Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“He’s using a fake name, but sticking with the same persona,” Mason starts and then looks at me. “Which could indicate that this character he’s playing is based on who he really is in real life.”
“That’s the best way to keep your story straight,” I continue. “And whatever he embellishes is probably what he’s lacking. Look, I know how to dig for info without coming off as obvious. He’s not going to trust me with top secret family info when all he wants is to sleep with me. Which is not happening, by the way.”
“Not even for our country?” Mason asks seriously and then laughs.
“No,” I say back, smiling as I shake my head. “Not even for that.”
“Tonight, I just want you to lay the groundwork for the next date.”
“Next date?” I ask, coming to a halt. Violet pulls forward and I take a few stumbling steps. “This isn’t a one-and-done kinda thing?”
“You just said it yourself. He’s not going to trust you after one date.”
“Yeah, but the more time I spend with him, the more my own cover story is likely to be blown.”
“You’ll be perfectly safe,” he assures me. “I’ll be there the whole time, watching out of sight. And I’ll get you an earpiece so you—”
I gasp excitedly and turn, hand going to his arm. “Like in the movies?”
Mason chuckles again. “I guess so.”
“Ohh, this is going to be fun.”
“It’s work.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” We start walking again but I only make it a few steps before I come to a sudden stop again, quickly turning so I can walk the other direction. But Violet keeps going, pulling my arm so instead of turning, I walk right into Mason’s firm chest. Both of his large hands land on my arms, steadying me. He raises an eyebrow in question but before he can ask what the heck I’m doing, she sees me first.
Chapter
Ten
MIRA
“Mira,” my former mother-in-law calls and her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I groan and let out a sigh.
“Just ignore her,” I tell Mason and step back. His hands stay on my arms and our eyes lock, holding the gaze for just a second too long. His hazel eyes are rimmed with dark green, and I didn’t notice it until now, with the sunlight reflecting off of them. “Or arrest her,” I add and step back, shaking myself back to reality.
“Well, I wasn't expecting this.” Karen stops and shakes her hair back. She was a good looking woman back in the early nineties and has hung onto that look ever since. I give her kudos for not caving to societal trends and for sticking to the overly teased hair and contrasting lip liner. Her drawn-on eyebrows are still pencil thin and I’m choked by the overpowering scent of her perfume.
It’s strange, how for years this woman called me the daughter she always wanted and then suddenly changed her tune when she realized her son was having an affair. She hid it, helped him cover his tracks, and even justified not only the physical abuse I endured but the fact that he cheated, saying he was a needy boy who needed extra love.
Barf.
Just admit you wish you were still breastfeeding him at this point, woman.
“Hello, Karen,” I say with a fake smile. “It’s been over two years. Time to move on.”
“Apparently you have. A little fast, don’t you think? It’s like my son meant nothing to you.”
“No, I don’t. Have a nice day.” I give Mason’s arm a tug and we start walking again. He takes an interested look at Karen and then waits until we’re out of earshot to look at me curiously.
“Mother of a former boyfriend?”
“Husband,” I say ruefully. “Filed for divorce years ago.”
“Ahhh, the mother-in-law. Or a monster-in-law in your situation?”
“Oh, definitely a monster.” I shrug. “Though she wasn’t always. We got along really well until her son got caught.”
“Cheating?”
I nod. “And…never mind.”
“Okay,” he says and doesn’t pry. I’m an open book when it comes to the past traumas I’ve dealt with since it’s a big focus on my podcast, but I also know the overhearing is a trauma response. It’s something I help my clients deal with, but I’m better at giving advice than taking it. “She’s taking pictures of you.”
I’m tempted to turn around and look but resist. “She always does. I don’t know why.” I let out a snort of laughter. “One of my friends saw her standing outside a restaurant once holding a binder full of screenshots of all my social media posts.”
“Someone is obsessed with you.”
“You can say that again.”
He shakes his head and puts his arm around me. “Might as well give her something to talk about.”
I laugh and look up at him. “Ohh, two fake boyfriends in a row.”
“Consider this practice for tonight.”
Fuck, it’s been so long that I’ve had any physical contact from a man. That’s why Mason’s arm feels so good around my shoulders. Nothing more, nothing less. We take a seat on a bench and Violet’s tail wags as she sniffs around a garbage can.