Message from a Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page B

you bring them to the Terrace Room on Fairmount Avenue?” she asked, licking her lips as she tapped her fingers against the tabletop.
    “On my way,” Darren said without hesitation.
    It was above and beyond the call of duty, and Renee appreciated her executive assistant all the more.
    As she slid the device back inside the leather case snapped to her crisp Ralph Lauren black linen pants, she looked up and felt pitied at the look in her friends’ eyes. The truth was the truth, and if she couldn’t be honest with her friends, then who?
    Renee had long since lost her mother to a massive heart attack. Her father now lived in Beverly Hills with his third wife, and their ties were invisible. She would never lay her marital problems on her children and, well, Jackson was a part of the problem. So who did that leave? Her friends.
    “He gave me that ‘we need to talk’ bullshit before he left this morning,” she admitted, filling the silence amongst them.
    Aria reached over, and squeezed her hand leaving the faint scent of her Armani Diamonds perfume. “Maybe it’s a talk to improve things. You always think the worst.”
    Renee raked her manicured fingers through her curls. “And you always see the glass as half full.”
    Jaime flung her weave over her left shoulder as she settled back in her chair to eye them. “We’ve been saying for years that you should encourage Jackson to go to counseling with you to deal with his issues.”
    Renee ignored the BlackBerry vibrating against her hip…again. For the first time in a long time, her focus was on her marriage. “I love him,” she said fiercely. “I just don’t understand the whole Ward Cleaver shit he’s caught up on because I’m not June in the least. Well…not anymore.”
    As soon as she said the words, her eyes shifted to Jaime. “No offense to you and Jessa, I just love working.”
    Jaime just shrugged and waved her hand glibly. The diamonds of her numerous bracelets flashed. “None taken.”
    Jaime was a diva and loved it.
    “I need to use the restroom, ladies,” Renee said, already rising to her full five-foot-ten height.
    She made a striking picture as she weaved her way through the tables to reach the privacy of the restroom. Her crisp white Calvin Klein tee gleamed against the deep cinnamon of her skin and emphasized the soft curve of her breasts. Her long strides were filled with confidence and were a testament to her weekly workout regimen in their state-of-the-art home gym. When exercise became the replacement for sex and happiness, a firm and fit body like hers had to develop.
    Renee actually sent the call from her assistant to her voice mail as she opened the mahogany wooden door of the ladies’ room. It swung closed behind her and she barely took in the warm plaid and floral French country décor as she leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest.
    Fuck it, she needed a moment. Facing the end of a marriage— her marriage—wasn’t easy…especially when both of her friends had the picture-perfect life she used to have.
    Renee wanted her marriage.
    She wanted her husband.
    But she also wanted her career, and she couldn’t have both. Period.
    She gripped the edge of the counter. Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed sharpened nails.
    “I love you, Jackson.”
    “We need to talk. We have to talk.”
    She tilted her head up and looked at herself in the mirror just as one lone tear raced down her cheek. She closed her eyes and released a breath heavy with her frustrations and fears.
    Jackson wouldn’t leave her. He’d better not.
    She swiped away her tears and straightened her back while she studied her reflection in the mirror. The soft and curly tendrils of her inch-long hair fit her oval-shaped face, wide eyes, and full, pouty mouth. She’d never felt sexier…especially with her signature smoky eye make-up, extended lashes, and glossy lips.
    Jackson didn’t speak to her for a week after she first cut her long