A Fragile Wife: Billionaire Romance (8 page)

“Yes, sir,” Lana finally said. “I’m a bigger whore than this one here.”

“Damn straight you are.” He pulled out and slammed into her again, opening her up, but barely enough. Luckily, Lana was so aroused that she was wet enough to take whatever he gave her now. “This woman may be a professional, but you married me. You know what that means.”

I married you, so I’m the biggest whore of all.
They said they went halfsies, but Ken had the biggest advantage. He paid for so much. He gave his wife countless new opportunities by marrying and going into business with her. He gave her credibility with his last name. No matter how Lana spun it, she would always be Ken’s biggest whore.

She nearly pulled her own hair out of her scalp from how hot the realization made her.

“Now shut up and take what you deserve.”

“Yes, sir.”

She was trapped between his harsh cock and the soft woman in front of her. Grace could only watch in fascination as this dynamic unfolded before her. What was she thinking? That these two were certifiably crazy?
We are. Everyone knows it.
That they were the best time she ever had? That she would be paying for a new designer dress with the bonus they would give her… to keep quiet about how Ken Andrews made his ball-busting wife Lana admit she was his biggest whore?

Who cared?

Lana buried her face in Grace, moaning into the welcoming folds of this professional woman as Ken took her deep and raw from behind. Pulsations spread through Lana’s abdomen. Her husband’s cock swelled in her entrance, threatening to stretch her to limits she normally didn’t push. The mistress writhed beneath her mouth, orgasming from the intensity of the situation.

When Ken came, he slammed Lana’s hips down onto his cock, burying himself so deep that she had no chance to escape his climax and what it was doing to her. Assuming she wanted to – which she did not.

She wanted to feel his hands pin her down. She
wanted
to feel his cock release the first burst of seed inside her, then the next.

“Please give it all to me,” she mumbled into Grace’s pussy. Yet she knew he wouldn’t.

Sure enough, he quickly pulled out, another burst hitting her ass before Ken could practically shove his cock into Grace’s waiting mouth.

He didn’t make it that far. The last of his long orgasm hit the mistress’s breasts, her eyes rolling back in her head as she collapsed onto the bed.

Lana sank to the floor. Crumpled.

“My two girls,” he mused, admiring what he had done to the both of them. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Lana braced herself against the bed, her finger circling her clit as she shuddered in the orgasm she couldn’t have with her husband inside her. He watched her, wordlessly, as she let loose everything inside her all over the mistress’s bedroom floor.
We pay to clean this up.
Might as well get her money’s worth.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite, baby.” Ken knelt next to her, stroking her sweaty forehead and patting her back. “Nobody but you knows how to appreciate what I offer.”

She looked him in the eye. Although worn out, her pussy too sore to deal with anything else right now, Lana still managed to say, “Your favorite, huh? Do I want to know who your lessers are?” Against her wishes she thought of Chloe, the young ass who probably got off on calling herself Ken’s wench too.

At least I’m his favorite.

Ken didn’t answer her. He probably thought she was having post-sex rambles that didn’t always make sense.

They spent the night with Grace, opting to drive back home in the morning. The girl’s bed was big enough for the three of them. Yet even after Lana washed up and curled into her husband’s arms, she couldn’t stop fighting the paranoia creeping up on her. The one that told her she was the best, but she wasn’t the only one who kept her husband’s fancy.

Go away…
That’s what she told these invasive thoughts. She had no evidence. She only had her paranoia and the feelings that made her so toxic that she couldn’t even enjoy the way they made love anymore. Not after the sordid fact.

She held onto her husband and hoped he would find a way to soothe her soon. Before it was too late for their marriage.

Chapter 5

“What Do You Have There?”

For once, Lana was not lying on her office floor, with or without a drink.
Hey, I don’t
always
drink down here.
Sometimes she asked Chloe to bring her tea or coffee.
Most
of the time it was tea or coffee. The alcohol only happened when she started thinking darker thoughts, usually brought on because she didn’t have enough work to do.

That Thursday, however, she didn’t end up on the floor at all. Instead, she had Chloe bring her coffee straight to the desk, where the desktop showed spreadsheets galore.

“Two sugars and a pinch of cream,” Chloe announced, setting the sterling silver serving set on the edge of Lana’s desk. “Also, if it’s okay, I’m going to take my half hour break.”

Lana looked away from her financial spreadsheets and caught sight of a suppressed grin on Chloe’s face. “You finished your other duties for now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The lady of the house gestured to the serving set, and with a flourish the young maid poured more coffee into the cup. “Then it’s fine.”

Chloe excused herself. Lana sighed, sipping her hot coffee and perusing her email. A voice mail from Ken waited on her cell phone. He would be home late again.
I need to postpone dinner until 7:30.
Hopefully Lana would remember to tell Roberta, the live-in chef.

Since she was in a productive mood – it helped that she and Ken were getting ready to remodel a day spa to sell to an expanding company, and thinking about free manipedis and massages
always
got her ass moving – Lana finished work early and decided to take her phone calls outside. Why not? It was an unusually sunny day for that time of year. She needed a light scarf and sweater to brave the chill, but once she was in the sunshine, walking past the pool and into the trails behind the mansion, she couldn’t care about the chill.

Her cousin the lawyer called, asking where her weekly gripe about a divorce was. This was followed by another call from Ken saying their current real estate deal went up two million dollars, and, oh, could his dear wife and business partner come with him to negotiations next time? Finally, she got a call from her sister, coordinating their Christmas dinner at their parents’ house. Ken’s family was coming over... so were the sisters of Lana’s brother-in-law. For the first time in a long while, Lana would be surrounded by children, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

No thank you.

She would have to enjoy the peace now. She would also have to summon her driver one of these days and do some last minute Christmas shopping. Especially for those children.
Sigh.

Toward the end of her stroll, she came upon Chloe, sitting on a bench in the sunlight. This wasn’t unusual, since the girl often took her breaks outside on nicer days, but today she held something in her hand.

That something was a large piece of Kenneth’s personal stationery. Easy to see that soft yellow even in the sunlight.

Chloe giggled at something written on the paper. Before she saw Lana approaching, the maid covered her mouth as a smile erupted on her stricken face. It was a face of adoration. Love.

Lana knew that face well. It made her stop in her steps and feel bile erupt in her throat.
I knew it.
She looked away as Chloe noticed her, furiously fighting to put the paper away in a purse she kept strapped around her chest.

“What do you have there?” Lana asked sweetly, taking her chances.

Chloe ran her fingers nervously through her hair. “Nothing special,” she replied much too quickly. “I mean…”

“Love letter from your boyfriend?”

The fake look of innocence dropped from Chloe’s mien. Instead, she paled, the winter sunshine sucking all color from her face. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she finally said.
Yes, sweetie, I saw whose stationery you were perusing. Naughty girl.

“Too bad. Pretty girl like you should have a boyfriend around Christmas.”

“I’m going home to visit my parents anyway.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Lana took her leave, diverting from the main house to the kitchen wing nestled on the far west side of the property. Roberta was there, prepping ingredients for dinner. Looked like braised chicken and a vegetable medley.

“Ken will be home late,” Lana said, standing in front of the island counter stacked with fresh vegetables. Roberta, a stocky woman with a mean visage but a straightforward heart, sliced and diced as if it were second nature. It probably was, like buying and selling properties flowed in Lana’s blood.
We all have our strengths.
Wasn’t Lana’s fault that hers made her one of the richest women in the region – if not
the
richest. Not even fellow billionaire Kathryn Alison had as much money as Lana’s personal savings account.

Roberta stopped cutting long enough to consider the food in front of her, then Lana’s stoic face. “Gives me longer to cook dessert.”

“What’s for dessert?”

“Peach cobbler. For Mr. Andrews.”

His favorite.
Seemed Ken was a popular guy today. “Can I ask you a question?”

Roberta glanced at Lana as if she had grown a second head.
I know, I’m not very personable.
Although Lana tried to keep emotional distance between her and the help she hired, Roberta was the house’s longest standing employee at seven years. She lived in a sizable apartment above the kitchen where the Andrews let her host guests and even a live-in boyfriend for three out of those seven years – the boyfriend had worked as a lawn keeper for a neighboring property, meaning hardly any commute. These were perks Lana wouldn’t dream of offering her other employees.

So even though Roberta and her were far from
friends,
she was the closest thing Lana had to one in that house outside of her husband. If there was anyone she was going to talk to, it was this sullen woman who often looked like she was about to rip the chicken in half with her bare hands.

“Do you think my husband is cheating on me?”

Lana went ahead and laid that out on the island counter, now didn’t she?

Roberta spared her another glance before dumping a pile of diced carrots into a bowl. “It’s too close to Christmas for a question like that,” she mumbled.

“I’m serious. I think there might be something going on between him and Chloe.”

Roberta shrugged. “What evidence do you have of this?”

Classic Roberta. She had no other reaction than, “Evidence? Where’s your evidence?” This was why Lana liked her. That and she cooked a mean lasagna.

“I have my reasons for thinking this.”

“That means you have no evidence.”

Lana huffed. “I caught the girl reading something on my husband’s stationery. She was being secretive about it. And giggling over it.”

“Okay, but have you seen them together like that? Has either of them said anything?”

“Well, no…”

Roberta shrugged again. “If you’re that worried, fire the girl.”

“That doesn’t solve my problems.” Ken would find someone else to fool around with. Probably in the city where Lana would never find out. “Besides, it’s such a pain in the ass hiring live-in maids around here. I have to take applications, interview them, give them trial runs… Chloe’s only been here a few months. I don’t want to go through that again if I don’t have to.” Obviously, if Chloe were screwing the boss’s husband, then she would have to
go.

“Your problems sound like they’re in your head.”

Lana could have responded in any number of ways. She could have yelled at Roberta. Could have fired her on the spot for saying such a thing. Could have sent a warning shot with her sharp, biting tongue.

Instead, Lana said, “You’re right. They are. Except my instincts have brought me this far in my life, and my instincts say that there’s
something
going on. Something is being kept from me in this house.”

“Well, I know nothing about it, ma’am.” Roberta waved her knife around for emphasis. “But if you do find out that the bastard is cheating on you, know that I can slip any ol’ thing into his chicken soup. Like a shitton of laxatives, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I get your point.” As amusing as it would be to destroy the man’s colon for a day or two, Lana wasn’t sure what that would accomplish. “I appreciate your candor, as always.”

“That’s why you come to me.”

“Indeed.” Lana turned, shoulders square and ponytail pulling tight against her scalp. “Let me know if you notice anything, though.”

Before she could step out of the kitchen, Roberta called out, “There was one thing, ma’am.”

Lana stopped. “Oh? Do tell.”