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Marissa Harper was a wealth trophy wife turned widow. Now, she's on the prowl taking every chance she gets to forget her rotten marriage. One morning she wakes up and to her surprise that her new custodian is the sweet and exotic Antonio.
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Applying the mascara to my stubborn eyelashes, I removed the smeared lines around my mouth until my lipstick was perfect. Damn. This stupid dress kept on hiking up like there was a string pulling it. Those worthless tailors charged a fortune for standard Couture, yet my freaking thighs are still suffocating dreadfully. Or maybe I was just gaining a few pounds? My recent midnight cravings for loads of calories, while watching Devious Maids on Netflix have been torturing me. I felt like such a fat bitch.
I rubbed a piece of tissue on my cheek to get rid of the excess blush then checked my pearly whites for any lipstick stains that would later be embarrassing. Especially when giving my fake smiles to those full-of-shit-CEOs. Once my make-up was ready I fished out the silver hair clip letting my hair fall down. René was truly a genius. These dark extensions really looked fabulous. I first told him I wanted something different, “the dirty blonde look is definitely for you darling, don’t bother protesting just take my word for it.” He assured me, and gosh was he ever right. Never try to argue with a five-time award winning French hair dresser. It’s a futile battle.
“Excuse me, Miss Harper. Mrs. Gibson has arrived.”
Maria entered the room informing me.
“Wonderful, show her inside.”
I told her.
“Oh my god, do I know you?”
Kate yelled, making her usual dramatic entrance. I smiled flashing my new hairdo like the models always do on TV.
“You look like a teenager, and I the geeky best friend,” she pinched my tosh. But I couldn’t feel it since the fabric of the dress was so tightly fitted.
“Don’t be absurd Kate, you look gorgeous.”
And wasn’t lying to spare my best friend’s feelings, she looked very attractive in that pink strapless gown.
“So where’s Carl?”
“His mother is ill so he flew to London to check on her, which means I will have to be the spokeswoman tonight on his behalf.”
She replied as we both fix the bust line on our dresses.
“Mama’s boy,” I smirked to her.
“Hey, I love that about him; even though the old hag and I don’t get along, I still think it’s sweet.” She smiled to herself.
“You’re married to him for six years now and you still use the word ‘sweet’?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“It depends on the type of marriage you’re in, dear.” My smile faded.
“Well I would know about that.”
I muttered in low voice.
“I’m sorry Marissa, I didn’t mean to-”
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