Homewrecker Incorporated (5 page)

Elsa Michaels was resilient. Even though I wasn't comfortable with the idea of meeting and actually working with my mark's wife, I already liked her. She was someone I could easily be friends with under different circumstances.

"We have a saying here, Elsa.
Without love, marriage is just business
," I said. "Like you mentioned, you have other people to consider. There's nothing wrong with protecting what's rightfully yours."

"So you are certain divorce is your goal at this point?" Grace asked cautiously.

"No, I'm not sure. But it will be the goal if he has been cheating on me, or if he would. I know myself; I could never forgive him for that. Now that this seed of doubt has been planted, I need to know the truth. He witnessed firsthand what my father did to my family. I was sixteen the night my dad left to be with his other family. Gregory snuck into my room and held me for hours while I cried myself to sleep. He swore he would never hurt me like that. He's my best friend. We've always shared everything, been true partners, at least I've always thought we were. I need to know if he's still the man who held me that night all those years ago," Elsa said, looking toward me.

The history with her father hit unfortunately close to home.

Her current predicament was exactly why I'd vowed never to let a man get too close. Clearly she was holding out some hope her husband was, in fact, faithful. Wishing despite whatever charms I threw his way, he would resist and prove his loyalty. I guessed there was a first time for everything, but I wasn't holding my breath.

"I have to ask this, Elsa. Are you certain you want to go down this path? Even with all the doubts you're having, it's obvious you're still in love with your husband. There's a very good chance you're not prepared to see where all this leads. Because of your infidelity clause, even if we confirm he's having an affair with this other woman, we'll need to go further than that. You understand what that means?"

"I'm not the kind of woman who can bury her head in the sand and pretend everything is fine when it's not." Elsa sat up straight. "This is what I need right now. I need to know if he's cheating on me and if he is, I want him to pay."

Despite my well-founded belief every man is capable of cheating, a part of me hoped Gregory Michaels would be the exception to the rule.

"Okay, then," I finally said.

She sighed, looking relieved and terrified all at once.

"So what happens now?"

I glanced at each of the other girls. "Now we do whatever it takes to get you some answers."

Chapter 3 

I'd been nervous when I met Elsa Michaels for the first time the week before. Those feelings were nothing compared to the tempest of anxiety swirling through my mind and body as the cab pulled up to G&G Components. No amount of research or preparation could have equipped me for the rapid beat of my heart or the sheen of sweat covering my skin. I was usually calm, completely in control on jobs, but something about this one had me off my game. 

Get it together, Claudia,
I thought when the cab came to a stop. It wasn't my first rodeo, so to speak. There was no reason to get myself so worked up for a meeting with Gregory Michaels' assistant, set up courtesy of Bridget's old real boss, new fake boss, Ben. It was unlikely I would even see Mr. Michaels during the visit. A busy CEO would rarely be found sitting around the office. Although there was at least a chance I might bump into him, so I'd pulled out more than a few of the stops when I got dressed in a sexy gray sheath dress and matching jacket.

Thanks to Elsa, I knew everything from how Gregory Michaels took his coffee in the morning to which nineties ballads he sang in the shower. Perhaps meeting with, or at least talking to, the wives before a job wasn't such a bad thing after all. However, talking to them after would be another story entirely.

I tugged at the hem of my dress. Looking into the rearview mirror at my reflection, I ignored the obvious stare of the driver. He'd been fixated on me for the bulk of the short ride from my building. Glancing at the meter, I passed him a fifty dollar bill.

"Keep the change."

He turned and gave an appreciative nod for the large tip, but with the way his eyes moved up and down my body as I slid closer to the door, he was appreciating a lot more than the money. I pulled in a steadying breath and clutched the portfolio containing my falsified résumé to my chest as I reached for the handle.

"I could wait until you're finished?" the driver said. "My shift ends in a couple of hours," he added hopefully.

Clearly the outfit I'd chosen had the desired effect.

"Thanks, but my boyfriend is picking me up after my meeting. Have a nice afternoon." I smiled, looking in his direction but avoiding eye contact, not wanting to encourage his attentions.

I'd found the mention of a fake boyfriend wasn't usually enough to dissuade most men, and given the boldness of his stare and his repeated attempts at conversation during the ride, it was likely he was one of them.

"What about--"

I closed the door a little harder than I intended to avoid hearing more of what the driver had to say. On another day, I might have politely indulged his attentions, maybe even flirted a bit, but my stress level made his advances a complete annoyance instead of harmless flattery.

The delicious aroma of a nearby Chicago hotdog stand tickled my senses. My stomach rumbled. My nerves told me I wasn't hungry for breakfast that morning. I inhaled deeply as if the scent alone would sustain me. Lunch would have to wait until after the meeting. With a loud growl, my stomach made its disapproval of that decision known.

I made a beeline to an empty bench I spied a few yards from the entrance of the building and sat to gather myself. Punctuality being one of my finer traits, I had twenty-five minutes before I was due up on the executive floor.

My phone buzzed in the bag beside me. It was my sister, Jessica, her third call of the day, all of which I'd ignored. We'd had our regular weekly call a few days before, so I knew what she wanted. The anniversary of Mom's death was approaching, and she was calling to check on me.

We'd stayed somewhat close over the years despite a fundamental difference of opinion about our father, whom I'd refused to see or talk to for nearly fifteen years. Early on, she'd attempted to persuade me to give him a chance to explain his side of things, insisting there was more to what happened between my mom and him than I knew. What I knew was my mother was dead and he'd moved on and married his mistress before she was cold in her grave. Jessica finally stopped pleading for him when I made it clear if she didn't let it go, she would join him in the ranks of estranged family. The threat was empty, I loved my sister, but she heeded it nonetheless.

Trying to steady my nerves, I took in the sleek, modern lines of G&G Components' new headquarters. My knowledge of architecture was limited, having only taken one class on the subject before changing my major. It was hard not to appreciate the beauty and ingenuity of the building. Taking deep breaths and focusing on the small details of its construction and the sounds of the city moving around me lessened my anxiety. I chalked my uncharacteristic nerves up to doing a job at home for the first time.

Ten minutes passed by the time I looked at my phone again. Pretending to take a selfie, I used the camera as a mirror, happy to find my little city sidewalk meditation smoothed the worry lines. I once again looked like my normal, confident self as I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and strode toward the door.

I looked up and all of the composure I'd worked so hard to regain melted away. A few yards behind me, staring at me in the reflective glass, was a man who made my heart stop. My breath hitched and I was paralyzed as my mind raced for the appropriate response to Gregory Michaels' unexpected appearance. Whatever mutiny my body staged against my mind wasn't the response I was hoping for. By some miracle, the door opened in front of me, breaking the spell.

An average-looking man in a nondescript business suit held the door, waiting politely for me to pass through. In a daze, I shuffled in and spun around to find Mr. Michaels standing in the same spot, still looking at me. I knew he couldn't see me through the dark glass, but that didn't lessen the impact of his gaze. He walked toward the door, his expression intent, purposeful. I struggled to take a step back, as if some invisible force pulled me toward him. I'd never felt anything like it before, so I did the only reasonable thing I could think of. 

I ran.

The ladies restroom was just a few yards away so I ducked inside.

What. The. Fuck?
I leaned against the door of the woman's bathroom. That wasn't me out there. Men didn't have that effect on me; I had it on them. I was always in control. Every step I'd taken regarding men for as long as I could remember was part of a well laid out plan. Until that moment.

I pulled the door just enough to peer through the crack. My pulse thudded in my ears. Looking at him, completely uninhibited by the risk of discovery, it was impossible to deny my attraction to him. The flush of my skin and the fluttering in my stomach gave it away all too well.

Gregory Michaels scanned the lobby, looking for something, or someone. Knowing in my bones what he was looking for was me pleased me far more than it should have. Ignoring the temptation to exit and let him find me, I kept watching. He approached the desk manned by two security officers.

"Oh! Excuse me!" the woman entering the bathroom nearly shouted.

I jumped back, my hand over my chest. The surprise flooded me with an extra dose of adrenaline as if my senses weren't already on high alert. Still holding the door open, she studied me for a moment before looking over her shoulder back into the lobby. Turning back to me, she giggled with a knowing expression and stepped through the doorway.

"He has that effect," she said, moving past me as the door closed.

Thank God the door blocked me from view. I smiled at her unashamed. Under different circumstances I would have openly appreciated Gregory Michaels with any nearby woman, or man for that matter, who had the use of their eyes. Blindness was surely the only defense against that kind of appeal.

"Is that Mr. Michaels?" I played dumb. There was no doubt who he was. I'd spent more time than was necessary looking at pictures of him for my
research.
None of that research prepared me for my body's reaction to him

She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, this is your first time seeing him in person. I would tell you it gets easier, but I've worked here for over a year and still get nervous around him."

I could understand why.

I shrugged, smiling at her in the mirror.

"Thanks for the heads-up. I'm interviewing to replace his administrative assistant."

"Lucky you! I thought they were looking to fill that position internally." She extended her hand. "I'm Stacy, accounting department. You better watch out. More than one of your new coworkers will be pissed if you get the job."

It sounded like a joke, but the look in her eyes told me she was serious.

"Claudia,
Claudia Winston
," I replied as we shook hands. The last name from my childhood felt strange on my lips.

I'd decided to use my real first name for the job, considering I was working at home and there was always the possibility of running into someone who knew me. People don't typically shout out last names when they bump into acquaintances on the street, and even if they did, a new last name was much easier to explain away.

Winston was my father's last name. I legally changed my last name to my mother's maiden name after she died. It was another way to cut my father, Robert, out of my life.

Apart from my name, the rest of my identity was entirely fake. Bridget created a false work history, school transcripts, and credit report under a recycled social security number, which I then used to rent a small one-bedroom apartment a few blocks from my real one. Bridget ensured everything was in place for me to pass the intense background check G&G's human resources department would run if I was considered for the position.

"Unfortunately, the yummy Mr. Michaels is only for looking at. He's happily married to a gorgeous saint of a woman," Stacy said before reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.

I contained my sarcastic laugh. Forget that his wife hired me to seduce him and was considering divorce, the way he'd looked at me told me in no uncertain terms his marriage was far from happy. Poor Elsa. Guilt tugged at the corners of my mind. Another odd feeling for me. Clearly meeting my mark's wife had more of an impact than I'd anticipated.