Page 20 of Good Girls Like it Dirty
Chapter Seven
Zaine looked at the invitation with cursive font the courier had brought. In a week, he had an important ball to attend. Lara Annick, the head organizer of a future pediatric cancer hospital, was hosting a fundraising party in Honolulu. She still hadn’t officially chosen an architect for the project, but he knew she had to—she needed pitches and contracts to have an estimated amount to show to her board and to attract investors.
Zaine wouldn’t miss it for the world. His heart clutched. He’d lost his twin brother to pancreatic cancer. Zachary had been a gifted pianist, and such a generous soul. He’d be here today, talking to him and making him laugh, if that horrible illness hadn’t claimed him at thirty-four years old.
Because of his known talent, clients usually came to him and not the other way around. But he’d change the rules this time—as long as he worked on something big, to help ease the guilt of being alive while his brother was not. Besides, Lara had worked with Ashley in the past. He’d hate to lose the opportunity, and would hate even more to bring his personal affairs to her attention. Though, at this point most of their circle knew they’d separated and were headed for divorce.
They’d sent a joint letter to clients a few weeks prior, to assure them they’d still work together on projects they’d committed to. Was that still the case after he’d kicked her out of his home? He’d also called his lawyer and scheduled a meeting to talk about speeding the divorce process. At first, there’d been no real urgency. Zaine and Ashley were two adults, and parted amicably. Now, after the bad blood from their last exchange, he wanted to make sure he did whatever he could to expedite the paperwork.
His cell phone rang, and he scooped it from the table. Doug. He supposed this would be awkward any which way, so he might as well do it now. They hadn’t really chatted lately, what with Zaine not being in the mood for pretending to be nice. “Zaine here.”
“Hey, man.” Doug cleared his throat on the other end of the line. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Zaine grabbed a Mont Blanc pen from the stainless steel holder and played with it, rolling it in between his fingers. “What’s up?”
Doug breathed into the phone. Was he nervous? “Okay, so don’t hate me, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.”
Zaine sighed. “What is it?”
“I was invited to Lara’s party too, and I’m going…and I’ll try to get her business. Ashley would be my interior designer if it’s accepted. We’d work together.”
Zaine clenched the pen, his blood chilling. Oh, great. He would bet money that Ashley had gone to Doug with this vindictive scheme. She knew he’d wanted to be a part of that new hospital from when they were married, and rumors had started. “How unexpected,” he said ironically. “Let me guess, this would be Ashley’s idea?”
“Listen, this is a business decision. I thought I’d do the right thing and clear the air, let you know.”
“All right. Thanks,” he said, then hung up the phone.
He’d always welcomed competition and never feared it. After all, he’d worked hard to establish himself as one of the top architects in the country. His clients booked him a long time ahead and didn’t flinch at his rate.
I know why I’m worried.If Ashley really believed he’d cheated on her while married and for some reason wanted to take from him the one thing he wanted badly, she’d do anything to achieve her goal. He needed to keep his head in the game and be one step ahead of her. But how? He didn’t have a relationship with Lara Annick—not yet. That’s why this trip to Hawaii would be a chance to make a good impression and seize the opportunity. He’d make a fat donation and small talk and then schedule a lunch or dinner to show her his ideas. Unlike others who might be interested in the account, he had a personal reason to take it. He had passion. He had—
“Mr. Cavanaugh,” said his assistant through the intercom, pulling him from his thoughts. “Someone’s here to speak to you.”
He clicked on the button to speak. “I don’t see it on my calendar.”
“I’m sorry. It’s your housemaid. She said it’s an emergency and she wouldn’t tell me what it is.”
Maid? He’d called the agency earlier in the morning, but he expected the new cleaner to arrive in a couple of days. At his house, not in his office. He scratched his chin. Maybe they got the place wrong. “Send her in.”
Monique walked through the doors, wearing a black trench coat and high heels. She looked like the cover of a Vogue magazine. During the last couple weeks, they’d spent almost every night together. He’d decided not to overthink about her occasionally sleeping with him through the night—why would he? She had a ticket back to France, so he’d enjoyed her company, her sassy attitude, her sense of humor without guilt or worries.
“Why did you say you were the maid?” he asked when she closed the door behind her.
“Because I’m here to clean your office, Monsieur,” she said, removing the coat and tossing it across the room.
His mouth went dry.
Monique wore a short, tight black dress with a ruffled white apron tied at her waist. It reminded him of those Halloween maid costumes. She fished a small duster from her bag. “I figured you wouldn’t mind,” she said, and covered her mouth with her hand, feigning surprise. “You don’t mind, do you, Monsieur?”
He bit back a smile. Frenchie wanted to role-play. “Not at all.”
“Good,” she said, her accent more pronounced.
She flashed him a megawatt smile, and bent over the sofa enough so he could peek at her perky, round ass. Desire roared inside him, and he unbuckled his belt.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“Getting ready, sweet lady.”
