Page 34 of Forbidden Mistress

“I need the paperwork for Dad’s company, remember?” I ask, trying so unbelievably hard not to sound as annoyed as I feel.

She shakes her head. “Oh, Liam has all that. He went through everything right after your dad died.”

Fucking-A. I bet he did. The bastard.

I nod and shove all my anger deep, deep down. If I show any frustration whatsoever, she’ll accuse me of being too uptight, too excitable. She’ll ask me if I’ve talked to my doctor about going on medication. Or spoken to the therapist about grief counseling in the wake of my dad’s death. It’ll be a whole thing, and it will have gotten me nowhere in terms of what I actually need—the fucking paperwork. I need to get my hands on it before my next business appointment with Lucien.

I clear my throat. “Can you ask Liam for me? I just need a copy. He can keep the originals.”

“I already mentioned it. I asked him to reach out to you. Didn’t he do that?”

I take a deep breath and slowly let it go. “He texted me, yes.”

She pulls a face. “So why don’t you call him back? He says it’s really hard to get hold of you. It’d be nice for me if you two could just put all of this anger aside. I know I probably sound like a broken record, but I hate being in the middle of whatever this is.”

I press my lips together and just ignore her response. She doesn’t get it, and she’ll never get it, so it’s not worth discussing. “Do you know who dad’s attorney was? His last name starts with an M, I think. And his office is in Orange County.” Though where in Orange County, I have no idea.

She just shakes her head. “I was in such a daze when your dad died that I really leaned heavily on your brother for all that. I can’t remember his name either. I’m sorry.”

My eyes narrow suspiciously. It’s very likely she does remember, but she wants to force me to connect with Liam about this. I love Lori to bits, but she’s practically obsessed with the idea of us being one big happy family again, especially since my dad’s been gone.

I can’t blame her. We were happy once. All those years ago. I push out a breath and flash her a tight smile. In her defense, in his later years, Dad became an all-out workaholic and a bit of a control freak, and seldom involved her in his business, much like he did for me. He was terribly old-fashioned like that, and it frustrated me to no end. Though, to be honest, I was never as interested in the running of the business as Liam was. The hard sciences, specifically chemistry, were always my greatest love.

“Okay. No worries. So, can I take a look in Dad’s office, just in case?” I ask.

Maybe there’s a stray sticky note with information I can use, or something. It’s worth a shot.

She shrugs. “Sure, hon. I’ve got lunch with a couple of my book club ladies, so just lock the door when you leave.” She gives me another peck on the cheek, then heads out.

As it turns out, there’s nothing in Dad’s office, as I suspected. Liam is an asshole, but he’s not dumb. He took everything of importance. Fuuuck. I’m going to have to find another way.

That night, I’m wearing my usual black dress, the gleaming stag necklace and black lace panties with a matching bra. They’re my best pair of underwear, and with a little giddiness in the pit of my stomach, I have a feeling Hart will be seeing them tonight. With my brand-new gold fawn mask in place, I walk into Obscura.

“Fawn,” Ms. Lawrence says. I blink at the new form of address and realize that Hart must have informed her of my new persona. “How good to see you tonight. Your mask is beautiful.”

I smile at her. “Thank you.”

Fawn. I appreciate the theme Hart and I have going. The stag and his fawn. Couple goals, right?

As it’s Friday, the club is pretty busy tonight, but I don’t even stop to grab a drink. I just head straight up the main staircase to the members-only area. My heart is beating like crazy in anticipation of seeing Hart again. Things didn’t end well last night, but the flowers have more than made up for the few minutes of awkwardness.

When I reach the hallway leading to Hart’s room, I see a bunch of people gathered in front of the door to our regular room. Someone is screaming, a woman. Her high-pitched shriek cuts above the din of the club music below. I turn to the nearest person, who happens to be a man dressed like a dog, complete with mask, collar and dangling tags. He’s being led on a leash.

I lift my chin to indicate the ruckus. “What’s happening?”

He shrugs. “One of the subs is going apeshit.”

Oh, no. It couldn’t be Willow, right? I mean, that’s crazy. Last night, when Hart turned his attention to me, she was completely silent on the bed. If she were going to go crazy, wouldn’t that have been the moment?

I press my lips together and nod. “Thanks.”

I guess I could wait until the crowd thins out, but I’m eager to see Hart and I don’t want to be late for him, honestly. Whatever is happening probably has nothing to do with me. So I forge a path down the hallway, pushing my way through the crowd. When I get to Hart’s door, my heart drops. It’s Willow, and she’s fighting three security guys, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“This is my Dom’s room! You can’t keep me out,” she practically spits at the guy standing guard in front of her. His face is completely impassive. “Call him now. Tell him I’m here.”

I push my way to the front of the group, and she catches sight of me. I can see her face change behind her bunny mask as she takes in my gilt fawn mask—the female version of Hart’s stag mask. Every ounce of fight in her is immediately focused on me.

Well, shit.

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