It All Began in Monte Carlo Read Online Free PDF

far she’d only managed to buy a secondhand Chanel bag on eBay and a pair of Louboutin stilettos at an outlet sale. Kitty did not own a diamond ring, not even a small one; not even the diamond ear studs that were a simple symbol of a woman’s success; and certainly not that pricy gold Rolex. Kitty did not even own her own apartment. Age was creeping up on her and with it had come a desperate need for money and a new career.
    Kitty Ratte was a predator. Seduction was her game, man or woman. And she was good at it, always playing the subservient friend, the wannabe lover who promises to give you everything you ever wanted sexually, and then more, who could flatter a man into feeling twenty years old again.
    Kitty was admitting to forty-nine, at least that’s what she told her current lover, Jimmy, the failed English accountant and used-car salesman, married and living in suburban Surrey, England, where, of course, he was at this moment. In fact the true number was twelve years higher, and now her body was starting to reflect that lie. No towering stilettos could disguise the cellulite thighs, and no padded bra could give her breasts the lovely upward thrust of youth, nor take away the creases between them that were becoming daily more apparent. Faking it was becoming more and more difficult. Time was running out.
    Kitty had almost had her chance for the brass ring once. Not so long ago. He was married of course. Weren’t they all? And old. In his seventies. But he was rich. After all, why else would a woman fuck an old man but for his money?
    She’d seduced him, parading in front of him in leopard bikini pants and stilettos. She told him she loved him and the poor old idiot believed her. He was wonderful, she said. He was so attractive, and so sexy. How could his wife
not
want him? Ooh, how he’d lovedit. She had him entranced. Of course she made him promise never to betray her, never to tell the wife, or anyone her name, because she didn’t want to be named in the divorce. She threatened him with silence, if he did tell her name, she said her “real” lover would make sure the man and his wife would suffer in ways he couldn’t even begin to dream of. I’ll never name you, never betray you he promised eagerly.
    Let’s run away together, she said to him. To Paris, St. Tropez. Just you and me. How wonderful it will be. I love you so much.
    He said he would give up everything for her. But first he had to go back, work out the financial situation. What financial situation? Kitty wondered.
    Still, she’d won. He left the wife, the family, the home, even the three dogs. He had nothing.
    Turned out that was the truth. He had nothing. The wife was the one with all the money.
    What do I want with an old man like you, with no money? she’d asked, when he tried to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, they loved each other and he would be divorced and they would be together and that was all that mattered. Go back to your wife, she said contemptuously. She’ll take you back. They always do. And she was right. The wife did. And that was that.
    At least, sort of. He still promised he would get his hands on the money. Half of it was his, he said. So Kitty kept up the torture just in case. Besides she wanted to hurt him for deceiving her about his finances.
    Just wait, he begged.
    So Kitty waited. Screw the wife. Now Kitty wanted
the wife’s
life; she wanted to
be
the woman his wife was; she wanted the respect and the money that came along with it. She wanted to be
her.
    She left a message for him on their private phone, the prepaid one where only she and he had the number. She told him she wascoming back. She needed him, she wanted him, only him. She would give up her lover for him. They had to be together.
    He was away on a vacation but he called her when he got her message and they arranged to meet.
    He took a room at their usual hotel and she met him