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“Trust me, I would love to. We never have to speak again so long as you stay away from Chris.”
“I’ll be here at least five more months and I’m contemplating staying the year.”
“Cease all communication with him.”
I frown. “He’s my boss, you can’t expect us not to talk.”
“I’ll know when it’s anything but business.”
“What did you plant a listening device at the penthouse?” This woman may be more calculated than Chris thought.
“Not your business.”
I shake my head. “How did you even find out about me?”
“I have my ways.”
I sigh as I stand up, accepting the fact that she’s not going to give me any more information. “Fine, but for what it’s worth, I hope you find happiness at some point, because if and when all of this is over with Chris, will you be happy? Rich, sure, but will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror for trying to destroy another person? I’m not saying he’s absolved from guilt, but do you think you’ll feel better in the end?”
She yawns and looks up at me as she slides her sunglasses back on. “Are you done? I’m really not in the mood to be lectured by my husband’s whore. Like your moral compass is so perfect.”
“I love him,” I tell her and I hate that she’s the first person to hear that but I want her to know that this isn’t a game to me. The person that stands to get hurt the most is me because at this point, I am convinced she doesn’t even love him and that this is more about her ego and getting revenge than her protecting her heart.
“Oh, please spare me.” She chuckles as she stands up. “You think he loves you?”
“I don’t know.” I lie, because I’m pretty sure Chris didn’t lie to me about that.
“I can assure you he doesn’t. He likes young pussy. I’ll admit he’s more enthralled with you than he’s been with the others but you’re all the same.” The thought of him with other women makes me irate but I do my best to quell the anger raging inside. “You think he’s been sitting at home pining for you while you’ve been here? Please. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was balls deep inside some other girl before you were even fully across the Atlantic Ocean.” My heart sinks at her words even though I don’t believe it. There isn’t anyone else. Just you. I can practically hear his voice in my head but her words still sting. She stands up and stares into my eyes. “He’s not a good person, Marissa. Get out before you get hurt.” She picks up the envelope and slides it into my hand again. Then she’s moving across the street towards a town car that has suddenly appeared outside of my building.
“You’ve reached Marissa. Leave a message.”
I end the call after trying her back to back, each going straight to voicemail. She should already be done for the day, but it’s possible she got stuck in a meeting.
Me: Thinking about you, baby. Call me.
A few hours go by and I still haven’t heard from her, which is unlike her. In the past month, we’ve talked every day, and often several times during any given day. I’m just about to text her again when I see the dots indicating that she’s typing. I watch as they appear and disappear a few times over the course of a minute. I press the button to call her and put the phone to my ear. “What the fuck?” I muse aloud when the call goes directly to voicemail.
Me: Why are you ignoring my calls?
Marissa: I can’t do this anymore.
Me: What’s going on? Talk to me, baby.
Marissa: Please, just let me go. It’s better this way.
Me: What are you talking about? And why aren’t you answering your phone?
My phone begins to ring in my hands and I answer it on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”
“Where are you?” she asks without answering my question.
“My office. Where are you?”
“My apartment.” She sighs. “But I’m about to go out. Your office at home or at work?”
She sounds like she’s had a drink and the thought of her upset, drunk, and in a foreign city is making me feel like a caveman. I resist the urge to text my assistant to prepare the jet until I have more context. “Work. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I met your wife.”
