The Sinful Lives of Trophy Wives

by Kristin Miller

  “What’s the matter?” Robert says into her ear. “You’re not angry with me, are you?”

  She nuzzles against his chest, her gown fanning over his legs and onto the floor in a sea of beads and shimmering sequins. “I’m not angry, but…”

  Using two fingers, he tilts her chin up so she’s looking him square in the eye. “But what, my love?”

  If I weren’t married to Mason, I’d fall in love with Robert this instant. I’d thought before when watching Jack with Brooke that perhaps the shine in my marriage had simply worn off. But this—Mason has never made this type of romantic gesture. Disappointment and jealousy twist my stomach into a knot.

  “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, G. More than anything in this world. Signing this means that I love you for you, and you love me for me. To hell with the money.”

  She stiffens in his arms. “Robert, I don’t see it that way at all. I know you love me, and you know I love you. But signing this means you don’t trust me. It means you’re just like every other person in this damn city—you think I killed them.”

  “You know I don’t think that.”

  But I just might…

  “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what signing this document proves.” She strokes the back of her hand down his cheek, and as her ring catches the final rays of the setting sun, the diamond sends flecks of color starbursting over the ceiling and walls. “If you ask me to sign this, it proves that you have doubts about my integrity. I would never”—she chokes back a sob—“I would never hurt you, Robert.”

  Oh, she’s good.

  His gaze turns tender, as if she’s hurt him immensely. “I don’t think you’re capable of hurting anyone, baby. You’re the kindest, most generous woman I’ve ever met. I’m not scared for my life, or my future—that’s not what this contract is about. It’s about eliminating the pressure of thinking about your money, our money, or what would happen in the case of divorce.”

  She pulls away from him slightly. “So that’s what this is about? You think I’m going to divorce you and take you for everything?”

  His grip tightens on her upper thigh, his fingers digging into the beading, as she tries to stand up. “I’m not going to lose you, Georgia. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If this thing makes you feel like I don’t trust you, then fine. Tear it up.”

  “Don’t play with me,” she says weakly.

  “Here. I’ll do it.” He snatches the papers from her hands, tears the contract to pieces, and then tosses them over his shoulder. “It is my pleasure to erase all the doubt from your mind.”

  Cupping his cheeks in her hands, she plants a long kiss on his lips. “I love you, Robert. I’ve never been this happy before. I can’t wait to make you mine.”

  And I know from her tone that she’s telling the truth. Some of what she said earlier was blowing smoke. And she wasn’t about to cry, the way she wanted him to believe. But when it comes to her level of happiness, she’s being forthright. Robert makes her happy. I’ve never seen her skin glow this way, and it’s not from the colors of the setting sun.

  Robert leaves the master suite, grinning broadly, his shoulders pulled back as if he’s just completed a great feat.

  “Thanks for being a witness to that. I needed someone to see that it was his idea to do away with this stupid thing, and not mine.” She kicks the shreds of prenup with the toe of a diamond-dusted Jimmy Choo. “Ready to party?”

  “Absolutely.”

  It really is too bad that no one can see how Georgia works a man. How she can make him believe anything she wants, and truly make him think an idea was his, when it was in her master plan all along. If I want to fix the issues in my life, I’m going to have to take a page out of Georgia’s sinister playbook.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BROOKE

  It really is a magical night.

  I’ve met so many people I couldn’t have had I stayed home, cooped up in the house. Convincing Jack to come with me, after he’d been in terrible meetings all day and hit traffic coming home, had taken some work. But I’m glad he’s here, on my arm tonight. Usually I’m the one on his arm, being introduced to his friends. I was looking forward to the shoe being on the other foot. He’d declined Mason gracefully when he suggested they go “shot for shot” at the bar. He’d expertly ditched out of a hushed conversation when it began to veer toward Georgia’s past husbands.

  I’ve never loved him more.

  Robert had had dinner catered, and we ate eggplant rotolo, chicken cacciatore, and tiramisu as we sailed beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. I had three—or maybe it was four—glasses of some kind of strawberry mango cocktail. Don’t know the name, but they were delish. We danced on the outdoor deck, beneath the twinkling twilight, and toasted Georgia and Robert and their union just a few short days away.

  The weather had been refreshingly cool all evening. Jack had offered his coat when a chill came over me, while I was talking to Erin on the back deck. Even though I would’ve been fine without his warmth, since he offered in front of Erin and another Presidio Terrace wife, I’d happily accepted.

  It’s all about creating that fairy tale. I may not write romance, but that doesn’t mean I don’t read it, and everything in those books is about making people think that the happily ever after of their dreams is within arm’s reach.

  I like doing that with Jack.

  Pretending we have it all.

  From the lounge chairs on the bow, Georgia, Erin, and I point at clusters of stars and try to guess their names. A few times, they crack up and smack each other around playfully, apparently sharing some kind of private joke, and it makes me wish I had that type of friendship in my life. I tip back another drink to keep the delightful fizziness bubbling through me.

  “Can you believe what he wanted me to sign?” Georgia says, still laughing. “There was no way that was happening. Only thing I’m donating is this boat.”

  Although I don’t know what she’s referring to, her words get me thinking.

  “I must confess,” I say, slurring a little, curling my legs beneath me, “I was expecting your husband’s yacht to be a busted heap.”

  “Because I hate it,” Georgia says sweetly, sipping her ice-blue cocktail. “Understandable, but I don’t despise this thing because it’s run-down. It’s a terrible sap on his energy that he could be spending on me.”

  As a strong gust of wind whips around the yacht, Erin nods as if she understands completely and tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Quality time is important. That’s one of the reasons I was so excited about having a break from work. If only Mason would do the same—even for a week. I understand why he can’t, of course, he’s got a business to build, but still.” She tells us about the text message from the station, and how she’s planning to go back after Georgia’s wedding. Then, when she’s done gushing about how much she loves her job, she looks to me. “What did you do before you met Jack?”

  “Same thing I do now. I write books.”

  “What kind of books?” Georgia asks, turning toward me completely.

  Now I have her attention. Funny how it happens that way. Jack says I’m his eye candy, the trophy on his arm, until people ask what I do for a living, and suddenly my interesting factor blasts up ten degrees.

  “Murder mystery, mainly.”

  A hot rush of blood heats my cheeks. I usually blush when people ask about my writing, but this is partially fueled by the liquor surging through me. I’m so thankful that my publisher handles promotion. My weakness, even in my pageant days, was the way I wilted in the spotlight. Writing, I can handle. Promotion, I simply can’t.

  “Murder mystery?” Erin sits up straighter, plants her feet on the ground, and leans closer. “Oh, Brooke, you just became my favorite person on the planet. Have you thought about being published?”

 
Despite the cool drink, a fire breaks out in my stomach. “I am published, actually. My first book came out last year. I’m already working on my second.”

  “What’s this one called?” Georgia asks quickly.

  “The Nightmare Next Door.” My lips are so numb I almost bumble the title.

  “Sounds wonderfully sinful,” Erin says with a dark laugh. “How’s it going?”

  I chew on the side of my lip. “I must admit I’m a bit stuck.”

  “We can help! Put us in the book!” Erin exclaims, as if the idea just jolted through her like lightning. She pulls a strand of hair over her shoulder and begins twisting. “I can be the lead. Gorgeous, of course. Make sure you only mention my best qualities.”

  “Then you should leave out her anxious tics,” Georgia quips.

  “I do not have tics.” Erin drops her hair and folds her hands in her lap. “If Brooke wrote you into the book, she’d probably want to leave out the strange ways your previous husbands died. That’d make you look simply terrible. Guilty as hell. On the other hand, it’d make really interesting reading material. We could tell Brooke all the gory details and let her decide. What do you think?”

  “Erin.” Georgia speaks a single quiet word. A warning. “Have you seen Robert anywhere? Would you mind fetching him for me? I sent Mason to search for him earlier, but he didn’t have any luck.”

  Erin rises slowly. “Sure. But you shouldn’t be worried. Unless someone pushed him overboard, he’s here somewhere.”

  Georgia looks out over the glossy water, and a few boats puttering around in the distance, her dark hair whipping about her face as the yacht picks up speed. I want nothing more than to ask about the gory details Erin had mentioned. They would make interesting writing material. I could use the book to expose her dirty laundry. I’d substitute other names, of course, but she would know. And I would know. The rest of the world would simply fall in love with an enchanting character hiding behind a murderous veil.

  Jack and I would have to move to a different neighborhood after the book releases, but that won’t be for another year, about the time I’ll want to be moving on anyway. We have plenty of time. Anything can happen by then. My fingers itch to get back to the keyboard, but first, I need background. I have to dig around and figure out what really happened to her husbands. Excitement buzzes through me.

  After Erin traipses down the spiral staircase leading below-decks, Georgia says, “Do you put people you meet into your books?”

  I smack my lips together, enjoying the way they tingle. “Not usually.”

  “That’s good,” Georgia says, “because people would be cautious around you if they thought there was a possibility that they could land in one of your novels. They’d watch their words more carefully. They wouldn’t want you to get too close…they might even view you as a threat, rather than a friend. Oh, there’s my fiancé. Would you excuse me?”

  As she excuses herself and practically skips into Robert’s open arms, I lean back and stare up at the night sky. I hear the threat, I say to myself. But I don’t care. Not at all. Nope-noppity.

  Because I know for a fact Georgia is hiding something. And she doesn’t want anyone to learn her dirty little secret.

  Alone on deck, I realize I have yet to see the water. When I reach the edge of the bow, cocktail in hand, I feel a little like Leonardo DiCaprio declaring himself the King of the World. Only I’m a Stranger on Maxine. Doesn’t have the same ring. I laugh at the stupidity of my silent joke. Georgia would be Mistress of Maxine, wouldn’t she? That sounds much better. Perhaps I should be setting my next book on a yacht, much like this one. There could be a party, a struggle. My lead character could disappear, which would lend to the suspense. Where could someone hide a body on a yacht? I bet there’s a captain’s cabin, or lower quarters where someone could fold a body into a closet until everyone disembarked.

  That’s probably how I would do it.

  From out of nowhere, strong hands clutch my waist and jolt me forward, as if to push me overboard. Screaming, I drop my cocktail into the dark water roiling below and rear back, attempting to elbow the person behind me.

  Jack barely ducks out of the way. “Whoa, you’re dangerous with those elbows!” He wraps his arms around me protectively and pulls me back from the edge. “I just saved your life, you know.”

  Fighting off the surge of adrenaline, I rest my head back on his chest. “No, you almost pushed me over.”

  “We’re the only ones out here,” he says darkly. “Who would know the difference?” And then he barks out a laugh and squeezes me tight. “Don’t be mad. You know I was just teasing. I would never let anything happen to you.”

  Something inside me twinges, but it must be a dump of adrenaline in my gut. Jack would never hurt me. I’m safe.

  “Then it’s a good thing you were here to save me.” I spin around in his arms so that I’m looking up into his dark eyes and realize my entire body has gone tingly. “I was plotting. You know all those puzzle pieces I told you about earlier? I’ll have to rewrite some things, but I know how I’m going to make them fit now.”

  “It’s about time,” he says.

  Jack brings his stare to mine, and his face blurs in the moonlight. Sometimes it seems as if he has two faces—a dark, shadowed one and a really freaking handsome one that catches the light perfectly. The dark face looks mean, with a twisted half-nose and demon eye. The other half, I want to kiss until I pass out.

  “I told you a change of scenery would do you good,” he says from the handsome side of his mouth. “I’m glad you’re back on course. Now you won’t be so stressed all the time.”

  Nope, I’d been wrong. That came out of the demon side. They’re blending into one now, and I can’t see a clear division. That happens sometimes though, doesn’t it? Sometimes he can be so sweet, and other times I think not. But he’s my Jack, and I love him no matter what. Thick and thin and all that other stuff I vowed.

  “I have some research to do first,” I say, my words melting together, “so that’ll take a few days before I dive in. Hanging out with Georgia and Erin has been amazing for my muse.”

  “I’m proud of you, Brooke.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the way I love. “Perhaps you’ll get even more inspiration this weekend. We’re invited to their wedding.”

  “What?”

  “You know how much I hate repeating myself. You shouldn’t have had that last cocktail. You’ve had more than enough.” He drops his hands from my waist and shoves them in his pockets. “I was about to say that I was having a drink with Robert, we got to talking, and it turns out we have a few associates in common. He wants us to come to the wedding on Saturday. I’ll make sure I’m not working.”

  “Associates?”

  “No one you would know.” His jaw tightens. “People from work.”

  And I know that’s the end of that conversation. Whoever those associates are, he doesn’t want me to know anything about them. He’d say it was to protect me, but I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think he simply likes to keep secrets, to hold things over my head because doing so keeps me in the dark and makes him seem powerful.

  “Anyway, I told them we’d be happy to accept the invitation. We’re getting close to docking,” he says, as the boat’s motor quiets to a hum beneath us. “Let’s go inside with the others and thank our gracious hosts for this evening. We don’t want to seem antisocial.”

  As we enter through the sliding doors, I realize everyone is ready to leave. In my state, I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten to the dock. Where we’d embarked is right there—we’ll be anchored up in a few short minutes. The entire group is huddled near the doors on the opposite side, talking and laughing and saying goodbyes. Erin and Mason are in the corner near the bar, having a quiet conversation. It could be my vision blurring again, but Mason doesn’t seem happy. His lips are p
ressed so firmly together, they’ve gone white. He nods finally, throwing his hands in the air as if he can’t be bothered, then points to his phone and disappears into the crowd. When Erin turns to me, she grins broadly and makes her way over.

  “Mason’s heading into work to get a few things done. Always busy, that guy. You’re staying, aren’t you?” she gushes, crossing her hands over her chest. “Tell me you’re staying. We’ll have so much fun.”

  “Staying?” I ask.

  “Overnight. Onboard. Georgia invited us exclusively. Everyone is leaving but us.” She nudges her chin at the guests ready to disembark. “What about you?”

  “Oh no, I’m afraid…” Jack begins, but Erin touches his shoulder to cut him short.

  “You have to stay. It’ll be Georgia and Robert, of course, and unfortunately Mason has to take a work call, so he’ll be gone, but if you both stay, it’ll be a real party. We’re going to dance all night, maybe play a few rounds of Truth or Dare. It’ll be a blast.”

  Truth or Dare? Oh, I’d love to pick Georgia’s brain…

  Jack gently takes my elbow, a sign I’m supposed to leave with him. But I don’t want to leave. I want to get as close to Georgia as possible, and I want this happy-fuzzy feeling inside me to keep going strong.

  “I don’t think so, Erin. Maybe another time,” Jack says, moving toward the main group as the yacht docks. “But thanks for the offer.”

  Without thinking about the consequences, I blurt, “He’s right, he can’t stay tonight, but I can! Count me in.”

  Erin squeals happily, bouncing up and down on her designer heels. Jack glares at me from the demon side of his face.

  “I know you have to leave for work early, sweetheart,” I say, brushing my hand down his shoulder, “so I’ll hitch a ride home with them in the morning. That way you won’t have to worry about how you’re going to pick me up.”