30. The three of us and that envelope of money will be gone by 5:35 if you don’t show.”

  Command, strength, power. The three ooze from Bleu’s voice.

  One shouldn’t toy with Bleu. That’s very evident. And I’m relieved to have her on my side. Hell, I’m relieved to have all of the Bella Mafia on my side. Those five women are to be feared.

  “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be there.”

  We leave the shop and it’s only a minute until Bleu’s driver arrives to get us.

  “I want to go to The Landing Strip about as much as I want to eat glass,” Shaw says.

  “I know it’s sleazy, but it’s safe because it’ll be occupied by friends of our husbands.”

  “Someone tell me what The Landing Strip is.”

  “They call it a gentlemen’s club, but it’s actually a place where men, who are not actually gentlemen, go to watch topless dancing.” Bleu frowns and point to her stomach and crotch. “You know. That kind of landing strip.”

  “Ohhh, I see now.” Gross.

  “It’s a very seedy place that exploits women. There’s no doubt about that, but there is zero risk associated with meeting him there. I can call ahead, reserve the VIP room and leave instructions for him to be searched at the door.”

  Bleu is completely confident in her ability to call this club, book a room, and give orders to the men working there.

  Damn. That’s badass.

  “You think Roman Kirk could be dangerous?” Shaw asks.

  “I don’t think he’s dangerous in a physical aspect, but we certainly have reason to not trust him. If my suspicions are right, he could be capable of doing something worse than physical harm if given the opportunity. We can’t be too careful with this man.”

  I’m trying to gather enough courage to ask Bleu about her suspicions when Shaw closes the door of opportunity. “I say we go over to Duncan’s and have a drink while we wait for the kiltmaker to finish his shift.”

  “I could go for a whisky.” Or three. Hutch wouldn’t complain. He loved what followed my drinking excursion with the Bella Mafia a few nights ago.

  “I should probably text my husband.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind about telling him what you’re doing?”

  “No way. I may be a new wife, but this is a clear case of forgiveness being easier to obtain than permission.”

  LOU: I’ll be late tonight. I’m out with Bleu and Shaw.

  HUTCH: Having drinks?

  LOU: Maybe.

  HUTCH: Can I fuck you on top of the table when you get home?

  LOU: I was thinking we’d do something else. Maybe make out in the backseat of the Benz.

  HUTCH: By “make out” you mean fuck, right?

  LOU: We’ll see.

  HUTCH: Yeah, trust me. You mean fuck.

  LOU: OK.

  HUTCH: Have a good time. Love you.

  LOU: Love you too.

  I feel a little bit bad about doing this behind Hutch’s back but not bad enough to change my mind about going through with it. In the end, we’re going to win against the Lochridges, and he’s not going to remember how we got there. I hope.

  Three whiskies later, I’m feeling looser. Braver. “I don’t know about you ladies but I’m full-on ready to interrogate the kiltmaker.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “It’s almost time. We should probably be making our way over to the not-so-gentlemanly club.”

  We enter the club and the first thing I see is a young woman on stage dancing around a pole. She’s topless and wearing only a tiny G-string. I’m not sure why she bothered with the scrap of fabric. It leaves nothing to the imagination when she parts her legs. And these men are loving it.

  Making the decision to become an escort was painful for me, but the choice to do this must have been a gut-wrenching decision for this woman. Surely, she didn’t choose this profession because she had other choices.

  Poor thing.

  I’m puzzled by the way the men react when they see us walking through the club. Catcalls. Whistles. Pinches or pats on the ass. I expected any of those things, or all of them, but these men are lowering their heads.

  Bowing.

  Bowing to show respect to these members of the Bella Mafia.

  Bowing to their queen.

  Nothing has ever been clearer.

  “Good evening, Randall.”

  The man lowers his head. “Good evening, missus. The VIP room has been prepared for you.”

  Prepared for you. I wonder what that consists of. A good cleaning with bleach, I hope. Twice for good measure.

  The man leads us to the room and wow. Just wow. Elegant red damask wallpaper. Luxurious red leather tufted sofas. Rich red and gold carpet. Warm, glowing light dancing around the room from the flame inside of the fireplace. It’s gorgeous. And I’d want to bring Hutch to this room if it weren’t inside of this vile-ass club.

  Damn. I wonder if my husband has ever been in this room.

  I probably shouldn’t wonder about that. Or ever ask.

  “Shall I bring your guest back when he arrives?”

  “That would be perfect. And do ensure that he is thoroughly searched at the door.”

  I walk the room inspecting the décor, touching nothing. “This room is quite lovely. It’s unexpected compared to what it looks like out there.”

  “It is lovely, but its beauty will never mask all of the ugly that happens inside of these four walls.”

  I wholeheartedly agree with that.

  The door opens and Roman Kirk is led into the room by a man who is every bit as large as Raith who guards the entrance into Inamorata. “Will you be requiring my presence?”

  Bleu pats her hip. Her gun. “No, Seamus. We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll be readily available if I’m needed.”

  “Thank you.”

  Roman Kirk looks at Bleu, and then Shaw, and then me. “Who are you people?”

  “Who we are is not important. And it’s definitely not the reason you’re here.” Bleu gestures to the sofa. “Take a seat. We have lots to discuss.”

  He moves to the sofa across from us and sits, his legs spreading wide, and his kilt falls between them. “You said there was money?”

  I remove the envelope from my jacket and toss it at him. “Twenty thousand pounds. It’s yours if you give me the answers I want. If you don’t, you’re not walking out of here with a single pound of that money.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How do you know Blair?”

  “I met her at the shop when she came in with her husband for a custom kilt. She returned to the shop later without him and told me that she’d give me two hundred pounds if I’d let her take my picture. I thought it was odd but I needed the money, so I allowed her to photograph me with her mobile.”

  “When did you see her again?”

  “She came back about a month later.”

  “What did she want the next time you saw her?”

  “She had created a profile on a dating website using my name and picture. I was pissed off about it and demanded that she take it down. She told me that she couldn’t and wouldn’t. And that’s when she offered me a thousand pounds to let her continue using my name and profile on the site. I didn’t want to do it, but I work at a kiltmaker shop. I don’t earn that much.”

  “Are you aware that she was pretending to be you while she was messaging back and forth with a woman from the dating site?”

  “Aye.”

  “What happened next?”

  “She asked me to meet the woman. Mina. And I got more money for taking her out on a date.”

  “How many times did Blair pay you to see Mina?”

  “I couldn’t put a number on it. It was many times.”

  “Did you have a sexual relationship with Mina?”

  “It became sexual.”

  “Because you wanted it
to or because Blair paid you to?”

  He hesitates a moment. “Mina wasn’t my type. She was a rich bitch just like the customers I deal with every day. I didn’t like her at all, but I couldn’t turn down that kind of money.”

  “Did you make her believe you loved her?”

  “Aye. That’s what I was paid to do.”

  “Did Blair ever tell you why she orchestrated a fake relationship between you and her sister?”

  “She never told me why and I didn’t ask. Because I didn’t care.”

  “What happened the last time you saw Mina?”

  “She told me she was going to have my baby and I was aff my heid. I told her everything about how I’d been paid by Blair to be her pretend boyfriend. She ran out of my flat and I haven’t seen her since. That was almost two years ago and I’ve been biding my time, waiting for her to show up with a bairn on her hip.”

  “Mina isn’t going to be showing up. She’s dead.”

  His eyes widen. “What happened to her?”

  “She got into a car accident after she left you.”

  “So there’s no baby after all?” He reaches up and runs his hands through the top of his hair. “Thank fuck for that. I can’t believe I’ve been so damn worried all this time.”

  This guy is thrilled because he believes his child died with Mina in that car accident. And I don’t feel one bit of regret or remorse for what I’m about to do. “You’re off the hook. There’s no baby.”

  “I was scared when you showed up asking about Blair and Mina, but this is great news.” He picks up the envelope. “Plus, I made another twenty thousand pounds. This is fucking grand.”

  What. A. Dick.

  I want to yank that envelope out of his hand and beat the fuck out of him with it. And I may yet if he doesn’t get out of my sight.

  “I think we’re done here.”

  “You’re sure? No more questions?” Bleu asks.

  I don’t think I could bear to hear him say another word that dismisses Ava Rose as though she never mattered. “I’m satisfied with the information I’ve gotten.”

  He stands and shoves the envelope of money inside his jacket. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  The three of us are quiet for a moment after he leaves. I think we’re all a little sickened by what he had to say.

  Bleu sighs. “I didn’t like Mina, but I wouldn’t have wished that on her.”

  Shaw places her hand over her heart. “Can you imagine how she must have been feeling after hearing that? It’s no wonder that she got into an accident.”

  Her sister had betrayed her, and the man she loved turned out to be a phony who didn’t want their child. Those were her final thoughts before she died. I almost wonder if she had the accident on purpose.

  I feel sorry for Mina. And I feel numb on her behalf. “That was so much worse than I expected.”

  “Blair is an even more horrible person than we suspected,” Shaw says.

  “Blair is the one who planted the idea in Mina’s head about the dating website. She suggests it in her texts over and over. And after hearing what Roman Kirk had to say, I think Blair talked Mina into doing the dating website so she would be lured away from Max instead of trying to reconcile with him. And that means Blair would have him all to herself.”

  Bleu’s theory makes total sense.

  “This wasn’t a simple plan. It was intricate. She didn’t come up with this overnight. The way you choose to handle this matter must be carefully planned. You can’t give Blair any wiggle room.”

  Shaw’s right. I must corner her without any chance of escape.

  “I understand you have to hold on to this information in order to blackmail her but it’s a shame you don’t get to expose what she’s done,” Bleu says.

  “I know. It’s a shame I can’t do both.”

  “Hiding Ava Rose’s existence from Roman Kirk is the right thing to do. Don’t ever question that.”

  I’m glad Bleu agrees. Not everyone would be of the same opinion.

  “I would ordinarily say that a father has the right to know about his child but not in this case. Not him.” Not that dick.

  “He could potentially use her as a way to extort money out of you and Max. It’s better that he doesn’t know about her existence.”

  If he doesn’t know she exists, he can never sue for custody.

  “You don’t have to convince me to not feel guilty about lying to him. I don’t, not even a little.” I can live with that lie for the sake of my baby girl.

  27

  Maxwell Hutcheson

  “Your one o’clock is already here,” Mary says.

  Ah, fuck. I forgot about that last-minute schedule adjustment. “Remind me again who my one o’clock is.”

  “Ina Morata.”

  “Inamorata?” I chuckle as I say the word. Not because I’m amused but because I’m astounded.

  “No. She pronounced it as Ina… Morata.” Mary looks up at me and scowls. “Is something wrong with that name? I think it’s lovely.”

  No one is named Ina Morata. That’s what’s wrong with it.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it. Where is Miss Morata?”

  “I sent her into your office. I didn’t know you were going to be so late coming back from lunch.”

  “Are you scolding me, Mary?”

  “If I am it’s because you need it.”

  “I tell you what. I’ll try to do better, just for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that before, you rascal.”

  Mary is a delightful woman. She reminds me of my mum in so many ways. Probably because she treats me very much like a son. I’m going to miss her when I’m gone from here. I hope she’s treated well by these arrogant assholes.

  She gestures to my office door. “Go on. The bonnie lass has already been waiting for you too long.”

  I’m eager to see what is going on with Miss Ina Morata. Nothing about that name is coincidental.

  Could it be Cora? Another inamorata?

  I open my office door and the woman is sitting in one of the chairs facing my desk. My eyes are drawn to the back of her long, straight blond hair and my first thought is that it’s Cora. But then I remember that Cora’s hair isn’t that long. Or platinum blond.

  “My apologies, Miss Morata. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Being made to wait implies that your time is more important than mine. And I assure you that my time is very important. And expensive. Ask any of my clients and they’ll tell you so.”

  Her accent is strange. Is she faking a Scottish burr?

  “I assure you I’m not under the impression that your time is less important than mine or anyone else’s.” I come around the chair and offer my hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaint—.”

  Green-brown hazel eyes. Long lashes. Nose adorned with a few scattered freckles.

  Perfect. Red. Lips.

  My wife.

  My wife wearing a platinum blond wig?

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  “Are you expecting anyone?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I’m scheduled with Miss Morata until two o’clock.”

  “Good. Go sit down behind your desk, Mr. Hutcheson.”

  Lou gets up, walks over to the door and locks it before coming to stand in front of me. She lowers herself to the floor and kneels between my legs, reaching for the buckle of my belt. “I’m going to suck you so hard.”

  Oh fuuuck yes.

  I reach out and grip the wig, pulling it off her head. “I want that, but I also want you to look like my wife while you do it.”

  She smiles up at me while she lowers my zipper. “You don’t want to see the back of a blonde’s head bobbing up and down your cock?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Lou pushes her fingers into my waistband. I lift my hips and she pulls down my trousers and Y-fronts, leaving them around my ankles.

  She places her palms on my thighs and glides them upward until h
er fingertips brush my bollocks. She teases them for a moment, lightly sweeping her fingers back and forth beneath the bottom of my sac. Blood rushes toward my cock—filling, lengthening, thickening it. The ropes of veins are stiff and standing out.

  “Fuck, you’re being a tease.”

  The tip of her pink tongue darts out between her ruby red lips, licking them. “Am I?”

  “Aye. A big one.”

  She grasps the base and I watch as her tongues circles around the head. My erection jolts each time her tongue moves over that sensitive area just below the crown. And then she licks away the little pearl on the tip.

  Fuck. Me.

  She alternates licking my length and circling her tongue around the head’s edge before taking it fully into her mouth. “That feels so fucking good.”

  I grip her hair, pulling all of it into a ponytail, and I watch as her head bobs up and down. “I love seeing those red lips wrapped around my cock.”

  Tilting her head, she wraps her mouth around the side and moves up and down the shaft, her eyes locked on mine. “Every man on this planet wishes he had a wife like you. I am so lucky to call you mine.”

  Opening her mouth wider, she takes one of my bollocks in. She lightly sucks and releases while massaging it with her tongue. And then she does something that no one has ever done to me before, even Lou.

  Something new. Something unexpected. Something both breathtaking and erotic.

  Applying pressure beneath my sac, she rotates her finger in a circular motion. Slow, and then fast. Soft, and then hard.

  And. Holy. Fuck.

  I’ve never felt any-fucking-thing in the world like it.

  “You’ve got to stop, mo maise. You’re going to make me come.”

  She stops sucking and looks up at me. “I was going to let you come in my mouth and watch me swallow it.”

  Such filthy words coming out of such a beautiful mouth. So filthy that they almost send me over the edge.

  “Another time, mo maise. Definitely. Right now, I want to be inside of you. I have something else in mind.”

  I help Lou stand and I kick out of my shoes and trousers. Taking her hand, I lead her to the sofa. Without being told what to do next, she climbs on top of me.

  I cradle her face with my hands. “My beautiful inamorata.”