Nosy bitch.
He knew who she was. The fun for Jessa was the anonymity, and now that was lost.
They finished dressing in silence and left the office together.
Jessa’s steps faltered when she saw his wife sitting in the conference room. She was a tall and waiflike stylish blond with bright emerald eyes. The woman gave her a friendly smile as she came over to press a kiss to her husband lips. Jessa cleared her throat.
“Darling, this is a new client of mine, Jessa Bell,” Mr. Halston said, his hand now on his wife’s lower back. “Ms. Bell, my wife, Elizanne.”
“Very nice to meet you, Elizanne,” Jessa said, her eyes going from him to her as she extended her hand to the woman.
“I hope you’re satisfied with Halston Architecture,” Elizanne said.
“Oh, very satisfied,” Jessa stressed, a little taken aback by his calmness. “Enjoy your lunch.”
He is slick as hell.
Jessa walked to the door.
“How’s the love of my life?” he asked.
Jessa paused with her hand on the handle.
“In need of a little attention,” his wife said, so low that Jessa almost didn’t hear her.
“Last night wasn’t enough?”
The shared a soft laugh that spoke of intimacy.
She turned in the doorway. “Wow, you’re really amazing, Mr. Halston,” she said.
“What’s that?” he asked, still calm, cool, and collected.
Elizanne’s face was mildly inquisitive as she smoothed her hand against his tie.
“That you have the stamina to have fucked your wife last night, fucked the hell out of me few minutes ago, and you plan to fuck her again tonight,” Jessa said, enjoying as she watched his face lose its composure and Elizanne’s hand tightened around his tie until her knuckles were truly white. She applauded as she sighed and bowed to him mockingly. “You are amazing.”
“What?” Elizanne gasped, looking up at him with a wide-eyed stare.
“If you don’t believe me, check his garbage for the condom,” Jessa said. “It’s very full.”
“Elizanne,” he roared when she roughly pushed past him to enter his office.
Moments later her cry of anguish pierced the air.
“Lie to your wife, Mr. Halston, but never to me,” Jessa said. “It’s a pity because you really do have an amazing dick that I’m going to miss . . . unless you want to reconnect once things cool off.”
“You bitch,” he snapped, his eyes filled with fury.
“No, no, no. You black bitch,” she reminded him gently before she left the conference room and closed the door behind her.
Chapter 14
Same day
Jessa gave Mr. Halston and his wife not one other thought as she left Halston Architecture and made her way down the hall to take the elevator to her own offices on the twentieth floor. She went to the restroom and cleansed herself with rough paper towels and the commercial soap from the dispenser. “Now this a ho bath,” she said to her reflection in the mirror over the sink before quickly avoiding looking into her own eyes.
She moved quickly to her office and called her favorite car service for a chauffeured SUV before turning on her computer to print off hard copies of the files she needed. With a flourish, she used her personalized stationery to draft a personalized note. “Wu-Tang ain’t the only one not to fuck with,” she said, grabbing the still-warm papers from the printer in her office before she eased the stack and the note into her tote.
She cut the lights and left the offices of Mistress, Inc., locking the door securely before she hurried to the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby floor and not the parking garage. When the elevator zoomed past the twelfth floor, she chuckled at the trouble she’d caused. Being bad again feels so damn good.
The stylish and modern lobby was bustling with activity as she moved easily through the crowd to exit the building through the automated glass doors. A chauffeur standing in front of an all-black Tahoe awaited her with her name on a sign. She moved toward him, offering the short and stout driver in a black suit a polite smile.
“Ms. Bell?” he asked, turning to open the rear door for her when she nodded.
Jessa slid on the seat and immediately retrieved the first file, flipping through the pages until she found Hammer’s report detailing the daily activities of Horatio Montgomery. “Cigarros, please,” she said, speaking of the eighty-year-old private cigar club known for its Dominican and Cuban tobacco products and its exclusivity.
“Yes, ma’am.”
As the driver easily maneuvered through the congested traffic, she settled back against the plush leather seat, focusing her attention on the hustle and bustle of the city to keep her thoughts from wandering, from thinking of those she had already chosen to leave behind. To forget the years she had fought so hard for redemption, begged for forgiveness, and accepted disrespect.
I played myself for the fool. Time and time again.
“Ms. Bell.”
She turned her head, surprised to find the vehicle was double-parked and her driver stood there with the passenger door wide open. Shaking her head a bit, she gathered her tote and accepted his hand as she climbed from the SUV. “Thank you. I shouldn’t be any more than ten or twenty minutes,” she said.
Jessa paused to take in the sight of the three-story red-front building with its brass adornments. It was decidedly different from a lot of the more updated designs of the towering buildings on the street, but appeared more regal and respected than out of place. She approached the building and gave the uniformed doorman a stiff smile as he blocked her entrance to the red-frame glass door.
“I would like to meet with Mr. Horatio Montgomery, who is a member here,” she said, reaching inside her tote to withdraw her handwritten note to hand to him. “Please give him this for me.”
The doorman took the note with a stoic expression and entered the building, securing, shutting, and locking the glass door behind him. He was back within minutes, unlocking the door and pushing it wide for her to enter.
“Right this way,” a tall woman in all black said to her with a slight wave of her hand.
Jessa barely took note of her dim surroundings, the wooden interior that seemed a throwback to another century. She glanced back over her shoulder and noticed the glass in the mirrored doors was one way, and the busy back-and-forth pace of New Yorkers was clearly shown to the men sitting in the club chairs that were staged in groups of four around the first level of the cigar shop. She inhaled the scent of the cigars, not finding the smoky interior a bother, as she was led past different brass-trimmed glass cases housing pipes, ornate lighters, and humidors.
This was a place ideal for serious business discussion in a casual atmosphere.
And what I have to discuss with Mr. Montgomery is very serious.
She was well aware of the wealthy, elderly men in their tailored suits staring at her through the haze of fifty-dollar cigars and over the rims of their snifters filled with expensive liquor. She ignored them all as she was led to a trio of soft camel leather club chairs nearly hidden beneath a wrought iron stairwell leading to the upper level.
Jessa eyed the two men sitting there with their eyes on her. She immediately recognized them from Hammer’s surveillance. The tall one with smooth skin nearly as dark as a midnight sky and neatly groomed stark white hair and beard was Horatio Montgomery. The other, his attorney, was a fair-skinned balding man with freckles and a broad build that could only be described as barrel-chested.
She took the third seat, setting her tote on the seat beside her. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Montgomery,” she said, leveling her gaze directly on him.
“You made it difficult to ignore you after this,” he said in a deep and rich voice as he tossed her note onto the center of the table.
She eyed it and then shifted her eyes up to refocus her gaze on him. She knew what it said.
I have proof your wife is planning to divorce
you.
“That was the point,” she said, reaching inside her tote for the copy of his wife’s folder. She dropped it atop the note. “I didn’t appreciate your wife using my business to plot against you, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Horatio,” he offered as he picked up the file and began to read through it. Montgomery’s face soon filled with disbelief and then a hint of sadness.
Jessa knew that in that moment, the man’s heart was broken and his belief in his wife shattered. She connected to exactly how he felt. The disappointment. The hope lost. The shattered dreams.
Fool. Don’t worry, you’re not the only one.
“Is your business . . . legal?” Horatio asked, shifting in his chair as he crossed his legs and then shifted the crease of his pants.
Jessa gave him a slick smile, aware of what he was asking in the politest way possible, before she looked over her shoulder and motioned for the nearby server to come to her. “I’ll have whatever the gentlemen are drinking,” she said.
“One thing about words is that they’re varied. They can mean many things. Like yellow can be lemon or butter or saffron, but in the end it’s still yellow,” she said, pausing to accept the drink from the server and take a sip. It was an aged brandy, and smooth. “So, being asked if my business is legal is a trussed-up way to ask me if I’m a whore. Let’s not play with semantics, gentlemen.”
Jessa finished her drink and pulled her credit card from her wallet to hand the server. “Let me be clear,” she stressed, standing with her phone in hand to quickly turn her back to them and take a selfie with them both clearly in the background, “my business is very legal. My soon-to-be ex-husband served as my private investigator. Neither my agents nor I are whores. I married for love and not for money, unlike your scurrilous wife, who I suspect is trying to backdoor a private prenuptial agreement between you.”
The look the men shared told her she was correct.
She gave them a frosty smile as she signed her bill on the tray the server held. “One thing about whores. Some sell their pussy on the street. Some take calls and deliver the pussy. And some really put on a show and pretend to be the good wife when they marry strictly for money. A whore is a whore is a whore.”
She turned to leave.
“Ms. Bell, could you wait one minute?” the attorney asked.
Horatio had risen and was on his phone with his back to them.
She paused before facing them again. “Why? To receive more insults?” she asked.
“No,” Horatio said, turning to reclaim his seat. “To give me the opportunity to close my wife’s credit and bank accounts before you gloat to her about your payback, Ms. Bell.”
Jessa chuckled and did a mock applaud.
“I presume that’s why you took the photo.”
“Absolutely,” she assured him.
He gave the attorney a look, and he immediately rose to take his leave.
Horatio extended his hand toward the seat the man had vacated. She eyed it before she crossed the small space to sit down. “My apologies for insulting you,” he said.
Jessa inclined her head but remained quiet as she watched him relight his cigar.
“I mistakenly hoped I could reclaim some of my wounded pride by buying some time between your thighs,” he said, resting his eyes on her.
“Listen, old man, there would be nothing between these thighs of mine but a heart attack for you,” she said, her tone soft and slightly mocking.
He chuckled, exposing bright white teeth that gleamed against his dark lips.
“I have done many things in my lifetime, but sell pussy was never one of them,” she said, reaching over to take his cigar from his mouth to clamp between her lips.
“I think you’d make a fortune,” Horatio said.
She tilted her head back and blew a stream of thick smoke through pursed lips. “I agree.”
“Every man in this place is eyeing you, Ms. Bell.”
Jessa lowered her head and looked around, confirming what he said. “There’s something about women’s lips and phallic objects in public,” she explained, handing him back his cigar now stained with her crimson lipstick.
“I haven’t been with another woman during my entire marriage,” he said, his voice regretful. “It seems fidelity is outdated.”
“You think she’s cheating?” Jessa asked.
He nodded. “Don’t you?”
Jessa nodded as well. “Yes, I just didn’t get a chance to prove it.”
“Probably some young cat with a strong back and no damn money.”
She leaned in and tilted her chin toward him. He blew a thin stream of smoke toward her nostrils and mouth. She inhaled it all. “They were working on the money part,” she reminded him, as she exhaled.
His grip on the cigar tightened.
“Can I offer you some advice?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t cheat and risk losing a good chunk of your money behind some kitty-cat. Get rid of her ass first. Once you’re all good and divorced—or at least legally separated—than you find you some young, supple pussy to pump away all your frustrations.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bell,” he said, settling back in his chair with a melancholy expression.
“Jessa,” she offered as she rose to her feet. “I have to go. I have a meeting I don’t want to miss.”
He looked up at her.
“Good-bye, Horatio,” she said.
“Not good-bye, see you later,” he said, with a smile that did not overshadow the sadness in his eyes.
“Perhaps, Horatio, perhaps,” she said as she walked away from him.
Bzzzzz . . .
She looked down at her phone. An AirDrop notification. “Horatio’s iPhone would like to share contact information. Accept or decline?” she read, shaking her head at the wonders of modern technology as she accepted his info and also sent hers to him.
Her car service was waiting for her when she exited Cigarros. By the time she reached the vehicle, the driver had already exited the driver’s seat and come around the car to hold the door open for her.
“Where to next?” he asked, once back behind the wheel.
“One second,” she said, lowering the rear mirror so that the door to Cigarros was in her background before she FaceTimed Bella Montgomery.
Her image soon filled the screen. Jessa was instantly able to make out she was in Saks Fifth Avenue. “What has taken so long for you to return my calls?” she asked.
Jessa pouted, ready to relish the moment. “Are you shopping, Bella?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” she said.
“Well, unless you have cash, I wouldn’t skip my ass to the counter,” Jessa said, enjoying the look of confusion filling the woman’s eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“I just left a meeting with your husband, Horatio, here at Cigarros.” She moved her head out of the frame and showed the building. “I told him how you’re trying to backdoor your prenup by setting him up, and he canceled your card and froze your bank accounts. Trust me, ain’t nothing there, darling.”
Bella gasped before she ended the connection.
“She’ll call back,” Jessa said, sure the woman was checking her online accounts.
“Driver, head toward Bedford, New York. I’ll give you directions once we’re closer,” Jessa said as she closed the window and leaned back in her seat as he merged the vehicle with a break in the busy traffic.
She pulled out her tablet and stylus, drawing a red line through Bella Montgomery’s name. “Driver, could you turn on a little air?” Jessa asked as she added Mr. Halston’s name to the list and then proceeded to draw a line though that as well. Collateral damage. Fuck it.
Bzzzzzz . . .
She turned her phone over in her lap, chuckling as she picked it up and accepted the connection as she set her iPad to record. “Was I right, Bella? I hope you have cash on you. Then again, it’s not the best time to go on a shopping spree,” Jessa teased.
Th
e woman was livid and that was clear. “You treacherous, low-life, red-lipped, deplorable-ass trick!” she screeched, her tone high-pitched.
Jessa held the iPad with one hand and the phone with the other. “Just so we’re clear, you fucked with the wrong one, Bella,” she said, her tone hardening with coldness. “And I hope I get called in to testify because my—what was it again—treacherous, low-life, red-lipped, deplorable ass will be right there.”
Bella licked the gloss from her lips. “Do you understand what you have done skulking after my husband with your files and worrying about our private prenup?” she asked, shaking her head. “What proof did you have? That I tried to make sure my husband wasn’t cheating on me, so I tested him? Whoopee-fucking-doo, Jessa. You played your hand too soon, bitch, you have to know when to hold them and when to fold them.”
Jessa squinted at the change in her demeanor and the tone of her voice—nothing like what she presented herself to be when she first came to Mistress, Inc., months ago. “Once we caught on to your bullshit, Bella, I sent my dog after you, and your husband is very aware that you’re fucking his attorney,” she said, calling her bluff and making sure the iPad recorded her reaction.
Bella’s breathing became labored and she looked shocked.
Got ’em.
“Your husband knows it all. And I took great pleasure in being the one to deliver him the nail to hammer into your coffin,” Jessa gloated.
“You have destroyed my life,” Bella said between clenched teeth. “And if you think I’m going to let you get away with this, then you are one dumb-ass little bitch.”
Jessa tapped her nail against the screen. “Listen, I have to go, and you can’t afford any more of my time anyway,” she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders before she ended the call.
She made sure to block Bella’s number before pulling up Horatio’s info and calling him.
“That was quick,” he said, when he answered.
“New developments,” she said, momentarily taken aback at how his voice was richer and deeper in her ear. “Have you spoken to Bella?”
“No, not yet, my attorney advised against it until we get some more things in order.”
Mistress for Hire Page 21