One Night Wife (Confidence Game)

by Ainslie Paton

  “Everlasting is as much about the wives as the husbands. What society wife doesn’t want the chance at beating age through gene therapy, being beautiful forever without needing a plastics guy. If this were any other scam, at any other time, I could tough it out.”

  “By tough it out, he means he’s getting hit on,” said Rory.

  “It’s a huge distraction and a risk if some husband takes offense or some wife cries foul. No easier way to lose my place of influence in a social circle I’ve been adopted into than mess with their sexual politics.”

  “I’m with Cal,” Rory said, “A One Night Wife is a safety feature. Same as a Mysterious Stranger is a shortcut and a Prince for Sale is a door opener. These tactics work for a reason, and Cal is right to want to be in the best position possible to pull off Everlasting. If Fin isn’t in on the con, then she’s easy to cut loose and there’s no risk to us.”

  Halsey leaned forward. “You’ve done a background check on her? No cops or lawyers or thug relatives. No roided out ex-husbands or boyfriends?”

  “Nothing remarkable. Her ex is Win Oxley-Prescott. Trust fund douche. He couldn’t muscle the attention span to be a threat. Her business partner is Lenore Bradshaw. Jeffrey Bradshaw’s daughter.” That got a laugh out of everyone. Bradshaw was such an amateur.

  Time to vote. “All in favor of bringing in an outsider on a limited brief for the Everlasting scam, that outsider being Finley Cartwright, raise your hand.”

  His own went up, followed by Rory’s and Zeke’s, Sherin’s and Tresna’s. “We’re not making a habit of this. Fin works the Everlasting scam and then becomes a stranger to us,” he said. That would be the best outcome for her, no matter how much he’d like it to be different.

  Halsey’s hand stayed up. “This is an extraordinary event, not a new precedent.”

  Cal voiced his agreement to that and quit the room to give them time to complain about him, heading back to his office with his ears ringing. The door was still closed, which was a good sign.

  He opened it to find Fin sitting on his office chair. The seat was reclined. She had her hands folded behind her head and her feet, ankles crossed, in those dotty shoes up on his desk. “You’ve messed with everything haven’t you?” Nothing that could cause him any harm, and she couldn’t get into the pc unless she was an ace hacker and he’d somehow failed to discover that fact.

  “Pretty much. I was bored. Good luck finding your stapler.”

  “Just tell me where you hid the leftover cheese.”

  She laughed too honestly to be deceiving him and snapped her fingers. “A missed opportunity. I’m going to learn so much from you, Cal Sherwood.”

  He stalked around his desk to find she’d drawn on paper and taped it to his screen. “Is that…?” He peered closer. Arms, legs, a man, a woman. A beast with two backs.

  “Yes, I was watching porn while you were away.”

  “Porn.”

  “Sure, since it’s the only action I’m going to get around you. Or do you have a rule against me enjoying myself while we work together?”

  He was going to need a whole set of new rules to deal with Finley Cartwright, to pull off Everlasting, restore his family’s trust, make amends with Rory, and rebuild his own fortune. But no one said it couldn’t be fun.

  Fin wanted him to have fun.

  He picked up the red marker she’d used and leaned across her, made an amendment to her line drawing; some shading, a few extra key lines, a little more explicitness in the genital area, making Fin drop her legs to the floor and gasp when he said, “Now you’re watching porn.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A line drawing of two people screwing shouldn’t have made Fin’s face change color, but it was the way Cal took her silly stick figure sketch and made it shockingly rude that set her face alight. How was she supposed to work with him and not want him if he was going to provoke her like that?

  “I’m never telling you where I hid the cheese.”

  He grinned. So damn pleased with himself. “You already told me.”

  “You’ll only know when it starts to go off.”

  “Ah, Finley. One of your lessons is going to be about tells. You have various tells. Your laughter is one. I can tell when your laughter is real, when it’s concealing another emotion, or whether you’re using it as a weapon.”

  She squinted at him. “You can tell all that from a laugh?”

  “You’ll be able to as well when we’re finished with you.”

  That sounded vaguely threatening in an exciting way. “What am I telling you now?”

  He took a second to study her, so she made various faces at him, tongue lolling, eyes crossed, forehead scrunched, bottom lip over her top one. That last one came with a monster sound effect.

  “That you should be handled with care,” he deadpanned.

  For a man determined not to have a good time, she was mighty suspicious Cal was enjoying himself.

  He sat on the edge of the desk facing her. “We need to talk rules. When we’re in public, you’re my girlfriend. You’re the sweet, considerate kind who won’t drink too much, insult anyone, embarrass me, leave me and go off with my friends, or fuck someone I’m trying to do business with. You’ll be well briefed on who your best targets are and who mine are. The idea is that we’re that lovely, newly-in-love couple who are nice to have around and don’t cause any trouble.”

  She put on a pensive face. “It’s a tough role, but I think I can pull it off. How did we meet? Did you try to steal my cab? Did you spill a drink on me? What’s our backstory?”

  “You used me to avoid your ex in an Irish pub.”

  “We’re going with the truth?”

  “Disappointed?”

  Not yet, but it was a possibility. “I was expecting something more cloak and dagger.”

  “The truth works perfectly well almost all of the time. Lies are easy to uncover and a bother to remember. Besides, we had a meet-cute. Isn’t that what Hollywood calls it? You jumped me, ravished me. It makes an amusing anecdote.”

  “Jumped you. I seem to remember you rolled with it. You’re twice my size. I couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do. You let me drag you down a dark alley.”

  “You let me take you to a hotel.”

  “Where—”

  “The fantasy starts. The only thing that’s not real is that people should think we are in a physical relationship.”

  God jogging, for once, couldn’t the fantasy be worse than the reality. “What if I told you I was a method actor.”

  “I’d say your method is to do what your director”—he pointed at himself—“tells you to do.”

  “I have some rules, too.” He wasn’t getting this all his own way and she’d had time to think this through.

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Let’s hear them.”

  “I don’t want to worry Lenny. I don’t want her wondering what the heck is going on with us. She’s already bugging out about the money. As far as she’s concerned, we’re dating with all that entails.” Both his brows jumped. “Friends with benefits. We’re fucking.”

  “Got it. How will Lenny take our inevitable break up?”

  “She’ll hold my hair when I get sick from drinking too much. And anyway, that’s none of your concern.”

  “I agree to that. What else?”

  “You can’t do anything to embarrass me. No pawing at me.”

  “Have I ever pawed at you?”

  “Unfortunately, only that once. Right before you dumped me with a hotel room. No letting anyone else paw at me. No making awful jokes at my expense, belittling me or putting me down, abusing or abandoning me anywhere I can’t get home. No putting me in any danger. No—Oh.”

  He took her shoulders in his hands. “Finley. I won’t let you get hurt. I won’t humiliate you or compromise your honor or treat you in any way that would make you feel uncertain, scared, or pissed off. If you’re truly worried I’m going to put you at risk, we shouldn’t
do this.”

  Looking directly into his violently blue eyes was like being hypnotized. Resist. “That’s what all the axe-murderer, organ-harvesting, white-slave-trader, fake boyfriends say.”

  He shifted away. “I’ll admit to fake boyfriend, but otherwise, violence is not my modus operandi. I do a great fake boyfriend. I’m simply not built for anything more and not with a colleague.”

  She didn’t think he’d hurt her, and she’d given him plenty of opportunity to be an asshole. She could easily cause him trouble, so he was taking a risk on her as well.

  “Absolutely no drugs, Cal. Don’t ask me to inhale, snort, swallow, or inject anything that’s going to fuck me up.”

  “I won’t ask you to do lines off someone’s antique table. For the record, I don’t do that, either.”

  “Don’t call me some silly pet name.”

  “You got it, snookums.”

  She kicked him, and he winced.

  “Don’t make me eat sushi.”

  “No raw fish, check. You done?”

  “Look me in the eye and tell me this is a smart thing for me to do.”

  He reached for her hands and pulled her out of the chair. Everything in his body that had broadcast amusement while they’d traded quips dropped away.

  “You’ll get the money you need to make D4D a success, and you’ll be set up with a donor list to keep doing that when we’re over. And that’s what you want. But if you’ve changed your mind, or you don’t trust me to guide you towards that, then thank you for the picnic.” He changed his grip on one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “It was lovely to meet you. Good luck and have a nice life.”

  She pulled her hand away. That was the most aggressive thing he’d done to her. A kiss to the hand that was a kick up the butt. A reminder he was a power jerk. Any final doubt she had that he was simply hedging his bets about not wanting more of a relationship with her were cancelled like a promising first season on Netflix.

  This was business for him. He might send a car, do that thing with a hand hovering at the small of her back she loved so much; he might open doors for her, pull out chairs, compliment her appearance, listen to her respectfully and teach her his persuasive arts, but he wasn’t joking about all of that being business. No more illusions. He would point her to the exit sign once he was finished with her.

  It was the perfect reminder of who they were to each other, and in many ways, it was more honest than her relationship with Win had been. She knew exactly where she stood with Cal. Partners, potentially friends with their own spark, and a mutual business interest. It was simple. It was a good plan at the right time. She was not allowed to feel any grizzle of disappointment.

  “You’re not shaking me off that easily. What’s next?”

  He gave her a smile she wanted to interpret as, good decision.

  “Next, you get briefed.”

  Sounded like a chore until he showed her to a meeting room and said, “This is Rory. She’s going to brief you in,” and then it sounded like a traffic accident, because Rory with her flawless symmetrical face, forest-green eyes, and wig-perfect hair was the reason the standard for female beauty was impossibly high.

  And then Rory opened her mouth. “Nice to meet you, Finley. I’ll be helping you prepare for the events you’ll attend. I’ll walk you through wardrobe, makeup, hair, and jewelry, and train you in lie detection. I’ll deep background on the targets, including which ones are free with their hands and how best to avoid that, and fill you in on the dynamic of the wives. I’ve made a list of approved designers for you to shop with.” She pushed a sheet of paper over the table. “This is for your company credit card. What would you like to do first?”

  First, Fin wanted to stab Rory to death because of course the woman was professional, competent, organized, overwhelming. Second, she needed a moment to collect herself. Rory was Cal’s ex, the woman he didn’t love enough. Rory was the reason the spark she and Cal had between them was never going to become a fire. If he couldn’t love Rory, he’d never want her, because even with award-winning acting, Fin would never be as beautiful, as poised, as awesome as Rory.

  An hour whipped past while Rory talked through how Sherwood established their investment targets. They had a manual with photographs for identification, with information about family background, education, likes, dislikes, political affiliations. They knew what movies these people watched, what books they read, where they shopped, ate, and hung out. But what made it truly incredible was the dirt they’d collected. Affairs, illegitimate children, bizarre habits, pet peeves, kinks, and worse, hateful behavior, discrimination, bullying, abuse, crime, and cover up.

  It was everything Cal had been talking about but in graphic detail. And she’d need to attend parties with these people. This was the fine print she should’ve asked to see first.

  “Give us a minute, Rory,” Cal said.

  Rory left, closing the door behind her, and Fin was grateful for the chance to be alone with Cal. “I never imagined this was how you did it.”

  “This is how high-end sales works. It’s also how influence, politics, and business come together. We dig a little deeper than most.”

  “But how does knowing Bob Kepsy has a second family in Beijing, or Victor Rennie is a coke addict help?”

  “It’s leverage. It tells us Bob has a roving eye and Victor can be erratic at best.”

  There was a tornado of information in her head. This was social media stalking, data scraping, and doxxing set to stun, and she didn’t know how to process it.

  Cal pushed on the arm of her chair, and she lifted her feet to let him swivel it to face him. “You’re rattled,” he said.

  “I know everyone has secrets, but you know everyone’s secrets.”

  “I won’t leave you alone with anyone who might try to take advantage of you. You’re there to take advantage of them.”

  “But now that I know all this, I can’t image how I’ll do that.”

  “Same way I do. You’ll focus on why your target doesn’t deserve their good fortune at the expense of others and what good work you can do redistributing their money to people in need. You’ll tell Bob how your charity supports women in China. You’ll talk to Victor when he’s so high he’ll agree to anything.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  He tapped the open manual. “With the right tools, it is.”

  Maybe. It was like she was at a script table read for a spy movie that featured top-secret dossiers and a covert mission plan. She closed the cover of the manual and pushed it away. It made her queasy. “Do you have a dossier like this on me?”

  “You told me what I needed to know about you. I heard your pitch. I knew how desperate you were to raise money. You told me about your dad’s tire chain. Your never-put-a-foot-wrong sister. I looked your loser ex up, and I did a scan on what was publicly available on you. I didn’t know you don’t eat sushi, and I’d never have guessed you liked cartoon porn. The background information is good, but it’s not infallible, and it’s not the only thing that determines how a person will act.”

  “It doesn’t feel like that. I told you I was a quitter. You could use that against me.”

  “What’s my motivation to do that? We’re codependents in this. I need you as much as you need me. And I don’t believe everything I hear. Do you need a break?”

  No, she needed to roll with this, because putting aside the slightly creepy nature, it was fascinating. It was a way to stop being a flake and make a difference. She waved a hand regally, “Bring on lie detection.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Asking if Fin was nervous gave Cal permission to give her a once-over.

  She sat beside him in the back of the town car and crossed her leg with an exaggerated kick that gave him a glimpse of smooth thigh under her fitted, ice-blue dress. She’d made good use of his credit. No borrowed finery this time.

  They’d look good together. He liked her in her fun fifties dress u
p better, but with designer elegance, she’d fit in with the old money, Fifth Avenue crowd.

  All bug eyes, she gave him an exaggerated stare. “What’s the point in answering your question? You already know how I feel from my microwhatsits.”

  She’d learned about micro-expressions and how they gave away what people were trying to mask in lie detection training. She fiddled with her hair. She was desperately nervous and working hard not to show it.

  “I was making conversation,” he said.

  She blew air between her lips. “No, you weren’t.”

  “And you know that how?”

  “Rory said to use my gut.”

  Thank you, Aurora. He stretched an arm over the back of the seat in no danger of touching Fin, which made the gesture redundant, but now he was stuck. This would be easier if he was less attracted to her. He’d never felt less smooth. “You read your briefing pack?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  He smiled at her sass. “It’s nothing difficult tonight. We have four key targets and we work together, but it will be different to the retrospective. Follow my lead. Just be yourself.”

  “I’d be home in sweats, with Chinese takeout and beer.”

  He could almost get a finger to her cloud of hair, twist a curl. “Be yourself on a good day.”

  She dropped her head to the back of the seat. “I’m nervous. I won’t fit in with these people.”

  “I’d be home in sweats with Chinese takeout and beer, too.”

  She rolled her head and looked at him. “Really?”

  He could almost touch her face, graze a knuckle against the soft skin of her cheek. “What’s so hard to believe about that?” He dropped his arm back to his side.

  She laughed. “You should’ve been an actor or a politician. You do misdirection well. You don’t strike me as a beer and takeout kind of guy.”

  If it wasn’t for the laugh, he’d have worried about her saying that. “You met me in an Irish pub.”

  “You were having a bad day.”

  He couldn’t afford to be off his game tonight. He had four stratospherically rich-ass whales to tickle. They’d take the whole Everlasting scam and lift it from lucrative to a moon-shot. If he could rope two of the four, he’d ensure all Sherwood’s environmental activism was well funded for a good while. Three of the four and he could relax about outgoings, albatrosses, and plastic in the ocean, maybe take a vacation for the first time in years. And four. If he could rope the four of them with Fin’s help, he could secure his cut-and-run money and rebuild his personal fortune.