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Jacqueline made sure of that.
Part 2
Caught
A Confession
I’m a fake.
A fraud.
And above all else, I am a liar.
The things I’ve lied about… they’re not things other women would consider verboten. They lie all the time too. The number of lies I’ve seen pile up in my business is nothing. For those people, it’s easy to lie. I admit, it’s easy for me to lie, too. Spin a few tales to get what I want. Do you know how women like us stay so damn rich? We lie. Constantly. Either by layering pleasantries upon you or outright lying about data we have. When you’re born with a silver spoon in your mouth, it’s second nature to lie.
We lie to keep clients. We lie to keep staff around. We lie to get laid. And we definitely lie to make ourselves look better than we are.
Suffice to say, there’s a lot I’ve lied about.
I haven’t lied about my identity. My name is Helen Warner, daughter of Gerome and Isolde Warner. My father was amillionaire when I was born, and my name alone carries over a billion in my personal coffers. So, I’m rich. I’m filthy rich. I never lied about that – if anything, I downplay my worth to keep people off my tail. Not that it works.
You’ve never heard of me because I keep a low profile. I don’t go to many social gatherings, and I don’t make my business transactions public. Some women are always on Page 6 and making waves inThe Wall Street Journal. That’s not my style. Why would it be when I would much rather watch the world unfold from elsewhere?
Because you’ve never heard of me, you have no idea what I’m lying about. Neither does Monique, the woman I’m falling over backward to lie to.
I didn’t mean to start lying to her. I only told her the simple fibs I tell everyone when I first meet them. Like how I never heard of her or knew what kind of woman she was.
Of course, I’ve heard of Monique Grant. Who the hell hasn’t, even if she doesn’t come from a great background? Middle-class, white suburban America. Average university. Even more average major. It’s what she did right out of college that everyone knows her for: become the long-term girlfriend of Jacqueline Love, one of the most mercenary businesswomen in the world. Nowthere’sa woman everyone has heard of. A lot of people admire her, too. Not surprising, since people are always trying to figure out how to make a billion more bucks.
So I lied when I told Monique I had never heard of her. Hell, that I had never met her before. We had come across each other’s paths several times over the past decade. Except I never saw her without Jacqueline Love until a few weeks ago, when my friend and colleague Sam Witherspoon dragged me to Monique’s place of business.
Here’s a secret – and it isn’t a lie.
I’ve been madly in love with Monique Grant for years.
She’s a gorgeous woman. A subtle beauty, who doesn’t wear much makeup and doesn’t do anything special with her hair. I like that in a woman. I’m always around women who are done up to the nines. It can be beautiful as well, but there’s something special about a woman who blends into the crowd. I want to know more about those types of women. What’s going on in their minds? What are they privy to see that others aren’t? The first woman in the room that I notice is a woman like Monique. And I’ve noticed her many, many times.
Of course, Monique doesn’t know that I’ve been in love with her for years. Of course, “love” has different kinds of meanings. The love I felt was more infatuation for a woman I could never have. Then something happened between her and Jacqueline Love, and Monique disappeared from my social sphere.
Until Sam Witherspoon dragged me to that blasted Manoir and I was face to face with Ms. Grant all over again.
She didn’t remember me. I didn’t expect her to, but she was as beautiful as ever. Perhaps even more so, because she was no longer in that monster’s shadow. She seemed more confident, surer of herself…
Sadder.
It wasn’t until later that she told me what happened with her ex-Mistress. Abuse. Sad fact of this lifestyle we choose to live sometimes… women in power, especially those born with it like Love, will use it as an excuse to hurt others. I’ve seen it happen countless times. I was enraged to find out it happened with someone as kind and interesting as Monique.
Don’t tell her this. I’m already in deep water because of the lies I’ve told her. I need to find out the best time to tell her for myself. She’s already shown me more trust than she has any right to give someone in my station. Anyone at all. I fully realize that I may be her last chance, so to speak. If I botch this, then that woman may never trust another Mistress again.
It’s a lot of pressure. Pressure I’ve put myself under because I foolishly believed I wouldn’t become more besotted with her. Well, I have. The deeper I fall in love with Monique, the more I sense certain darkness on the horizon.
How deep can I go with her? Is she in love with me?
I wish those were the most daunting questions I have to answer. For, you see, there is one secret I’m still hiding from the both of you that would destroy everything I’ve built. There’s no way for me to tell her about that.
So what do I do? Fall in love and hope it never comes up?
This happiness I’ve suddenly found myself in is a ticking time bomb. When – not if – it goes off, there will be more than one casualty.
