Page 8 of Indiscreet

“I didn’t have to pay either, but I was told they have a lot of rich clientele that want to make sure the participants meet their requirements.”

What she said made sense, but it still didn’t sit right with me.

“I’m glad it’s fast so you can’t change your mind,” she said in a light tone and laughed. “The mixer I went to was in downtown Seattle. I suppose they hold them at different places. Do you know who the host is?”

“It just says ‘Westbrook Estate on Mercer Island’. I don’t know, I’d have liked to be more informed,” I said, picking up my iPad and going into the kitchen. I took a seat at one of the four stools I had positioned around the laminate kitchen island and scrolled for the number of the spa.

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “There will be plenty of men and women there to meet and you can always leave, but I hope you meet someone—wait, did you say Westbrook?”

“Yup, I did.” I bit into my lip. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Even if someone knew about the party, they wouldn’t just be able to walk in. Besides, I gave you the card.”

“True,” I agreed. “Who do you think the host could be?”

“You said Westbrook on Mercer Island, right? That could only be the architect, Dane Westbrook,” she said. “He was the one you asked about at the restaurant.”

I grinned, remembering how incredibly good-looking he was. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. He and his friends are quite the mystery,” she said. “Honestly, I didn’t even know he hosted parties. Every mixer is custom to profiles. I’ve never been to a party he attended, but Marco says some are exclusive. Could it be something you wrote on your questionnaire?”

“I honestly don’t have a clue,” I said. “But if The Agency has attractive men like him, I’m definitely interested, at least for a night or two.”

“You’re bad.” She laughed with me. “You must tell me what happens.”

“Just like you shared your dates with Marco?” I said as I poured a glass of water from the dispenser in the refrigerator.

She giggled. “Well, I didn’t want to break the spell. He’s been so…sweet to me. God, I’m like a teenager in love here.”

I bit my cheek. I wanted her to be cautious, but it was so good to hear her joy that I didn’t want to ruin it. “Just be careful,” I told her.

“I am,” she said. “But now that I’m alone, I don’t see any reason to not try something new. Now that you’re single, you don’t have to settle. You don’t need to depend on a man for financial security. You have your business, and your parents’ estate too—unless Patrick got alimony?”

I grimaced. “He tried, but his affair with Hannah put a wrench in his alimony plan—although I wouldn’t put it past him to keep his lawyers sniffing around for a way to get more money from me, the slimy bastards.” We bashed him a bit and I smiled when I hung up.

Almost immediately, the phone rang again. This time Patrick’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello, Gia,” he said in a cheery voice.

“What do you want?” I asked. My voice wasn’t fake; it was downright snippy.

“We can be pleasant even if we are divorced,” he said in his most polite tone. “I was wondering if you remembered the contacts in Senator Ellis’s office.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he was calling because he needed to use me for help with his campaign. I was the one who’d handled all the pesky details he never seemed to make time for. Too busy cheating. Call it a moment of holiday mercy, but I ran through a contact list off the top of my head.

“See, I knew you would know,” he said. “You know…now that we’re divorced, I was wondering if you could give Hannah some pointers on fundraising?”

I smirked. Had hell frozen over? Had he completely lost his mind? “We’re not friends anymore, Patrick. I don’t want you calling me. You replaced me, now work with your replacement.”

“We both know it wasn’t that simple,” he said. “You checked out of this marriage, spending all your time on that little project—”

“The little project you and your slimy lawyers are trying to get a hold of,” I said tersely. My little project had turned lucrative over the years, growing well beyond his original investment.

“No, I invested, and it’s communal property from the time we were married. We contracted our agreement. I agreed to change, and you agreed to be helpful,” he said in a sharp tone. That voice had once been used to keep me in line, but now that was totally not going to happen. While my family had money and connections, my father wouldn’t give me a startup loan, wanting me to stay away from business. In the end, we had agreed to use a percentage of Patrick’s salary for the initial funding for Perfetto, and even after replacing his investment, he still found a way to bring it up to get something from me.

“No. I agreed not to do anything that would jeopardize your election.” I drew in a breath. “Such as telling them about how your affair with Hannah came about.”

He coughed. “We both agreed not to discuss Hannah. She is being introduced as my new public relations consultant, not my girlfriend. I may have had relations with Hannah earlier than one would expect, but we were not together until after the separation.”

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