Read Online The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide by Josie Brown - Free Book Online Page B

can’t shoulder this burden forever. 
    I want to watch my kids grow up. I want to be there when they go off to college, get married, and have children of their own.
    I want Jack at my side, forever.
    Until death do us part.
    The next time he hears that line, I want him to think of what he has with me, not what he lost when Valentina walked out of his life.
     

    “Does champagne make you tipsy?” Sugar CEO Number Two sounds hopeful as he holds a bottle of Tattinger’s over my glass.
    I reward him with a shy smile. “It’s fun to lose control every now and then, don’t you agree…Richard?” 
    As if . I’m beginning to believe that “control” is this guy’s middle name. It’s anyone’s guess as to his last name, or any other clue as to his identity.
    On the hour ride from San Francisco to Woodside I had very little success getting him to talk about what he did for a living. And no matter how many ways I tried to get him to reveal his last name or his job, he played it coy. “All that corporate bullshit will bore you to tears, sweetheart. Let’s just keep things friendly.”
     By “friendly,” he means allowing his hands to cup my breasts while he probes my molars with his tongue.
    I’ve no doubt he presumes I’m the dessert after the gourmet meal of filet mignon, broccoli stir-fry and mashed potatoes, which we ate in a private tent overlooking Woodside California’s polo fields. But now our little picnic is almost over. I’ve only got another half hour before Richard leaves me for a white Arabian mare named Pure as Driven Snow. 
     To keep him here, I’ll have to be anything but. 
    Even now Arnie whines, “He’s much too close for our facial recognition software to get a good fix on his features. Can’t you get him to back off?”
    “Sure she can,” Jack mutters, “by putting her heel in his groin.”
    Wishful thinking on both our parts. Alas, that would defeat the purpose.
    Since I got into the car, Emma and Arnie have been working furiously to place him. But who knew San Francisco had so many steely-eyed mid-fortysomething corporate bigwigs named “Richard,” who are six feet tall, just gray enough around the edges, and own a polo team?
    As if reading my mind, Emma murmurs into my diamond-studded audio feed, “We’ve narrowed down the list of potential suspects to five.”
    Really? That many?
    Time’s a’wasting. I toss back the flute of bubbly. Then slowly I run my tongue over my lips and murmur, “Aren’t you going to join me?”
    Richard sighs. “Believe me, I wish I could. But if I’m going to ride without falling off my horse, I should hold off until after the match.”
    I give him a playful pout. “It’s no fun getting tipsy all by myself.” I brush against him when I reach into the picnic hamper. Pulling up another champagne flute, I whisper, “One tiny little sip won’t knock you off your horse, will it?”
    He eyes both the glass and me longingly. Finally he nods. “I guess you’re right.”  
    I take the bottle from his hand. “Let me do the honors. As much as I love being treated like a queen, today I’d prefer to play handmaiden. ” 
    That raises a smile on his face, not to mention a tent in his polo breeches.  
    I’m sure it also helps that, when I pour the champagne into his glass, I arch my back in such a way that my vee-neck blouse drops between my breasts.
    While his eyes are otherwise occupied, I watch his face for Arnie’s sake, praying now that I’m just close enough for him to get a lead on the guy. At the same time, I slide the jade stone on my ring and tilt it so that a dose of SP-117 pours into his glass. 
    He gulps down the champagne. Good, because the sooner his opens up, the better. I keep up the small talk, complimenting him on topics he’s already deemed safe: the filet mignon; his Bentley; his polo skills; the size of his biceps beneath his polo shirt; the size of the tent in his breeches—
    Until, finally, his eyes glaze over.