Chapter 2 - The Perfect Hostess
When I unlocked the door to our Queens apartment that evening, it smelled of expensive cologne and takeout I had paid for.
Landon was sprawled on the leather sofa, wearing a silk robe, aggressively tapping on his iPad. He didn't even look up when I wheeled my suitcase inside.
"You're late," he snapped. "And my account is still empty. Your father was incredibly rude to me last night, by the way. You’ve poisoned them against me."
I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of ice water, and leaned against the granite counter. "I'm sorry about the transfer, Landon. The bank flagged it because I was out of state. I’ll go to the branch tomorrow morning and wire it directly."
He scoffed, finally looking at me. "You always find a way to mess up the simplest tasks. Make it $5,000. I have a crucial networking dinner this weekend. I need to host."
"Of course," I said smoothly. "In fact, why don't you host them here? Tomorrow night."
Landon blinked, caught off guard. "Here?"
"Yes. You’re always talking about how important these clients are. Let me cook. Let me show them how supportive I am of your consulting firm. You can invite anyone you want."
His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but his ego was a ravenous beast. The idea of playing the wealthy, successful businessman in his own home, with his wife serving him, was too intoxicating to pass up.
"Fine," he said, puffing out his chest. "But don't embarrass me. And I'm inviting Belle. She's a... junior associate I'm mentoring. She needs to see how high-level negotiations work."
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My heart hammered against my ribs, but my face remained perfectly blank. He was actually bringing his mistress into my home. The audacity was breathtaking.
"I can't wait to meet her," I smiled.
