LUST: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch Book 2)

by Valentine, Sienna

  I almost tell Mark to leave right then and there. I don't even know if I can do this anymore. How can I confront this woman and her child? How can I tell them about how he’s living the life of a bachelor, out of hotel rooms with possible ex-girlfriends all over the city? Maybe all over the world?

  She must know. How could she not? What lies could he tell her that would keep her in the dark about this? Chase and I have been almost inseparable for the last couple of weeks. Maybe he popped back in while I was home during those few days. I imagine him sitting here, eating dinner with his wife and child, all the while plotting in his head what he could say to me to get me to come back. What kind of a monster can do that?

  She must already know, or at least be suspicious. Sure, Chase travels a lot as a professional poker player, but when I was with him he never really snuck off to make secret phone calls, or disappeared for long enough for secret rendezvous’hback home.

  Of course, it was the time he spent with me that was the secret. Technically I'm the “other woman” in this case. The home wrecker. I feel sick to my stomach. Chase is a master of deception. His work relies on it, and I've seen it operate first hand with the house. It's totally conceivable that this woman could be completely in the dark about everything. I have to at least find out if she already knows. And if she doesn't, then I can decide whether or not to tell her. But first I have to know.

  I push open the door and am immediately greeted by the now familiar Vegas heat. It's like stepping into a blast furnace until you get used to it. I hurry up the driveway, trying not to stare at the bike so that the implications of that don't wash over me again. One problem at a time. Even though it only takes me a few seconds to get onto the porch, the shade from the roof is still a welcome relief.

  I can already feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back, and although I know it’s most likely from the heat, I’m aware of how on edge my nerves are now that I'm standing in front of the door, just a knock away from confronting a reality that I hadn't even imagined an hour ago.

  Turning back to make sure Mark hasn't decided to abandon me after all, I'm not surprised to see him already on the phone. It's not a big leap to guess who he’s talking to. His first allegiance is and always will be to Chase. Chase pays the bills, and Mark has been his driver for almost two years. I can't blame him for ratting me out the second I'm out of the car. At least he brought me here. Still, it adds a little urgency to things, since once he hangs up that phone, there’s no telling what Chase will do. Will he race over here? I'm 20 minutes away. Will he call me and try to convince me not to say anything? I reach into my purse and flip my phone to vibrate. I don't even want to hear it if he does.

  The other alternative is that he calls his wife. Makes up some story about a crazy lady that he beat in a poker game here to spread lies about him or something. I have no idea, but at this point anything is possible. If I'm going to act, I have to do it now. No more stalling.

  I reach up and knock on the hard wooden door before I have a chance to change my mind. I can hear a voice yelling from inside, and then the door swings inward. Before me is the face of a boy, at most about eight years old. But his look is wrong. I expected to see blond hair and blue eyes, but instead I see black hair and brown eyes. And skin the color of milk chocolate. I feel myself breathe out, tension I wasn't even aware of being released from my body. This kid doesn't look anything like Chase.

  "Uh, hi," I say. "Is your... is your mother home?"

  The boy looks at me for a moment and then nods, turning on his heel and racing away as he yells for his mother.

  It seems unlikely that someone who doesn’t live here would answer the door, so I'm not sure what to make of the child. Still, it relieves me that he doesn't look like Chase. Hopefully that means that it’s just a wife I have to deal with after all. Yet I still don't even know what to say.

  I don't have any time to think about it though, as a woman appears. She has a smile of greeting on her face, but a quizzical look in her eyes.

  "Hello," she says. "Can I help you?" Her voice has a familiar sounding accent that I can't quite place, but her English seems fine. Her skin is dark, like the boy's, and she seems older than I expected. If I had to guess, I would think she was in her late 30s. I'm suddenly not sure that I'm even in the right place. Did Mark take me to the wrong house in order to give Chase time to get here?

  "Uh, hi, sorry, I'm not even sure I'm at the right house. Umm, I'm looking for..." I don't even know her name. "Mrs. Anderson?"

  The woman's expression changes, but she nods quickly. "Yes, you're at the right house. That is me."

  Now it’s my expression that changes, I'm sure to one of confusion. This woman doesn't look anything like what I would have imagined Chase's wife would look like. Given the fact that he was dating me, and before that Denise, this woman doesn't seem at all like his type. And yet, maybe that was why he was cheating on her.

  She raises her eyebrow now, and I realize I'm just staring at her and not saying anything more. Her face seems familiar the more I look at it, but I'm not sure why. Suddenly the boy appears beside her, grabbing onto the woman's arm and hugging it. She puts her hand on his shoulder, pulling him close. The resemblance between the two is obvious. That’s likely why I thought she looked familiar. The boy looks just like her. And she’s Chase's wife.

  Which means he very likely could be Chase's son after all.

  43

  "Are you okay, you don't look so well?"

  I blink at the question, barely hearing it or registering the concern that is creeping across her face. Chase's wife has dark eyes that match her hair, and her voice is heavily accented. Her English seems pretty strong, but it’s obviously not her first language. In terms of her looks, her features are strong but not overly pretty. She’s not an ugly woman, but I'm surprised nonetheless. For some reason I would have expected her to be at least as beautiful as Denise.

  "Are you injured?" The woman's eyes are scanning my body now as she examines me, looking for the cause of my strange behavior.

  "No. No, I'm fine. I just... You're Mrs. Anderson? Wife of Chase Anderson? The professional poker player?"

  "Mirana. Yes. Hello. Do you know my husband? Is he okay?"

  Her husband. Not her ex-husband. The look on her face shows genuine concern as well. "Yes. He's fine. I just... I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes. It’ll be quick." I avoid the question about whether I know him for now. I don't know how to explain my relationship with Chase, and although one of the main reasons I came here was to make sure his wife knew what was going on, now that I'm faced with it I don't know what to say.

  Mirana looks confused now, but she nods and stands back, gesturing for me to come inside. She says something to the boy in Spanish and he nods, quickly running off. I hear a door close in his direction as she leads me into her living room and offers me a seat on a high backed, cushioned chair. "Would you like something to drink, Miss?"

  "My name is Lila. Lila Hunter," I quickly say, embarrassed that I hadn't even introduced myself. I'm about to say no to the drink, but then I realize how dry my mouth is. If anything, I could use the excuse to put this whole thing off just a little bit longer. "Sure, that would be lovely, thank you.”

  Mirana smiles tightly, and I wonder if she had been hoping I would say no so that I would leave quicker. "I was just about to make some tea, is that okay?"

  I nod and she disappears into the next room which I can see is the kitchen.

  It's strange to be sitting in this room, with Chase's wife in the other room after I've been flying around the world and fucking him for the last couple of weeks. Despite the fact that I had no idea he was married, I feel incredibly guilty. More so because there’s a child involved.

  It takes Mirana a few minutes to return with the tea and by the time she gets back I still haven't figured out what to say. She places the cup next to me and then sits down. The look of confusion that was on her face earlier has shifted to one of suspici
on now as she watches me, waiting to see what it is I want. I should have had more of a plan about what I was going to say, but part of me had been hoping that I would get here and it would be immediately clear that the whole thing was just a misunderstanding and I wouldn’t have to say anything at all. As it is, things seem even worse than I had expected.

  "How can I help you Miss Hunter?" she finally asks when I continue to sit silently fidgeting.

  "Um, right. Well I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. About your husband."

  Chase's wife just continues to stare at me with a questioning look on her face, so I push ahead before I talk myself out of this whole thing, or she throws me out.

  "How long have you... have you and Chase... been married?"

  A quick look of alarm passes across Mirana's face before she quells it and takes a deep breath. I feel a twinge of guilt. Does she suspect what is coming? Has this happened before?

  "About two years," she answers.

  If this has happened before, if he’s cheated and I'm not the first girlfriend to show up at his wife's house, what does that mean? Why does she stay with him?

  "Do you love him?" I ask before I can stop myself.

  "Of course," she snaps back. If I were her, this is the point where I would be throwing me out or demanding answers, but for some reason she just sits there. She doesn't look happy, but she isn't telling me to leave, either.

  "He must travel a lot. It must be hard, with him gone so much."

  Mirana nods cautiously. "We make do with the time we have. But yes, his job takes him around the world. But because of Diego I stay home. Otherwise I would go with him."

  Diego. Suddenly something strikes me.

  "How long have you known Chase?"

  "We met 4 years ago through mutual friends."

  So he was in his early 20s when he met her. A feeling of relief passes over me. At least the child isn't his. I feel bad enough, but if the kid was his it would make it all the worse.

  I look at Mirana and she seems agitated, probably because of the questions about her relationship coming from a complete stranger. I'm again struck by the fact that she hasn't told me to leave or asked more about me, but I wonder if it’s some sort of cultural thing. Like she doesn't want to be rude. The least I can do is explain myself now. It's obvious that Denise wasn't making things up in this case. Chase is married, and although he isn't the biological father of her kid, he must be at least the step-father.

  They're a family, and that makes me a home-wrecker.

  "I guess you're wondering why I'm here," I begin.

  "I know why you're here," Mirana says quickly. I can hear anger in her voice, but she’s keeping it in check. "You aren't the first person to show up asking about my relationship with my husband. I keep hoping they will stop, but they never do."

  I swallow hard and let out a slow breath. How could I have been so wrong about Chase. He's a serial cheater, and for whatever reason his wife puts up with it. Each time she hopes it'll be the last, but it never is. I'm not the first to warn her, and by this point I'm probably doing more harm than good. She clearly has her reasons for not leaving, and I'm simply a reminder of his constant string of betrayals.

  "I'm sorry," I say softly.

  Mirana shrugs. "It's not your fault. I understand why you're here. Lots of people cheat."

  I don't even know how to respond to that. I'm not sure if she’s referring to me or Chase. I don't think of myself as the cheater here. I didn't know he was married. But from her perspective I'm sure I'm just as much to blame even if she does say it’s not my fault. How can she help but not blame me on some level. But I don't think there’s any use in explaining myself and making her feel worse with the details.

  "I should go," I say. My tea still sits next to me untouched as I stand.

  "Yes," Mirana says. "Just please remember that I love my husband, and my marriage is very important to me."

  The words are like a punch in the gut, but all I can do is nod. I should never have come.

  44

  Mirana leads me to the door just as Diego comes out of his room. He runs to his mother and grabs her by the waist as he twirls behind her and then peeks out at me. I smile at him. He looks so much like his mother, but just as familiar as she did. It suddenly strikes me and I turn back to her.

  "You're Cuban, aren't you?"

  She raises her eyebrow, confused. "Yes. Of course."

  The little side trip that Chase took me on while we were in Cuba. The family we had lunch with. I shake my head with the realization. How could Chase be so cold hearted?

  "Your parents... Elena and Victor?"

  "Abuela and Abuelo?" Diego says, his face lighting up as I say their names.

  "Yes. What about them?"

  It all makes sense now. He used that trip to look in on his in-laws. I can only imagine the things he was saying to them in Spanish as we ate lunch together. How did he explain my presence? I can't remember how physical we were in their presence. I don't think we kissed or anything. Did he tell them I was his assistant? It's hard to believe how brazen he was, bringing me with him to meet them. Maybe if I had understood Spanish I could have busted him right then and there. It's humiliating to imagine what he must have been saying, the lies about me he was telling as I sat right next to him. And then he took me back to the room and continued to fuck me like he wasn't even married, right after visiting his in-laws. How much of an asshole is he? How was I so completely wrong about him? I've never felt like such a fool in my life.

  "Nothing. I... nothing." Mirana is looking at me curiously, but I shake my head. I visited your parents on a trip to Cuba with your husband. After your mom made us lunch, we went back to the hotel and fucked like rabbits.

  Mirana just stares at me, her face a mixture of emotions that I can't decipher. Anger? There is definitely some of that, and justifiably so. But there’s more as well. Fear? What is she afraid of? Maybe that I'll steal him away. I could reassure her that I'm going to stay as far away from Chase as possible now that I know he’s married, but she probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. And I have no idea how much Diego knows. I don't want to drag him into the world of his step-father's lies. She finally just nods and reaches for the door, pulling it open.

  "Good day, then."

  "Thank you... for... your time." I'm still surprised at how accommodating she’s been to someone she knows is sleeping with her husband. How often has this happened? Has she just basically given up on trying to change him? Do they have some sort of open marriage? I feel terrible for coming. I feel like all I've done is drive a knife that was already in her gut a little bit deeper. Twisted it a little bit more.

  I turn away with nothing left to say. Diego begins speaking in Spanish and Mirana bends down to talk to him. She’s already dismissed me, her earlier hospitality seems to have evaporated as she realized who I was and why I was there. I step into the sunlight and look around. Chase's car is still out front, Mark has turned it around and parked it a couple of doors down. Since he hasn't left, I hope that means he’s still willing to take me to the airport.

  As I take a step out of the house, a cab pulls around the corner and I watch as it drives right in front of the house and stops. A moment later the door opens and Chase gets out. My heart begins to pound in my chest as anger and shame fill me in equal amounts. I want to lash out and scream at him, but not in front of his wife and her son.

  I take another step and exit the house. Behind me I hear another burst of Spanish from Diego, but within I clearly hear the word "Chase".

  Mirana says something quickly back to him, and he takes off again, back in the direction he disappeared to before.

  Chase is wearing a frown as he looks at me, and I hear his wife step out right behind me as well. I'm sure Chase wasn't expecting to see his wife and girlfriend standing side by side when he got up this morning. Especially since this morning he and I woke up on the other side of the world.

  "Chase!" Mirana pushes past me an
d runs towards her husband. Chase looks at her and then back at me. There’s confusion on his face. He's probably wondering how much I've told her and what he was in for. The truth is I have no idea what she plans to do or say to him. I barely told her anything. She seemed to know it all already and be completely unfazed.

  As soon as Mirana reaches him she throws her arms around him, pulling him into a hug and then presses her lips against his in a passionate kiss that makes me feel dizzy just to watch.

  What makes it worse is that the entire time his wife is kissing him, with her arms wrapped around his body, Chase's eyes are on me.

  45

  Finally tearing his eyes away from me, Chase pushes his wife away and breaks the kiss as he looks at her strangely. "Mirana, what are you doing?"

  It's a strange question to ask your wife after she greets you with a kiss, but at this point I can't pretend to know or understand Chase Anderson at all. I feel like I should run. Take off to the limo, hop in and tell Mark to take me directly to the airport. But I can't help but want to see Chase squirm now. I want to see how he tries to weasel his way out of this to both his wife and girlfriend at the same time.

  Mirana is talking quietly now, but she’s grabbed his hand and is clutching it against her chest as if she doesn't want him to be apart from her ever again. His eyes grow wide as she speaks and then makes a strange sound. It's not until he looks up that I see a smile on his face. That noise had been a laugh. Of all the reactions I had expected from him, laughter was pretty much the last one. It makes me want to slap him, and I take a few steps toward the two of them with that very intention.

  "The government? Definitely not," he says to her. "She’s not even American. She’s from Canada."