When she appears in the doorway, I’m absolutely speechless. This little girl has grown up to be a stunning, sexy, curvaceous, hot, sexpot. I can’t even pretend to ignore it.
But I’m not the first one to realize that, not by a long shot—she knows how to use herself. Her secret life is proof of that. So why doesn’t she seem to even aware of it?
My PI has done some more digging and found out who the person is that is running the site. The name is Kelsey. It’s surprising, in a way, that a woman would be in charge of something like that. It’s the first thing I asked him to confirm, that this Kelsey is a woman—a man would be more likely. But he said not only is she a woman, but she’s dead. Could she be the dead best friend?
Jordan gets in the limo and settles into the seat, crossing her legs at the knee and showing off some fine shoes. The whole ensemble probably cost me fifteen grand and honestly, it’s worth every penny.
“If only my friend Kelsey could see me like this,” she smiles, smoothing down the beaded fabric over her thighs. Kelsey.
Let it ride up, I think.
“You look great,” I say. “Beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she smiles shyly and turns away. “Are you sure it’s okay? I’ve never had something so extravagant, I almost feel guilty.”
“Don’t be silly,” I reply. “You look absolutely stunning. You’re just the kind of woman I need on my arm at this function. The other execs are going to be jealous as hell seeing you in that dress.”
“So is that all I am to you?” She grins as she says it, but I can see that naked vulnerability in her eyes. “A prop for your business partners?”
“That’s a lot of what the dress and shoes are,” I answer. “But you, you’re something different.”
She doesn’t ask what. There’s a silence in the car that feels oppressive. It’s filled with unanswered questions.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask, hoping to break it. I lean toward the bar. “Champagne?”
“Really?” she squeals. Sometimes I forget just how young she is. Not often, though.
Not often.
“Of course,” I say. “This is France. It practically flows out of the taps here.”
“But isn’t that an especially good one?” she asks.
I hold up the bottle of Dom Perignon. “Life’s too short to drink bad champagne,” I answer, and she smiles.
“I suppose so.”
“You mentioned Kelsey,” I say, trying to keep my voice even so as to not set her off. “Who’s that?”
“Kelsey?” That familiar shadow passes across her eyes. “She was my best friend. We were always supposed to travel together. But now it’s just me.”
“Was your best friend?” I don’t want to let on that I know anything about her, least of all that she’s passed.
“Yeah,” she says. “She passed away recently. Do you remember when you saw me at my parents’ place and I had just come home from a funeral? It was hers.”
I put my hand on Jordan’s, and she flinches a little before turning her palm up toward mine. I trace the lines on her palm. Like a submissive animal showing its belly. It brings out the wolf in me. I’m aware that I’m moving into dangerous territory. I don’t know who Jordan is. I think I’m the predator, but what if I’m actually the prey in this game? What does she know?
“Best friends, huh?” I ask. “That must be very hard for you. Does that have something to do with why you came to France? I remember you brought it up then”
“Well, yeah,” she says. “I wanted to take the trip we had meant to go on. It’s in honor of her.” She smiles sadly. “I would never have had the money if she hadn’t left me some.”
But she must be raking it in. Is she lying? What’s going on?
“And now you have it.”
“She left me some in her will, and I figured this is the best way to spend it. Kelsey would have gone on this trip if she could have.”
I’m a little ashamed. Who am I to ask her all these questions? But I have to know. “Don’t let me pry, Jordan… I don’t want to make you discuss anything you’re not comfortable with.” Oh yes I do. I need to know everything, and now.