The Accidental Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page A

suit jacket, he removed the envelope of pictures.
Gabriella had broken his heart. But she had taught him the most
valuable lesson.
    "Don't you understand? Your mother is doing
this. Making you act like this. If you would just trust me."
    "Trust you? My mother has nothing to do with
me trusting you. Are you denying the fact that you are Heathcliff
Girard's daughter? That you you're his spy!"
    "No. I am his daughter. And if your mother
had done her homework she would know he abandoned my mum and me
before I was born. He has never acknowledged me. I'm not a spy. For
you to say these things mean you don't know me at all. What is my
crime? Tell me? Loving you when you are so unused to being loved?
You have to stop this because I can't take anymore! I can't take
you questioning me at every turn. Either you trust me or you
don't!"
    Christophe slumped back, sifting through the
photos of Gabriella dining with a man, leaving a restaurant with
him, embracing him at the door to her flat, and inviting him inside
by the pull of his tie.
    One could argue that he pushed her to it.
His refusal to commit and his mother's constant interference made
him cold and distrustful. Had he forced her to seek comfort with
another man? He reached for his drink and let his eyes close.
    His mother was right. Montague men didn't
need love to survive, and if they forgot that fact, love would be
their curse. Look at what became of his father.

Chapter Three
    Zuri awoke, finding herself under a heavy
duvet; beads of sweat dotted her brow and dripped from her lashes
into her blurred vision. She kicked off the covers. Her feet
peddled over the carpet as she raced in blind urgency to the
bathroom. Her sleep (alcohol induced delirium) made it easy to
misjudge her surroundings. She ran directly into the wall instead
of waking instantly.
    Dazed, she gagged and stumbled in the
darkness to find the door to the bathroom. She rushed through the
door and vomited over the toilet seat and her self, missing the
bowl entirely. Through the retching and her stomach convulsions,
her eyes teared and she sank to the floor, depleted. The coolness
of the bathroom tile against her feverish cheek made it so much
better. She lay there waiting for the room to stop spinning.
    Several minutes passed and she blinked her
eyes open. Stinking from spew and the alcohol seeping from her
pores, she lifted in time to vomit once more. The stench made her
eyes cross. She wiped her hand over her lips and flushed.
    Summoning her strength, she cleaned the
commode and floor to the best of her ability. Once done, she fell
back against the tub and faced the tiled wall under the sink. "I'm
so stupid. So stupid," she chanted.
    Zuri was grateful she had made it to her
sister's room but confused as to how and when she did so. Rising
from the floor, she unhooked, unbuttoned and unzipped her dress.
The drying slime on the front was hard to miss. It was her favorite
dress and ruined. She stepped out of it. Then she eased off her
panties and her bra. "I'm so dumb!" she groaned.
    Zuri turned on the shower and stepped under
the cool jets. The ice-cold water tingled her skin. She shivered
but welcomed the frosty cleansing. Her head cleared, though her
skull felt as if it had been used for batting practices by the
Chicago Mets.
    Zuri inhaled the lavender hotel soap as she
lathered her skin. She tried to recall the events of the night in
sequential order. Of course, due to her foggy memory, the evening
in the bar began and ended with the sexy guy named Christophe. She
blushed at the way he flirted, then how she made an ass out of
herself with mixing wine with scotch. But it was the most daring
thing she had ever done. She would wake and tell Joi and they would
have a laugh. No more alcohol for her.
    She crept out of the shower and dried
herself. Her head was clear but her mouth was nasty. She put on the
hotel’s monogrammed robe hanging on the back of the door and sighed
at the terrycloth’s comforting warmth.
    A