Read Online Decaffeinated Corpse by Cleo Coyle - Free Book Online Page B

word of hers as well as his.

    “What’s up?” Matt checked his wristwatch. “It’s after midnight.”

    Laughter followed on the other end of the line. “Matteo, you’re getting old.”

    “We’re the same age, Bree, and it’s Tuesday night.”

    “ Bishoujo is launching a new fragrance. Those Japanese designers really know how to party. The event’s still going strong at Nobu—”

    “Sorry, I’m done in.”

    “Oh, darling, so am I! You know I’m just teasing. How did that little tasting of yours go with Federico?”

    “It . . .” Matt hesitated. “Fine . . . it went fine.”

    “Good. He’s such a charmer, just like you. . . . So you’re obviously free now. That’s why I had my driver swing by to pick you up.”

    “Pick me up?”

    “We’re parked right downstairs, next to the Blend.”

    “I’m not dressed—”

    “Good.” Throaty laughter followed. “That’s the way I like you—”

    Matt glanced at me, his face actually registering a flash of embarrassment. He turned away then, taking the wireless handset across the room. As he continued the conversation (which sounded to my ears more like an argument), I moved to the window, pulled back the sheers, and looked down into the street.

    A black Town Car was parked beside the curb. A tall, blond woman was pacing back and forth, a cigarette in one hand, a cell phone in the other. The editor-in-chief of Trend magazine looked every inch the chic-meister. A stunning claret and black gown hugged her model-slender figure, a sleek sable wrap caressed one creamy shoulder, rubies dripped from her ears, and her upswept hair boasted an elaborate salon-designed tower that shouted labor-intensive do.

    “Bree insists I come back with her,” Matt told me upon hanging up.

    “Well . . .” I shrugged, folded my arms. “You have to admit, a king-size penthouse bed with five-hundred-dollar sheets is a lot more comfortable than a narrow antique sofa.”

    “Yeah.”

    There wasn’t much enthusiasm in my ex-husband’s tone. It sounded more like obligation, and I wondered what was going on in his head. For almost a year Matt had been squiring the woman to launch parties, political fundraisers, and charitable events. Their photos had been splashed in Gotham , Town and Country , and the Post ’s “Page Six.” The publicity was a great boost to Matt’s profile as he expanded our business. Yet, over the summer, he’d told me that he and Breanne were just “casual,” and he had no intention of becoming enmeshed in her life.

    As summer turned into fall, however, it seemed to me that Breanne was becoming increasingly manipulative and demanding. My ex-husband may have been using Bree for her connections, but she appeared to be exacting a price.

    After hanging up, Matt went upstairs and returned with a small gym bag. He hadn’t bothered to pack a change of clothes, just underwear and toiletries. Obviously, he had no intention of staying very long at Breanne Summour’s penthouse.

    “See you tomorrow, hon—” he began, then corrected himself as he pulled open the door. “Sorry. I meant Clare.”

    “Matt?” I called.

    “Yeah?” He turned, one hand still on the doorknob.

    “Does Breanne know about Ric and his breakthrough?”

    “Of course, she knows. I introduced them last week.”

    “So you invited Bree to Friday’s launch tasting at the Beekman Hotel, right?”

    “Her magazine is going to cover it. Trend is very influential. One article can have a tremendous impact.”

    Pillow-talk publicity, I thought. “Did she, by any chance, know about Ric coming to the Blend tonight?”

    “As a matter of fact, I was with her when I took the call from Ric earlier today. When he heard about my giving you his beans to taste test with our baristas, he said he wanted to drop by and see what they thought. Bree wanted me to go with her to some launch party tonight, but frankly I was happier coming to the Blend . . . until the mugging, that