Page 71 of Beautiful Liar

More heat pours up my neck. A sound emerges from hidden speakers. I’m not sure if it’s a groan or a grunt but it’s deep and affected.

“I have to go.”

Disappointment spears through me and my hands drop back to my sides. “Okay.”

“The staff will be there at ten. They have my instructions. Work with them, please.”

The faint buzz cuts off and I know he’s gone. I sag against the sink, a little deflated, then alternately shocked and annoyed at myself. I tell myself it’s because besides Fionnella, Q is the person I’ve spoken to the most in the last three weeks. But even more than that is the truth that I’m looking forward to what will happen tonight.

I’m looking forward to meeting the man who’s paying me a million dollars to be his whore on camera.

***

Inevitably, the staff includes a fitness trainer and chef. The latter I don’t mind at all. The former has me sweating and whining within minutes of the hundred crunches I’m required to do beside the pool. Turns out he’s a yoga instructor too, so I’m stretched through numerous positions before he finally sets me free. I limp back inside and stop in awe once again. This place is beyond words.

I discovered the library next to the great room after breakfast. The room, complete with vaulted ceilings and a roaring fireplace reeks with history. The great room is equally breathtaking, with silk wallpaper and two grand chandeliers that illuminate three groups of seating areas, each with a relaxation theme that invites guests to linger. The full tour on this side of the property yielded a fully self-contained guest house, a spa and cabana attached to the pool, a theater room and wine cellar.

But a set of double doors behind the grand staircase was locked. And if the NO ENTRY sign above it wasn’t clear enough, a seriously intimidating electronic panel next to the door convinced me to stay away from what was evidently Q’s domain.

At four, the third member of the staff, Stephanie, knocks on my bedroom door. I assume she’s a cross between a housekeeper and my personal stylist, because she enters wheeling a clothing rack, a portable massage table and more grooming products.

I’m freshly showered and once she sets up, I lie on the table. The full body scrub is heavenly and the massage that follows equally divine. But the descent of the sun over the water and the unrelenting thumping of my heart signal the approach of something that has my insides in knots.

Finally, unable to stand the tension, I ask the question bursting on my tongue. “Is he here?”

“Yes. The boss arrived an hour ago. He’s with his team.”

I swallow. “Is he…is there any instruction for me?”

Stephanie indicates I turn over, and when I do, she rubs divine smelling gel up my calf and over my thigh. Her fingers dig in with expert massage and I suppress a groan.

“He wants you in the wing at six.”

Two short hours from now. Hours that pass quickly as I’m primped and prepped. Once Stephanie is done covering the birthmark on my thigh with a little concealer, she informs me that the boss has chosen the russet colored lingerie, together with nude hose and garter set for tonight. I put it on without fear of messing my hair because it’s been styled in simple wavy curls that hang down my back.

Russet and gold stilettos snugly cocoon my freshly pampered feet, and on my wrist and throat, touches of expensive perfume scent the air with each heartbeat. My ensemble is completed when Stephanie steps forward with a stunning necklace and matching earrings.

“Are those real diamonds?” I stare at the single row of gems that circle the necklace.

“Of course.”

Shocked laughter bursts from my throat. Of course.

The laughter dies when she steps back and examines me from head to toe. “You’re ready.” She hands me a floor length silk robe.

“As I’ll ever be.” I belt the robe and follow her to the door.

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